The general’s wife invited us all to the parlor, so the séance could begin. The general himself had, earlier that evening, harrumphed emphatically that he wanted nothing to do with such superstitions and stormed upstairs to lock himself in his study.
His wife, led the five of us, and begged us to sit around a small table in the middle of the room. We were soon joined by the medium, a wisp of a woman who materialized from some dark corner once we were seated.
“Join hands,” she said. “And steel your nerves. The spirits are eager to meet you.”
That’s 31 stories for 31 days in October.