Source The house on the hill had always fascinated Rahul. But he never dared to go there. No one did. Because they said it was haunted. Haunted by fairies. “Miss, aren’t fairies wicked?” Rahul asked his teacher one day. She, the English teacher, had just narrated a fairy tale in the class. It was the story of a beautiful fairy that went around playing little mischievous tricks on people in order to teach them a lesson. Her name was Pansy. She also helped people when they were in need. “Fairies are not wicked,” answered the teacher. “They are just mischievous. Like children.” Rahul decided to visit the house on the hill and meet the fairy who lived in it. His heart was pounding when he stood in front of the house. The house looked like an old palace. Old it was, yet clean too as if someone had been maintaining it regularly. But the fountain in the front yard gave the impression of desolation. It was not working. Probably it never did in the last man
Cerebrate and Celebrate