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Paranormal Tea

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The car rattled up and down the hilly roads of Darjeeling until it finally came to a halt. In front of us, there stood a rusted iron gate and over it hovered a board which said, “Welcome to Lolaleena Tea Estate” Red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and I wondered whether the old gardener was alive or whether there was ant gardener at all. Exhilaration bubbled up inside me like soda water as we passed through the gates. I had promised I would return. We passed the tea bushes and the Nepalese girls waved enthusiastically as they plucked the tea leaves.

We drove past the factory and finally arrived at the house my grandmother had so tastefully designed when she owned Lolaleena. The house’s walls showed black decay of neglect. Splotches of original paint hinted the house’s former prosperity and I was saddened to see it abandoned in the middle of an unkempt garden. I gripped the key the former owner, Mr. Bandarl had sent me and took a deep breath as I turned the lock. The door begrudgingly creaked open and a musty, dank odour crept into my nose. The house was fit for kings and queens of the supernatural.

The only sound t be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet. I heard the roar of the engine but by the time I reached the front porch, the car and driver that had dropped me were gone. The whispering wing drifted around the garden, I went back into the house and called out, “Hello, is anybody at home? ” I heard a click of footsteps on the wooden floor and right in front of me stood a plump Nepalese woman, “Good morning, I am sorry I was outside with the gardener.

Wold you like anything to eat or drink? ” “No, thank you. I lied and she went outside to get my bags while I wandered around the house recalling how it looked when I last saw it. In the evening, I had an early dinner and went to bed by 7, as Kamlana was going to take me for a tour of the estate the next day. After an hour of twisting and turning in bed, the faint smell of smoke awoke me. On looking outside my bed room window, I saw the factory lights were switched on and there was smoke coming out of its massive chimney. I knew the factory always closed at five, so I wore my trainers and set out to cogitate the problem.

On reaching the factory, dark shadows lurked in the still air, along with a faint smell of death hanging in the chilling darkness of the night. Whispers of long dead children echoed with the sound of footsteps that were coming from nowhere. I gasped when I saw thin misty figures, that resembled human beings working in the factory, they were dressed in dazzling white robes with embroidery. “Who are you? ” I questioned, now I had the attention of what seemed to be a hundred ghost workers.

A chill ran down my spine and they gave me a cold stare, which could start the beginning of a new Ice Age. A piercing scream, assailed the night, a terrified sound of dread and despair. I realised somewhere within my confused mind, that this unholy scream was indeed mine. “Help me, somebody! ” I blabbered. I tried to stand, the pain was excruciating. I fell again as an icy numbness spread throughout my body. I had been stalked by unknown friend that hovered around me. They were waiting………. for what, I did not know.

In one last, desperate attempt to protect myself, I grabbed a handful of dry tea leaves and launched it towards them. The tea leaves went straight through their bodies but won me enough time to run back to the house. The run felt long and surreal, and the winding path seemed to be taking the house further away from me. The moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. The melancholy mist crept around the garden and concealed the house. Running and stumbling across the neglected garden, frantic with fright, I repeatedly looked behind me.

Although my senses told me that something was amiss, I could see or hear nothing in this murky, dark evening except the singing of crickets. I pondered on whether I should go back into the house but decided it would be in my best interest to do so, instead of staying in the open, vulnerable to the mysterious night. On entering the house I heard the laughter and chattering of voices, I heard the tinny sounds of cutlery being used, I could smell the tea brewing in the kettle, and then I hear the rolling of the dessert trolley on the wooden floor.

My repeated calls of “Who’s there? ” went unanswered and my sense of fear escalated as the sky darkened, welcoming the approaching night. My stomach flipped as I pushed the living room door open and fear took hold of me as I realised I had just invaded a ghost Tea Party. All the guests present looked at me with raised eyebrows but the host of the party, who was seated in his favourite armchair smiled and said, “Come, Little One. Why don’t you join us? ” “Grandpa? ” I uttered in disbelief.

Mother had always told me stories about him but to sit down next to him and have a cup of tea with him was a totally different experience altogether. He poured me a cup of rich red tea; I took in the strange aroma and appreciated the uniqueness of this very special tea. The clock struck twelve and all the ghost guests disappeared into thin air, I held on to my granddad’s hand, afraid he would disappear forever. My grandfather became very serious all of a sudden and said, “Little One, you must always listen to your heart and do not ignore that little voice that speaks to you.

Hear it, it is saying: I am fear, I am the menace that lurks in the path of life, never visible to the eye but sharply felt by the heart. ” I nodded in disbelief because I knew exactly what he meant. Suddenly, there was a bust of bright light and I closed my eyes. I opened it again, only to be lying on my bed, back in London. It was only a dream, I sighed. I got ready feeling much lighter and more confident for my surgery that morning. I didn’t know how the surgery was going to go and I did not care because I knew that the moment I got back home, I was going to toast myself a cup of tea.

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