Haunted Read Online Free

household shrines, made offerings to
the higher gods and lesser gods and celebrated every saints' day.
He'd never told a lie; he'd never stolen; he'd honoured his father
and mother and showed respect to his elders.
    But after the day they'd all died in the carriage he'd never seen his
parents again. He supposed they'd gone on to Paradise but he was in
the Abyss. Nothing else could explain the pain he was in and the
constant hunger. He didn't know you could feel hungry after you'd
died, but he supposed being hungry with nothing to eat was as good an
everlasting torment as any. There had been no fiery pits and the
demon had been a very fat man with a moustache and no horns or tail
that he could see.
    Sometimes the demon whipped the ghost when the ghost got so scared
that he cried out in his sleep. He hadn't known ghosts needed to
sleep and to eat before he'd become one. His wrists and his neck were
collared and cuffed, the pain from the iron a torment in itself. His
afterlife seemed one of constant pain and distress and he wondered
what sin he'd commited in life to lan himself here.
    The ghost could see other people sometimes, but they never seemed to
see him.
    The ghost was very lonely locked up in the tower. Every day the demon
tied him up to one of the wooden supports, the iron almost buring his
skin, but somehow every night the ghost was able to get free and
sneak around the house that was in the Abyss. It seemed like his old
house, but the ghost saw things and knew that it was an evil house
now, for how could it not be with the fat demon in charge? He ate
leftovers from the kitchen whenever he found any, for the demon never
fed him.
    Then the strangers came and he thought they would be able to help
him, for they didn't seem to be in league with the demon. But every
time he approached them, they got scared and ran away. The ghost
didn't mean to scare people, he just wanted them to help him.
    And now he'd gone and done it again! The new stranger had lasted
longer than he others, but now he had passed out from fright and the
ghost would never learn to read, never know what all those strange
markings on the pages meant. He sensed that if he could read, he
would somehow be able to escape the demon and his own personal hell.
    The ghost had never tried touching anyone before; he knew he could
eat food and the demon could touch him, but would he be able to touch
normal people? Alive people?
    His hand trembled as he reached out towards the man on the bed. The
stranger's face was so pale. If the ghost didn't know better, he
would think the stranger was the ghost and not he, for how could
anyone alive be so pale? The ghost traced his index finger along the
stranger's pale cheek. The man moaned and his eyelids fluttered as he
struggled to open them. As soon as they did, the man reached out and
grabbed his wrist.
    The ghost struggled, but he couldn't get free. He opened his mouth to
scream, but another hand was clamped over it and he smelled ink and
parchment on the man's fingers.
    "Ssh, don't scream. Don't be scared, I won't harm you."
    The ghost's eyes widened in surprise. The man was scared of
frightening him ? He nodded though, to show that he wouldn't
scream. His mouth was released, as was his wrist.
    "You're not a ghost," said the man in wonder. "You're
real."
    "No. I am a ghost," he said. "I'm in the Abyss and I
have to be able to read before I can get to Paradise and see my
parents again."
    "Do ghosts have names?" asked the man, sitting up and
resting against his pillows. The ghost vaguely remembered pillows and
beds, when his mother or father would tuck him in and read him
bedtime stories. But he'd never learned to read them himself and he'd
never had pillows or beds since he'd been here.
    "I don't remember my name. What's yours?"
    "Kestan."
    "K- K - Kestan," his tongue struggled with the word. "It's
a nice name. What did you do?"
    "Pardon?"
    "Why are you in the Abyss as well?"
    "I'm not in the Abyss, although that might be