“There are still people back there that think I’m crazy for drawing a line and saying ‘I’ve got enough. I’m going to do what I want to do.�... Now I have a difficult time deciding what’s the right thing to do.”She wiggled against me, giggling. “Excellent choice of words...”“Huh?”“If you’d said you were having a ‘hard’ time, I’d’ve lost it.”“Grrrrrr.” I attacked her neck, her squeals being more encouragement than outrage.“I’m” gasp “Tryin’” squeal “to be” giggle “serious.”“Okay. Just one more.”She. ." The one holding the revolverraced around the bed to look at the fallen man."Good God, Caroline... you've killed him!" The femalespirit on the bed cried. Fear rose in the eyes of the ghost holding the revolver,"What are we going to do... sister?" I suddenly sat up, myfear washing from my astonished body. This ghoulishreenactment was somehow an answer to the strange history ofthe Mooring House, unknown... until now.The spirit called Caroline lowered the point of therevolver, "You have to help. More

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