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THE HALFPACE I live in our ancient house, an ant

THE HALFPACE I live in our ancient house, an antiquated one, full of mysteries. THE HALFPACE I live in our ancient house, an antiquated one, full of mysteries. In one of my lonely adventures, I discovered one photograph of my great-great grandfather, who built this mansion, only to stand at the top of a small hill, high cliffs on either side, but with an outstanding nature view. And some years back, I ran into a room, which was probably occupied by an elderly couple for rent, which I contemplate judging from the picture that hung on one of the walls. But the last thing I would ever imagine to find was a totally hidden alley at the backside of an obsolete door, marked as Mr. Ghost by my younger self. Not that I believed this was a room for a person called Ghost, and, to add, not a person in true sense of word, but I was told by one of my cousins to never peep inside through the hole of the door, since it had been kept locked for about a thousand revolutions of earth and in no way other I could see what it hid from us inquisitive minds, nevertheless, the children of our family were constantly terrorised to satisfy ourselves with a sidelong glance at it, keeping an appreciable distance. And today, finding myself alone at home and feeling my spirit of adventure return, I couldn't resist the temptation to break open the door, and it was a bad idea. As soon as I broke the lock, the sight that greeted me was eerily breathtaking, and you would say the same if describe it to you. In front of me stood a short pathway, that finished itself at the commence of a magnificent staircase, which means I had been lied by my grandmother who used to say that "honey, we have no stairs in our house", whenever I told her I heard someone hoping on a wooden stair plate.
THE HALFPACE I live in our ancient house, an antiquated one, full of mysteries. THE HALFPACE I live in our ancient house, an antiquated one, full of mysteries. In one of my lonely adventures, I discovered one photograph of my great-great grandfather, who built this mansion, only to stand at the top of a small hill, high cliffs on either side, but with an outstanding nature view. And some years back, I ran into a room, which was probably occupied by an elderly couple for rent, which I contemplate judging from the picture that hung on one of the walls. But the last thing I would ever imagine to find was a totally hidden alley at the backside of an obsolete door, marked as Mr. Ghost by my younger self. Not that I believed this was a room for a person called Ghost, and, to add, not a person in true sense of word, but I was told by one of my cousins to never peep inside through the hole of the door, since it had been kept locked for about a thousand revolutions of earth and in no way other I could see what it hid from us inquisitive minds, nevertheless, the children of our family were constantly terrorised to satisfy ourselves with a sidelong glance at it, keeping an appreciable distance. And today, finding myself alone at home and feeling my spirit of adventure return, I couldn't resist the temptation to break open the door, and it was a bad idea. As soon as I broke the lock, the sight that greeted me was eerily breathtaking, and you would say the same if describe it to you. In front of me stood a short pathway, that finished itself at the commence of a magnificent staircase, which means I had been lied by my grandmother who used to say that "honey, we have no stairs in our house", whenever I told her I heard someone hoping on a wooden stair plate.
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Ankita R. Devi

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