Wild beams of moonlight cross both floor and wall.”
“The windowpanes reflected apples, reflected roses all the leaves were green in the glass.” ( Source) Just impressions amid minds clouded by… who knows what? “ Our eyes darken, we hear no steps beside us we see no lady spread her ghostly cloak.” There are no white sheets, clattering chains, or “whoooooo”. I loved the imagery, ambiguity, deliberately odd language (fluid tenses, vague pronouns), opacity despite all the glass, poetic phrasing, and a candle that seems more dead than alive (it “ burns stiff and still).
“ Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting.” The unspecified, slippery sense of things not being quite right, not easily explicable, works regardless of your belief, or lack of, in ghosts or gods. Review of title story In a couple of pages, Virginia Woolf summons Schrodinger's ghost story: both the antithesis and apotheosis of the genre.
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