“Hey kids, grab a handful of sweets, and I’ll tell you the story of how this house is haunted, okay?”The five looked at me with various levels o... scorn and cynicism.“Your house ain’t haunted!” averred one bright little chap, who seemed to perfectly fit the profile of a youngster in training to live at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. His hair, shorn down next to his skull and seemingly right onto it in several places, made him look like a baby monkey. His face seemed set on proving it.“Indeed it is,” I. "Water," sounded in his parched throat, but he was not sure whether or not he said the word aloud. The farm was very quiet, even the chickens seemed to be resting from the heat. His head ached. He could not see anything clearly. He tried to remember how he got to this place, in this stall, on this farm.He wondered what day it was. His mouth tasted awful, vile and sour, and his thirst pushed all else from his pained head. He tried to spit and failed. He levered himself to his knees and attempted. More

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