Lady in white: Part I
It was Christmas Eve and we were gathered, at what we jokingly called our "gentlemen's club". You see, each year we gather here and tell stories of our adventures, whether they be supernatural, humorous, or any other tale of the sort. All that was required was that we experienced them.
I sat in my regular chair, as did the others. There was Stephens, who owned half of London at the time, Walters who did some sort of business overseas, and and Jeffries who was an esteemed novelist, but whom oddly enough wasn't a very gifted story teller. There was one more member of our strange little group. His name was O'Rylee, he was the founder of our club and easily the most mysterious member. Little was known about how he made a living, just that he had amassed a large fortune from traveling abroad.
I sat and wondered who would be the teller of the story this year. All of us having gone our turns in the previous years, except O'Rylee who never told a story or stayed to discuss the stories told in the club, not even Jeffrie's story about the man who would not shake hands. So you can imagine my surprise when he threw some kindling into the fireplace, leaned forward, and began his tale of the lady in white.
"The story I'm about to tell you takes place in a small, remote part of Africa". He stated in a low gravelly voice to a now hushed room. He continued, "I had a fever of over a hundred degrees and hallucinations of dark, horned, demons danced across my vision. I was in a rather rough state, for you see I had been struck with malaria the day before. The occupants of the village I was in did not expect me to live through the night. I, myself, did not believe I had even that long. I still, to this day, do not believe I would have survived, had it not been for my lady in white". Goosebumps ran up and down the length of my arms, As I sat enthralled by his story. As the cigar smoke drifted lazily around the parlor, he continued, "She came to me that night, while I sat drenched in my own sweat and urine and prayed for death... [continued]
submitted at 9:27pm
1 March 2009