Winter at Blackfont
"The curse of Blackfont was waiting for me..." "What plans do you have for Blackfont, now that it's legally yours?" my father asked jovially. "Why, I want you to look after it, of course," I assured him, "just as you always have." Then, shortly after he left for Paris, I received the telegram. I read it with growing horror as the words began to dance in front of my eyes ... my father had met with a tragic accident. With shaking hands I dialed the long-distance operator, a seed of hope burning in my heart. I kept telling myself that my father was still alive. I clung to that belief in desperation. But, I had forgotten the curse of Blackfont!