Feature

Do You Believe In Ghosts?

Kazi Hayat Reza

The dull drone of many voices kicked up a notch as he walked into the inn. He superficially surveyed the interior and strolled lazily to the bar. The bartender, wide mouthed, oiled mustached and wearing a stained apron, cut off from a hearty conversation to serve the newcomer. “What'll it be, mate?” he asked smiling.

“Just water,” was the bland reply.
“Haven't seen you around before. New in town?”
The barman was trying to stir up a conversation, but it was a losing battle. The man looked out the window to the mansion atop the hill and said, almost to himself, “I'm the new owner of that house.”

“Old 'Jackdaw House'!!” the bartender exclaimed in dismay and astonishment.
Pin-drop silence donned the inn. All eyes were either on the stranger or the bartender; no one dared to break the ice.

The man, a bit perplexed at the reaction, turned round with a raised eyebrow and asked, “Yes, is there a problem?”

“Tha- that place is haunted. You don't want to go there.”
The man chuckled at the statement and started to leave.
“Wait mister, I'm serious. That place is really haunted by the ghost of its first owner. All the villagers here know about it and we never go there.”

The man stopped at the door and turned one last time with a credulous look on his face, and said, “Tell me, do you believe in ghosts?” The bartender looked at the others with an uneasy look on his face, unable to answer. The stranger left, muttering about their foolish customs and superstitions as the regular clamour of the inn returned, though not to its original level.

The bartender that night felt very uneasy about letting the man go that place he knew very well that anyone entering the mansion's grounds was brutally murdered by the spectre. He could have saved him. Lying on his bed he realized that it might not be too late to save him after all. He decided to try his luck at rescuing the man. He slipped out of his house silently and made for the forest that surrounded the mansion. He plunged in and in minutes was completely lost.

He had given up hope of ever finding his way out, let alone saving that man, when suddenly the snapping of twigs behind him brought him back to his senses. He turned round to see, to his relief, the man standing behind him. “Oh! Am I glad to see you? I'm here to…”

“What are you doing on my property?” was the stern question.
“Why, I'm here to rescue you.”
“I don't need to be rescued, old man. You better rescue yourself.”
“But…” he started.
“Go straight left. You will soon come up to the main road,” was the brief reply.
The bartender started to leave when he was stopped again by the man.
“Wait, before you leave I want to get the answer to my question,” he said.
The bartender was confused, “What question, sir?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” replied the man. “The bartender shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, “No, I guess I don't.”

The man seemed satisfied with the answer and nodded his head, “Good.” And with that, he turned round and vanished in a puff of smoke right before the stunned bartender. The eerie silence of the forest was replaced by a low sorrowful moan.

(Doing his A-levels)

Sumaiya Taimur

I was delighted to find a short news report on the English Writing Centre of Stamford University, Bangladesh. I was delighted because I go there everyday. As a student of the Department of English, I feel I need to develop my grasp of the English language.

I would like to thank my university for establishing a writing centre in order to help us increase our writing skill. Our teacher helps us arrange the thoughts of a topic. Moreover, we occasionally practise writing short drama scripts and practise speaking too. But the main emphasis is always on writing.

The good part of this centre is that any student from any department of this university can come here. The university has made it totally free of charges for the well being of the students of Stamford University.

Department Of English
Stamford University, Bangladesh
Dhanmondi Campus