Canterville Ghost

• Arvind Kumaraguru, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2015

With wrath burning and scorching inside me I tautly clenched my fists not feeling an ounce of agony nor pain. Those rotten dirt-bags just couldn't get away with it with ease and I was determined to primarily witness them suffer. I could evidently feel the heat beside my forehead and the amplified noise of my heart was pounding vigorously against my chest. Soaring through the air with my tattered, sweeping robe whipping against the ominous breeze, my full attention was focused with deep anticipation.
Laughing hysterically like hyenas, the ill-mannered imposters were munching on detectable delicacies for breakfast. Mr Otis was neatly dressed in his smart coat and tie with his prized project next to him for his presentation for work that day. Wiping away his excess food covered over his mouth, he stood up and gave a wave of amicable farewell to his beloved family. Now was my time to strike.
I grasped at his project whilst he was smothering kisses over the children and made a dash out of the corridor. Stumbling over many obstacles on the way, I didn't dare stop and endeavoured to keep at a steady pace. I devised to completely destroy his project so he would be in eternal distress from the loss of his job and then I would be smiling with glee ear to ear. However, once Mr Otis discovered his project missing everything changed.
He searched every nook and cranny when eventually he found what I dreaded most. He crouched down the carpet and with nimble fingers, stroked his index finger against the grime that sprawled on the floor and raised it to his nostril, sniffing intensely.
The pathetic ghost trying to get his revenge!