At the age of sixteen, Amelia found herself embarking on another one of her family’s tradition-filled weekend trips, this time to the serene Woodland Estate nestled in the Adelaide Hills. While the prospect of exploring an old homestead stirred her fascination with historic buildings, a sense of unease and trepidation also accompanied her as she crossed the threshold of the homestead’s front door.
The homestead, a two-story dwelling with tales woven into its very timbers, stood as a testament to bygone eras. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows, the house filled with voices and laughter as friends and family gathered for an evening of camaraderie. Amidst the mirth and stories, Amelia’s mind remained on edge, the dancing flames in the parlor fireplace casting eerie shadows that played tricks on her perception.
Her friend Mel, a kindred spirit with a love for exploration, was her companion in the endeavor of setting up their sleeping quarters on the upper floor, room number 4. As they busied themselves arranging bags and belongings, the atmosphere took on an unexpected chill. A shiver raced down Amelia’s spine, prompting her to wrap herself in a sweater. The air felt heavy, as if weighted with history itself. Gritting her teeth, she navigated the narrow hallway toward Mel’s room.
Upon entering the room, her gaze was drawn to the window, where an inexplicable presence stood. The figure, a woman with an unsettling pallor, exuded an aura of sorrow. Stifling her fear, Amelia called out, her voice barely more than a whisper. The woman turned to face her, her gaze a fleeting connection before she glided through the closed window, leaving Amelia in shocked disbelief. Heart pounding, bags forgotten, she raced downstairs, the words caught in her throat, unable to share the chilling encounter she had just witnessed.
As the sun rose on a restless night, echoes of wails and cries reverberated through the stillness, further unsettling Amelia’s sleep. Morning light brought a modicum of comfort, and with it, an irresistible pull toward the guest book that rested on the entryway table. Her fingers traced over the words that chronicled a grim history—a tale of passion and jealousy, intertwined in a dark web of despair.
The pages spoke of a murder-suicide, a haunting echo from the late 1800s. A man, a former owner of the homestead, met a tragic end when he was pushed from an east-facing window. Jealousy had gripped his new wife’s heart, driven to madness by his affair with another woman. In a frenzy of emotions, she propelled herself after him, embracing her doom as she plummeted toward the unforgiving earth below.
Amelia stood in the hallowed halls of the homestead, the stories of the past entwined with her own experiences. The haunted presence she had encountered was no longer a mere apparition; it had a name, a history, and an unbreakable connection to the very walls that whispered secrets from bygone days. As she absorbed the weight of the past, Amelia realized that some spirits never truly depart—they linger, awaiting moments of connection to those who dare to listen to the echoes of their lives.