Ghost Story - preview (Patreon)

As the heavy rain poured down from a moonless night sky, a horse-drawn carriage came to a stop at the bottom of a large hill. At the top of the hill stood a lavish estate, its owners clearly of higher class than the poor residents of the rural village the carriage had just passed through on the way to its destination. As if to eliminate any doubt of this divide, an iron fence circled the property, with a large gate where the barrier met the road.

Were it not for the wealth of these owners, the carriage’s sole occupant doubted he would have ever come to the area, much to his chagrin. It seemed to him that the type of problem which he was trained to solve was only ever given its due seriousness when the rich were afflicted. Alas, the passenger understood how fortunate it was that he was summoned at all. Humanity had entered an age of science, which meant that even when lives were on the line people were reluctant to admit that they heard something go bump in the night.

With these thoughts in mind, the traveler stepped out of the carriage into the constant downpour assaulting the region. The driver handed the young lad his luggage, before turning the carriage around and heading back on the road. Within seconds the vehicle was no longer visible to the traveler, hidden now by the rain and the night. Not wanting to spend any more time in such foul weather than absolutely necessary, the dark-haired gentleman opened up the gates with the key the property owners had sent ahead of time, and quickly made his way towards the mansion.

It takes one knock for the door to be opened by a modestly dressed maidservant. The young woman smiled at the soaked visitor. “You must be the specialist. We’ve prepared a room for you, but please wait here while I inform the mistress and master, and find a towel for you to dry yourself off.” The young man nodded and as the maid walked away, began muttering to himself. “Specialist. Bah. Are people really too embarrassed to say it out loud?”

“A-are you the ghost hunter?” A timid voice rang out from the next room, immediately proving the disgruntled gentleman wrong. He looked to see a young woman staring at him, most of her body obscured by the door frame she was hiding behind. She must have been no older than nineteen, and from her age and frightened behavior the soaked traveler was able to assume her identity. “You’re the mayor’s daughter, aren’t you? The one who was attacked by the specter.”