img001

Timeless Vigil

He would return, he promised, striding up to the road that warm autumn afternoon. Each footstep pulled at her reluctant heart.

Now, one-hundred-fifty years to the day, as October’s sun casts dark shadows, the yellowed lace wafts gently as her ephemeral face appears at the upstairs window.

 

 

Bruce Chronister.

  • Sandra-Jane Goddard

    Ooh, nicely done, Bruce. Spooky.

  • Louie Winslow

    Good beginning but this cries out for more.

  • Diana Feltner

    Still waiting. Such sadness, I love the description of the scene.

  • Alan Barker

    One house I would not be visiting! Which spirit was visiting whom? Thought provoking.

  • Bruce Chronister

    Thanks to each of you for your supportive remarks. Don’t you just love “and that is why, to this very day….” stories? It is to this very day that many places are haunted by a sense of great sadness, years since they have witnessed such a drama. Yul Brynner, as a Gypsy (and wearing a gold earring, natch), remarked, “We Gypsies see a beauty in sadness,” And so it is, we writers (even if we hail not from Wales) sense such a beauty. I think it is because sadness is the garment next to our souls–it is our one basic, common bond as caring beings. It is akin to our all being children–in the dark. And what other goal do we have, than to first reach out and touch another with our words (witness Neil Diamond’s “Song Sung Blue!). Don’t be afraid, Sandra-Jane or Alan…it is a good thing. Ever, BC