Stone Cottage

Standing in a tiny stone cottage on the very same spot a stillborn had lain some hundreds of years earlier, Eve’s heart was racing, for in her mind’s eye she could see the mother weeping with painful clarity. It was a pitiful image.

On leaving, Eve brushed past the arched door where there were dents in the splintering wood: these markings were from where a witch had whacked her knuckled stick, trying to force her way into the cottage to souvenir the child just born.

It was all too real these ghosts she felt.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- AZLANDER Series