cattarang

     The house at the end of lane had been standing for as long as anyone could remember.  It was there before the graveyard, before the church, before the docks were constructed or the houses raised.  It almost seemed like part of the landscape, as huge and foreboding as an unforgiving mountain range.  It had seemed, to many, that the house stood empty for many many years, so many years in fact, that it was believed to be haunted.  Some said that on particularly stormy nights, you could hear the ghosts wailing along with the wind.     But that was a tale for children, to keep them from straying too close.  The fact of the matter was that T