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The Whispering Gallery — Dan Ross
She entered the secret room and the scent of jasmine was everywhere. The perfume could belong only to one person, Patricia. But Patricia was dead. Barbara moved inside and the door suddenly slammed behind her. The flickering flame of the candle she carried faded and died. Fear gripped her. Heart pounding, she sensed she was not alone. Almost unable to breathe, she managed a cry of unbelievable horror: "Patricia, is that you?"
EVIL EMBRACE
When Barbara returned to Duncan Hall, it was no longer the majestic mansion she remembered. And the days she had spent there with her closet friends seemed now but a distant dream. For Patricia Duncan, her childhood friend, had perished in the flames of a savage fire, and the house, once so warm and inviting, was shrouded in a mist of pain.
Barbara sensed a demonic presence that lurked in the dark of Duncan Hall. A phantom arose by night, a tall, pale figure that moved in the shadows and whispered her name. It was the body of a woman, risen from the grave, and driven by a curse of vengeance. If Barbara yielded to its evil embrace, the house would become her tomb.
EVIL EMBRACE
When Barbara returned to Duncan Hall, it was no longer the majestic mansion she remembered. And the days she had spent there with her closet friends seemed now but a distant dream. For Patricia Duncan, her childhood friend, had perished in the flames of a savage fire, and the house, once so warm and inviting, was shrouded in a mist of pain.
Barbara sensed a demonic presence that lurked in the dark of Duncan Hall. A phantom arose by night, a tall, pale figure that moved in the shadows and whispered her name. It was the body of a woman, risen from the grave, and driven by a curse of vengeance. If Barbara yielded to its evil embrace, the house would become her tomb.