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Category: General Nonfiction/Dark Fantasy
Description: In Norway, a country of pragmatic denizens, it was trolls in previous centuries that sent shivers racing up and down splendid Nordic spines. Happily, capricious trolls have jumped from the pages of folk tales onto the stage, been cast in musical reviews, and finally come to rest in souvenir shops where they feel quite at home. This means that ghosts and apparitions have finally come into their own. And in this ancient land, with its wild, Viking past, there are ghosts aplenty. According to Sherlock Holmes' creator, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ghosts have an existing range of up to 250 years. Although no one can deny or confirm his hypothesis, this gives us generous time to enjoy the ghostly sounds of nonexistent church bells off the west coast of Norway, and the headless monk wandering among monastery ruins. We can relate to the Bishop's wife who fainted when only she saw the Monk of Nidaros Cathedral with blood dripping from a hole in his throat. We can wander through magnificent mansions, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the gray ladies who inhabit them. The ambience of the Union Hotel, its Victorian splendor lulling guests into soporific enjoyment, can suddenly be interrupted by the sobs of Linda, a beautiful servant girl who suffered an Ophelia-type death in 1900 when her lover, a member of Emperor Wilhelm's military entourage, committed suicide. The blue room, where she resides, is so popular that reservations must be made a year in advance. Read and enjoy!
eBook Publisher: Zumaya Publications, 2006
eBookwise Release Date: October 2006

1 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [289 KB]
Words: 64723
Reading time: 184-258 min.

She was only eleven years old when Berte experienced a strange encounter in the deep forest near her home.

The year was 1865, and Berte several times had followed the path through the tall trees to the small village of Bjorke, which was a distance of about three kilometres. She had never been afraid to go through the woods, even when she was alone. Wolves were no danger, but there were still bears about in those days, and the young girl had often seen signs of their presence.

On this particular day, her errand was a simple matter of buying something--she was not visiting a grandmother with a basket of food. It was a hot summer day, and on the return trip, she stopped in the coolness of the woods, sat down on a fallen tree and rested.

It was then that she heard a strange sound. Someone was whistling a tune. Curious, because she knew all the people in the area, she began to search for the whistler. It was a deep, husky sound, as if someone was attempting to whistle and sing at the same time.

Coming to a clearing, she saw a bear sitting on a heap of dry fir needles. He held his two front paws on either side of his snout while pouring forth his mournful song. Berte watched only a moment or so before turning and running home. When she told her alarmed mother about the incident, she added, "But he had such kind eyes!"