A New Realm

fantasy, ghost storyRuby took a breath, and with a shaking hand, signed her name to the list.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ruby’s twin sister whispered in her ear. The trails of uncertainty in Trudy’s breath caused Ruby’s heart to thump thump thump.

Finishing the n in her last name “Rubicon” with flair, Ruby dropped the ancient fountain pen onto the solid oak table, which had been passed from generation to generation. She nodded a weak Yes. Continue reading

The Tattoo Artist

tattoo, ghost story, blog post

By Vogler from Wikimedia Commons.

As a tattoo artist, Jilly had met many “unusual” people, but this particular repeat customer was the most unique.

Jilly shivered as the tall lean woman floated through the parlor door and sank immediately into Jilly’s “design” chair.

“Hi!” Jilly greeted with a nervous wave of her hand. Usually blunt and confident, Jilly’s demeanor changed when this client appeared weekly.

Jilly began again: “This is your 13th appointment.” Continue reading

Dawn’s Escape at Dusk

I didn’t normally respond to demands, especially demands by purple-wearing, soothsaying, weirdly-named psychics.

But at this point, I was more worried than peeved by Aurora’s “request” to visit her immediately. On my cell phone just minutes earlier, an on-line newspaper bleeped a headline: “Man found dead on quest to find Hal the Huntsman treasure.” (See last week’s From Dawn to Dusk.)

Was Todd the man found dead? Perhaps Aurora/Dawn truly could “see” the answer. Continue reading

The Old Mansion on My Street

Concord MA, graveyardI consider taking a walk, but then I remember I need my crutches.

Not that I need the crutches. My leg is fine now. The break was clean; the cast inconvenient but a nice attention getter; the crutches cumbersome and ugly.

I would have liked to have thrown the tall rigid walking implements into the trash. Or at least recycled them for some other poor soul to use.

But, sagely, I left my un-needed crutches standing in the foyer, by the front door.

For just this kind of day. . .Autumn, fall leaves Continue reading

A Ghost Story

ghost, ghost story, spirit, friendI know it’s going to happen tonight. All the signs are right. Children off on their own, husband away on business, my two best friends gone on vacations with their families.

I am alone. Finally.

For the past two months I’ve been preparing for this time, not knowing that it would come, but preparing nonetheless.

The sun finally loses its power over gravity and sinks down into the dark rose horizon. The moon floats ahead, but herds of black clouds cover its cheerful shine, darkening the sky and the earth below.

I turn off the lights to the living room, the hallway, then the stairway, and finally my bedroom.

I am swathed in glorious blackness.

I close my eyes, then open them so the room is revealed to me like a developing photo in a dark room.  Familiar shapes and shadows relax me.

Then an unfamiliar form floats from the window to the door and stops a few feet away.

“Virginia?” I ask.  She nods her head. I see no face, no female body, but still, I know it’s my dear friend of many years, my mentor, dead over 15 years now. I have talked to her so often in my prayers, but never a response.

Now she speaks, though no words fill the room.

We revel in memories of the life we shared, and she laughs heartily. My soul fills with the sound.  I have missed it, but now realize that it has always been part of me, and shall remain so.

She answers my personal questions of what lay beyond.  I won’t tell you what she says.

Felicity, my cat, creeps into the room, staring at me with her yellow eyes.  I’m afraid she may think her mistress has lost her mind, but instead she meows to me.  “Why stay here? Take a cat nap and see the world.”cat, ghost, story

Oh, I suddenly realize; I’ve always been able to go back and forth between worlds. I just don’t nap enough.

I close my eyes, feeling Virginia’s presence close at hand.  We soar off through the window panes into the black night.  I am so happy my heart balloons twice its size. I see George, then, and grandmama, and, of course, Pauli.  They are just as free as me.

We head toward the prism that has suddenly appeared, and just as suddenly we’re in a garden of roses and delphiniums and hydrangeas. The soil is moist and smells like cut grass, starfish, and summer moonlight.  Felicity joins us and converses with a butterfly.

“Change is imperative,” the colorful flying insect says wisely.

I wink and find myself back in my dark bedroom, seated Buddha style, petting Felicity in soft gentle strokes.  She gazes up at me and says only one word in a long, low purr.

“Llllllooooooovvvvvvvveeeeeeeeee.ghost story, butterfly, cat, soul

 “Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for

but never seen.” (Anne Sexton)