“He heard the stories, of course, and sometimes lay awake attributing the chorus of night-sounds below his window to the wanderings of the dead, but always in the morning he would feel silly. The dead stayed dead, he knew. His mother had told him so and she had no reason to lie. The topic was occasionally broached in their house, but seldom discussed in-depth because for Peregrine, thinking about ghosts forced him to think of death, and that was infinitely more terrifying than anything that he m...ight hear rustling around in the dark. So far as he knew, there was no proof that ghosts existed anywhere outside the realm of the campfire, but the reality of death could not be denied. It was a shadow the sun would never chase away, and the awesome inevitability of it terrified the boy to the core of his being. Despite his convictions, however, he awoke one gloomy overcast morning to find a ghost sitting in the kitchen. At least he assumed she was a ghost, for she would not look at him, but continued to stare at a point somewhere east of the window overlooking the woods.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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