Haunted Summer

We lighted candles in the midnight dark. Lord Byron led us single file down the dank stone stairs into the deserted dungeon of the Castle of Chillon. Like some crawling serpent with flaming eyes, our five shadowy figures shuffled along the cold stones. "Sit down," Byron commanded. "Everyone touch hands." I was frightened and I knew why. This dungeon was to represent the secret cell within ourselves where all our private haunting took place.