Deep in the forest was a house. An old building. It had been built hundreds of years ago. The color peeled off and so some of the windows were cracked. The house was old, but special. Why? The young huntsman Jonas was to find out on a cold winter evening.
Jonas was in the forest hunting. But he had forgotten the time. And it was already late. It was getting dark. And for Jonas it was a long way home. But then he saw the old house. He thought to himself, “Hey, I can sleep, I have my sleeping bag.”
And he did. He knocks at the front door, which was open. He called “Hello”, but no one answered. The house seemed uninhabited. So he entered. He spread his sleeping bag and lit a candle. He then cooked a soup and ate it greedily. He was tired of long hunting. Shortly after, he lay down in his sleeping bag, blew out the candle and closed his eyes.
Hunter Jonas was just falling asleep, then he heard a crack. Was there something? He opened his eyes. An animal? Probably. He closed his eyes again. Shortly after, he felt something. Was that a draft? Could not be, the door was closed. So he closed his eyes again. Then suddenly he heard a sound. Jonas stood up. What was that? Was there a sound from the kitchen cabinet? It sounded like a cup that wobbled in the closet. But how could that be? Slowly he went to the closet.
He looked at the door. It was locked. No one was there except him. Cautiously, he opened the door. He saw nothing. So he lit a candle with a match. Carefully he held it toward the kitchen cabinet. “Hello,” said a soft, friendly voice from the closet. Jonas was startled and dropped the candle. It was getting dark. Afraid, he ran away from the closet.
“W-w-who’s there,” Jonas said. But it was dark. “I am,” said the voice kindly. “Who is I?” Jonas wanted to know. “Marlo is my name,” said the voice from the darkness. “Do not worry, I will not do anything to you. What is your name?” “J-J-Jonas,” said the huntsman in a trembling voice. “Hello Jonas,” Marlo replied. “Can you show yourself,” Jonas asked, “that makes me afraid I can hear you but cannot see you.”
“Yes of course,” Marlo said pleasantly. And at that moment a greenish glimmer of light penetrated the room. It was getting brighter. And there Marlo was: He hovered in the air, just at the level of a person’s head. He was as tall as a bed pillow, and indeed he also had the shape of a bed sheet. It was a ghost. Small, but a ghost.
Jonas looked disbelievingly at Marlo. This showed his friendly blue eyes and smiled gently. “Do you see me better, Jonas?” He asked. “Yes,” said Jonas. “You are a spirit” said the latter. “I prefer the term ‘ghost’,” Marlo replied. “That sounds more friendly, but yes, I’m a ghost.” “You live in this house?” Jonas asked. “Yes,” says Marlo, “I’ve been living here for over 300 years and I’ve heard and seen a lot during this time: robbers, pirates, bandits, they were all here in my house All driven away with my ghosts, who were all terribly frightened when they ran out of the house screaming, “Marlo giggled.
“And are you scaring me out of the house now?” Jonas asked. “Are you nice?” Marlo asked. “Yeah, well, I just want to sleep here, it’s dark and cold outside.” “Then you can stay,” said Marlo in a friendly voice. And so it came about that Marlo and Jonas talked all night, told stories and played games with each other. They forgot about time, and soon the first sunrays of the morning fell into the house. “Oh, I have to hide in the attic now,” Marlo shouted. “A ghost can only live in the dark. Jonas, will you visit me again soon? ” “Yes, Marlo, I will,” said Jonas. And he smiled at Marlo. And the little ghost smiled back. In this moment, a hunter and a little ghost had become very good friends.
To be continued…
16.12.2016. I wrote this story for my two kids as a bedtime story. Maybe some other small fantasy & fiction fans find interest in these tales. 🙂