Pale Clara

He ran down the hall, Kate following close behind, both laughing, trying to avoid spilling their champagne. It was early morning new year's day 1909.

“Wait for me chuffy!” Kate shouted down the corridor.

Charles pulled up short of the staircase to the attic.

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me Chuffy old girl, it really makes one sound like one of those idle club buffoons.” He retorted before taking a swig from his glass.

“I hate to say it Chuffy, but you are one of those idle buffoons and less of the old please, I’m 17.” She took a gulp of Champagne. “This is a lark isn’t it!”

Charles had turned and was staring, through one squiffy eye, at the hatch at the top of the attic stairs.

“Can you hear that?”

Kate looked up at the attic hatch.

“Hear what?”

“There’s something moving the hatch I swear.”

They stood and watched the hatch together. They had almost become bored, when a voice behind them caused them to jump.

“I wouldn’t go up there if I were you sir. Pale Clara is up there.” Said Smythes the butler. “She don’t take kindly to visitors, never has and never will.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s