The room was cloaked in darkness. The only illumination was from a few ivory moonbeams that sifted through the boarded-up windows of the old house. This room was once grand, but was now decaying. Cobwebs as thin as lace hung everywhere, in corners and from the rafters. Rich furnishings were arranged as if forlornly waiting for their owner to return. An old grandfather clock, fallen into disrepair, stood like some eternally vigilant guardian, lording over the entire chamber. The walls were covered with yellowed and torn wallpaper. Rotten, moth-eaten curtains of faded rose hung over boarded-up, broken windows. Through the inch-thick dust on the floor, a muted pattern of emerald was still evident in the soft brown velvet carpet.

     A portrait, veiled in cobwebs, hung crookedly over the mantel. I cleared them away to see the portrait of a sad young woman. The richness of her teal ball gown poignantly contrasted with the sad, yearning emptiness of her gray eyes. The artist had rendered her in soft pastels, hinting at her melancholy essence.

     The dingy cream lace of the bed canopy stirred weakly in a sudden icy draft. At the far end of the mansion, a soft, whispering moan like the wind echoed. The hem of a ball gown dragged across the musty floorboards. The eerie sound grew closer and closer. Soon the sound stopped right outside the bedroom door.

     The door creaked and opened slowly. My heart began to beat so hard it became audible. When the door finally opened, there was a silent figure standing there. The figure floated closer. It came within view. It was the same young woman in the portrait! The apparition of the woman then reached out to me. Terror made a statue of me. The phantom drifted closer, moaning softly as if it wanted something. Its eyes were empty, black wells, reflecting a desperate emptiness more so than in the portrait. She reached out to touch me, and her hand went through me like mist. A river of tears streamed down the translucent spectre’s face. I felt both pity for and fear of the ghost. At that point, a rooster crowed, signaling the dawn, and the spirit vanished into a silver shimmer on the floor.