In The Key
In the formal garden of Winton Manor north of London, a spirit assumed the shape of a woman in a long gray dress, as she had for nearly a year. Because her time was running out, each materialization had become harder and harder, but to stop meant failure.
Everyone in the huge mansion had ignored her. She'd left clues for them to find that had sapped nearly all her strength, and they had tossed them away or missed them altogether. When that didn't work she'd tried to lead them, but they wouldnÕt follow.
She wept for all that would be lost if she didn't succeed. If she left this realm without accomplishing her mission, she would walk in the darkness alone, never forgiving herself.
She had to succeed.
She would succeed, she vowed again. Somehow. There had to be someone receptive enough to understand what she wanted. That was the key. She just had to find someone willing to suspend disbelief in spirits and follow her lead.
Her filmy gray dress appeared to evaporate and spiral around her like a fog during her transformation to save her strength. The swirls of gray disappeared and the garden bench appeared unoccupied once more.
Only the cool temperature of the area in contrast to the warm summer day gave witness to her presence waiting and watching.
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