She peeked from between her hands. It was the guillotine scene. A bloody head rolled from the victim's neck stump into a bucket next to the guilloti...e's sharp blade. She braced herself for the next scene as the boat took another sickening, sharp turn. She felt something wet, something fury, slip around her shoulders. She tried to contain her screams. It would go away, she told herself, just like the slimy mass before. But the wet fur seemed to press closer to her. She felt a weight get into. Not that being alone together bothered us we had been holidaying in our home in Falmouth for may years it had been in our family since the 18th century courtesy of a successful frigate captain and his prize money. The house used to seem creepy to me the wooden floors and beams creaked and moaned sometimes it seemed for no apparent reason.This particular year it seemed to creak less possibly to the dry summer or I might have finally started getting used to the noise.While we were there mum took. More

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