The Ghost of Richard III Visits William Shakespeare

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The Ghost of Richard III Visits William Shakespeare

I was sitting at my desk in my candle-lit room, a gentle breeze made

the candle flicker and a chill ran down my spine. I remember having a

strange feeling, as if there was another spirit present, it is hard to

explain, but it was nothing like I had ever felt before. The breeze

was making me shiver and it was getting colder as time passed, I

picked up my lantern and walked across to the window and pulled it to,

but still left it slightly ajar, I liked the feel of the air, but

today it did not feel the same.

I walked back to my desk and placed my lantern down again. My room was

becoming duller as the seconds ticked by.

It was eight in the evening, I thought I would have written something

by now. I picked up my quill and sat and thought, and thought, and

thought. Nothing! My mind was somewhere else, but I did not know

where. I moved across the room to look out of the window at the stars.

Distant in the darkening sky.

I sat and watched by my attention was distracted by a light banging

sound, although quiet it startled me. I looked over and my small pot

of ink had been tipped over, spilled across my paper. I walked over to

my desk and picked up the pot with what was left of the ink. Of the

little work I had done, it was ruined, impaired, and un-readable! I

screwed the paper into a tiny ball and threw it onto a pile along with

several others.

I figured I would not get much work done any time soon so I put away

my quill and what was left of the ink, I picked up my lantern and

walked across to the door. I became aware that my door was slightly

ajar. I closed it and walked back. I was startled, were my eyes

playing tricks on me? I doubt it. There standing by my desk was

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