The cleaning lady hurried along the passageway head down concentrating on her job but keeping an eye on the archway.
As benign as it looked with it opening out onto the beautiful gardens below she always sensed a malignant presence, a shadow that hung over the archway.
She thought it would only be a few minutes before she passed the archway and headed off down the adjoining hallway where the armour belonging to the Jolly Knight stood.
It was true the castle was a place of history both favourable and not. Many families had lived there over the centuries, and it had its fair share of ghosts and tales of woe.
As she came to the archway itself, she felt once again the dread of being there. It was like there were hands reaching out to her; the draught through the opening was icy cold even though it was a warm day out.
The shivers down her spine multiplied, the sweat on her brow intensified as she pulled her cardigan tightly around her now trembling body.
There was one last thing she dreaded at this point, and she steeled herself against the horror of it.
A small voice whispering in her ear: “Help me?”