The Whispering Skull by Jonathan Strou EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Jonathan Stroud
- Language: English
- Genre: Children’s Scary Stories
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 12 MB
- Price: Free
“Don’t look now,” Lockwood said. “There’s two of them.”
I snatched a glance behind me and saw that he was right. Not far
off, on the other side of the glade, a second ghost had risen from the earth.
Like the first, it was a pale, man-shaped curtain of mist that hovered above
the dark, wet grass. Its head, too, seemed oddly skewed, as if broken at the
neck.
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I glared at it, not so much terrified as annoyed. For twelve months I’d
been working for Lockwood & Co. as a Junior Field Operative, tackling
spectral Visitors of every horrific shape and size. Broken necks didn’t bother
me the way they used to. “Oh, that’s brilliant,” I said. “Where did he spring
from?”
There was a rasp of Velcro as Lockwood pulled his rapier clear of his
belt. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll keep an eye on him. You keep watching yours.”
I turned back to my position. The original apparition still floated about
ten feet from the edge of the iron chain. It had been with us for almost five
minutes now, and was growing in clarity all the time. I could see the bones on
the arms and legs, and the connecting knots of gristle. The wispy edges of the
shape had solidified into flecks of rotted clothing: a loose white shirt, dark
tattered breeches ending at the knee.
Waves of cold radiated from the ghost. Despite the warm summer night,
the dew below the dangling toe bones had frozen into glittering shards of
frost.
“Makes sense,” Lockwood called over his shoulder. “If you’re going to
hang one criminal and bury him near a crossroads, you might as well hang
two. We should have anticipated this.”
“Well, how come we didn’t, then?” I said.
“Better ask George that one.”
My fingers were slippery with sweat. I adjusted the sword grip in my
hand. “George?”
“What?”
“How come we didn’t know there’d be two of them?”
I heard the wet crunch of a spade slicing into mud. A shovelful of soil
spattered against my boots. From the depths of the earth a voice spoke
grumpily. “I can only follow the historical records, Lucy. They show that one
man was executed and buried here. Who this other fellow is, I haven’t a clue.
Who else wants to dig?”
“Not me,” Lockwood said. “You’re good at it, George. It suits you.
How’s the excavation going?”
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