It hurts so much,” Little Adam was refusing to leave his bed. The stomach cramps had begun in the middle of the night and worsened with every passing hour. “She did it,” he cried. “She poisoned me again,” “Who poisoned you?” Lady Collins patted his forehead to check for signs of a fever. “Mildred. I keep telling you she comes at night and tries to kill me,” “Son…. Adam. What have I told you about telling tales?” “But I’m not lying. She’s real I promise,” But Lady Collins was feeling uncomfortable about her son’s constant fibbing. There was something about it that was so….. What was it? Realistic maybe? Tangible? The woman couldn’t quite figure out what troubled her so much, but there was something behind his stories that was so monstrous that he couldn’t’ have made them up himself. “And so this Mildred is she in the room now?” “No. I keep telling you she only comes to see me at night,” “Oh yes, so you keep saying,” she fiddled with the edge of her lace cuff.
What do You think about THE RIDDLE OF RAMSEY HALLS?
