AND I am sixteen and before I remember, my family always insisted on weekend trips with friends to the country or to the coast. So when October holidays came (two years ago), we were at the house of Woodhouse on Adelaide hills. I love senior buildings since I was petite, but after reaching this particular house I could not refrain from a sense of injury and nervousness when I entered the entrance door. Homestead was a two -story building with numerous pounds in the dormitory at the top, enormous kitchen and attached an attachment. It was shadowy before the first of our friends came and apparently I jumped in every shade that moved. Fortunately, soon the house was full of adults at the bottom and laughter of the children when they raced down the stairs.
My friend Mel and I founded the room of her family (number 4) upstairs, while all the children were now downstairs, delighted with stories about the ghosts told around the fireplace of the living room. I went upstairs with armed bags to the room, and Mel was left down, trying to convince her mother that she should have brought her dryer. When I got to the top of the stairs, I found the air cool and immediately stopped to put on a sweater that was around my waist, thinking that someone left the window open. I picked up the bags again and continued around the corner to face Mela's open door. There, near the window, I saw a woman. She wasn't white, but she looked sickly pale and I called her, for what reason I don't know. She turned to me once and then went out the window. The window has been closed. I was so terrified that I dropped the bags in the corridor and ran downstairs, unable to verbalize anyone what I saw.
The next morning, after a restless night, in which I am sure that I heard her crying and crying, I was the first awakening at home. Dressing, I found myself at the front hall and opened the book of guests on the table just in the front door. In it I found a description of the murder suicide conducted at the end of the 19th century. The man who was the owner of the house was pushed out of the eastern window by his jealous novel wife. It seemed that the man spent time in the city with his lover. The teenage wife threw out the window behind her beloved when she realized the full range of her actions.
