I lived in this house since two months with the dust, my spiders, my kind snake, my large piano and my mirror on top of my desk where the computer was.

I wrote my novel and I had no time to clean my home.

At the beginning, I heard the insects to fly and the complete silence.

I had taken some books for my pleasure and for the story of my novel.

It was the first time where I spent holidays here for the summer.

In fact, it was not my real house. A friend had offered me this place to write.

However, in reality, I lived in London and not in this dirty home of the west of England where this place was in the hills, the mountains and the countryside.

One night, I felt someone looked at me while I slept and I made a bad nightmare. I woke up and I saw my died husband. That night, I did no longer arrive to sleep. I decided to go on my novel in spite of the ghosts.

While I wrote, I felt a perfume, I saw automatically the mirror and he was there… I wrote again, I saw again in my mirror, the ghost had disappeared.

I am looking for my snake somewhere when I saw it the cut head, I felt my blood inside of me to boil. My heart and my brain were in the storm. It was very dreadful: the ghost came to kill my snake and its poor corpse moved again.

I entered in the kitchen, I took a medecine, not far from of me, a large window was opened.

Suddenly I heard a dreadful noise behind me like wings in the air, I said: “it is not a creature. It is impossible”. But the sound of wings just was not far from me.

I ran like I could towards the large windows with my novel, I felt on the ground and while I cryied, the tired heart, I saw the huge creature entered in another room.

I ran like a crazy woman through the countryside and finally a car stopped me. I searched to know if it was a human. The gentleman helped me and saved me.

written by Sophie Pous/ Victoria Lacoste