105: Ghosts in the Night

He passes the ghostlike shirt in the night. It is white, almost see-through, yet strangely solid. Behind it the manor looms, paint flaking off the window frames and doors nailed shut. Weeds grow in the cracks of the stairs. The flower beds are gone. Alone on the washing line, the shirt looks like a white flag on a forgotten battlefield. He greets it like an old friend, then nudges his horse into a quick trot. Themselves ghostlike, they disappear into the fields behind the manor.

Written by: Katrine H. (@katrinehjulstad)