Starkie’s Place by Boz

I awoke in the early hours with a chilling feeling of guilt; as if I had that night  committed some horrendous crime for which I would be pursued for the rest of my life. My body was cold and damp, and I shivered despite the warm summer night. My nightclothes were wet; as if drenched with dew after a night sleeping in the open air.

The priest’s housekeeper, a woman, well past middle age, was five doors along from my room. In the night I had heard her sobbing so loudly I could not understand how she did not awaken the whole house.

Then I remembered that, apart from the housekeeper, I was alone on this landing, having arrived late and uninvited.

The floorboards were cold, tacky and gritty on my bare feet. I pulled my mackintosh over my pajamas and walked out into the corridor. I shivered and my teeth rattled.

The old lady was sat up in bed. Her hair dishevelled; the previous evening it had been neatly and sternly held in a bun. Her face was broken in misery and despair.

Fragments by Boz


One thought on “Starkie’s Place by Boz

  1. I’m going to add ‘autobiography’ to the categories because this did happen to me.

    I have revamped the story in an attempt to use it as the opening to a Gothic novel that I want to write.

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