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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472780" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Bedtime Story</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was just after midnight and I’d been reading in bed for an hour <br>when a sweet sickly smell wafted in, which turned horribly sour. <br>Cursing, I got out of bed and opened the window some more, <br>which seemed to cause a draft that slammed shut the door. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I reopened the door much wider this time and returned to my bed, <br>a draught blew the pages losing the place to where I’d read. <br>The temperature dropped so I again got out of bed and closed the door, <br>and also the window slightly, but it was still cold, so I closed it more. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Large goose bumps formed along my arms as I got back into bed, <br>I picked up the book and tried to find the last page that I’d read. <br>It was warmer now, but I still pulled the covers up to my chest; <br>I found my page and carried on reading with keen interest. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The atmosphere in the room seemed somehow unusual and strange <br>with an unpleasant smell and sudden coldness change. <br>Above the top of my page I saw a movement at the foot of the bed <br>and I saw someone standing there, so I raised my head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened and sent a shiver down my spine, <br>for a second I was speechless; it was an apparition the colour of lime. <br>Motionless he just stood with his face towards the floor with nothing to say, <br>his lifeless body sagged wearing a worn out coat that had seen a better day. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Who the Dickens are you and what do you want? ” I nervously said. <br>He stared straight through me when he slowly raised his head. <br>His aged gaunt tired face seemed to stare far beyond my body, <br>so I turned to see, but there was only the wall behind me. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Why don’t you answer me, ” I said, “are you unable to speak? ” <br>Then with a voice that was deep and certainly not meek, <br>said, “Oh yes I can speak when and if it suits me to, <br>but what makes you think that I want to speak with you? ” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">“Well excuse me, you came into my room and stood by my bed <br>and you looked as though something just ought to be said.” <br>“You don’t mean anything to me, I didn’t even notice you <br>until you broke my spiritual flow, like all you living do. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I don’t think you living realise that restless spirits come and go, <br>we roam the dead space of time just as the four winds blow. <br>We didn’t ask to be here, abandoned to wander forever more, <br>we’re trapped and forgotten spirits behind heaven’s door. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And don’t bother to ask me how I got here because I don’t know, <br>I never harmed anyone when I was alive and that is truly so. <br>I freely admit that some of the spirits have become evil and sour <br>and like the living, insanity becomes worse by the hour. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You the living remind us of how it was when we were there, <br>but we are enraged by the many who abuse and don’t care. <br>It is possible that you could end up here in this dead space, <br>and then with me you’ll be wearing my kind of face.” </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I was about to ask a question he quickly faded out of sight, <br>the smell and coldness went with him into the night. <br>I don’t expect anyone to believe me, but I know it’s true <br>and perhaps one day a similar experience might happen to you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Orlando+Belo">Orlando Belo</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472780" data-title="A Bedtime Story de Orlando Belo" data-description="It was just after midnight and I’d been reading in bed for an hour 
when a sweet sickly smell wafted in, which turned horribly sour. 
Cursing, I got out of bed and opened the window some more, 
which seemed to cause a draft that slammed shut the..."></div>
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