# 👻 **“Shadows Over Borley” –

### *Beginning: Road in the Fog*

Fog in Essex comes quickly. One moment, you see fields and low stone walls; the next, everything is bathed in milky white.

Arthur Brook, a young historian from London, hadn't driven this road before, but tonight the fog was thicker than usual. The engine of his old Morris roared steadily, and the headlights cut through the darkness like two quivering needles of light.

“Only a few more miles,” Arthur muttered, glancing at his watch. “Borley should be just over the hill.”

He was going there to investigate the legends of the former mansion, Borley Rectory, once called “England's most haunted house.” The house had burned down, yes, but history… history lived on. People's memories, old records, letters, testimonies. And then there was that nun—the white figure who supposedly kept appearing there.

As he turned onto the narrow, winding road leading into the village, he noticed a silhouette standing by the side of the road.

A woman.

In a long, light-colored dress.

Moveless.

As if carved from mist.

Arthur slammed on the brakes. His heart skipped a beat. For a split second, the woman glanced his way—or maybe he imagined it—then she vanished. She simply… vanished.

*

### *Chapter I: The Black Raven Inn*

The inn was old, dark, smelling of wood and stale beer. A fireplace burned inside, though it was autumn, not winter. The locals sat in silence, as if afraid to speak of something everyone knew but no one wanted to name.

“Room for the night?” asked the innkeeper, Mrs. Willoughby, a petite woman with sharp, cat-like eyes.

Arthur nodded.

"Yes. And… if I may ask," he began hesitantly, "are there any sightings of… apparitions in the area?"

A dead silence fell over the inn. The man at the bar gulped down his beer as quickly as if it had just gone sour.

Mrs. Willoughby sighed.

"If you saw anything on the road… it's best to keep it to yourself. In Borley, some things are meant to remain undiscovered."

Before Arthur could ask, the inn filled with conversation again—but quieter, whispered.

He felt they were talking about him.

*

### *Chapter II: The Ruins of the Manor*

The next day, Arthur went to the ruins of Borley Rectory. All that remained were fragments of walls, pieces of foundations, and overgrown paths.

The wind blew through the empty windows, which no longer held glass—only black holes, creaking like decaying lips.

Arthur stood where, according to the old plans, the corridor leading to the chapel had once been. He closed his eyes.

Then he heard footsteps.

Delicate. Even. Feminine.

“Hello?” he called. “Who’s there?”

The footsteps faded.

And then he heard something else—a soft, almost whispered voice, just behind his ear.

> *“Please…”*

Arthur jumped back, but there was no one there.

Only the mist that had begun to rise from behind the ruins.

*

### *Chapter III: The Nun’s Story*

That evening at the inn, Arthur sat next to an older man the others called Mr. Hargraves.

“You’re researching the history of this place,” the old man said. “You’d better know the whole story.”

And he began:

“Long ago, there was a nun here named Maryanna. Young, delicate, innocent. She fell in love with a priest from Borley. No one knew of their love, but you know how it is… secrets always come to light.” When the monastery discovered that Maryanna was planning to escape with her lover, she was sentenced to death. They walled her up alive in one of the corridors. Her screams… they say they can still be heard today, if you listen closely enough.

Arthur listened silently.

“And the ghost?” he asked.

Hargraves raised his eyebrows.

“It’s Lady Maryanna. She’s looking for a way out. Or… warning.”

“From what?”

The old man fell silent. The inn fell silent again. People looked at Arthur as if they were looking at someone already… doomed.

“From what happened to her,” Hargraves replied. “And what still lurks in the ruins.”

*

### *Chapter IV: A Voice from Beyond the Wall*

That night, Arthur couldn’t sleep. He got up, dressed, and went outside. The fog was so thick that he had to walk slowly, careful not to get lost.

He reached the ruins.

The silence was unnatural. No wind, no animal. As if the world had held its breath.

Suddenly he heard:

**knock… knock… knock…**

Regular knocks. As if someone… was knocking on the wall.

Arthur moved toward the sound. He stopped at one of the surviving fragments of the wall. He placed his hand on the cold stone—and suddenly understood where the knocking was coming from.

From within.

From within the wall.

And immediately afterward—a whisper:

> *“Let me out…”*

Arthur stumbled back, stumbled, and fell to his knees. A silhouette began to emerge from the fog.

First, hands.

Then facial features.

Sad, pale eyes.

And a white habit, dirty and torn.

A nun.

But she was no longer just an apparition.

She was…something more.

“Please…” she whispered. “He’s here.”

“Who?” — Arthur almost screamed.

The nun began to reach out towards the dark

He reached the corner of the ruins.

And then he heard second footsteps—heavy, masculine, quick.

But he saw no one.

“He lives in the walls,” the apparition said. “And he never left me.”

Suddenly, something grabbed Arthur’s arm. An invisible force. Strong, cold as ice. It pulled him back. The nun screamed.

In a split second, Arthur saw a face—pale, gaunt, as if it belonged to a man who hadn’t seen light in centuries. Eyes like black holes.

It disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Arthur ran. He didn’t look back. Through the fog, all he heard was:

> *“He’ll come back for me… he always comes back…”*

*

### *Chapter V: The Truth About Borley*

The next morning at the inn, Arthur tried to recount what he’d seen. The people listened in silence, but they weren’t surprised.

"The other ghost," Mrs. Willoughby said, "was Father Benedict, the priest responsible for the nun's death. Evil… pure evil. He never left this place. He returns to anyone who gets too close."

Arthur felt a chill run down his spine.

"And Maryanna? Is she trying… to warn?"

"She tried," the landlady replied grimly. "Now you're on his list."

Arthur wanted to ask what that meant, but then the inn door slammed shut.

For a moment, he was sure the air smelled of wet, rotting earth…

And that a figure in black stood in the corner.

It flashed. It vanished.

But Arthur knew it wasn't over.

*

### *Epilogue: Letter*

A month later, Mrs. Willoughby received a letter from Arthur.

> "I left Borley, but at night I hear a clattering noise... the same noise I hear in the ruins. Sometimes I wake up and feel like someone is standing at my door. I'm afraid to go back to sleep.

>

> And yesterday in the fog I saw her—Maryanna. She was standing in the road, just like when I first arrived. But this time she looked different... as if she was trying to stop me.

>

> And then I heard footsteps. Heavy. Getting closer.

>

> He found me."

The letter ended abruptly.

Unsigned.

Arthur Brook never returned to London again.

And in Borley, when the fog is particularly thick, residents claim to see two figures:

a nun...

and a man in black walking closely behind her.

--