Ghost Story K.R. Schneider The children in the village tell a story - about the house at the top of the hill. It’s quiet now - for the most part. Its bricks are worn. They crack and crumble. It was a grand house once, back when the first Mr. and Mrs. Underhill were alive. Before the fire. Before Maggie. Servants in every hall; lamps lit every room. You could see the lights all the way from the edge of town. Bright, warm lights. The kind of lights that gave an impression of...safety. Or an illusion anyway. I’m not sure it has ever been safe there. In the house at the top of the hill. The house knows too much tragedy. Like the night they all died in the fire: the Underhills. Well...all of them except Thurston. Like the night that Margaret Underhill went swinging from the widow’s walk. It was something like ten hours before the paperboy notified the authorities. People thought her husband would have found her. But...the cracking of lightning on a tree branch and the snap of ...