The air darkens, revealing what it has always contained. Ancestors rub their eyes, nod to the neighbors, sweep the clouds aside for the moon. I pull out my embarrassingly thick glasses from my pocketbook, put the pill that helps me see both past and future between my lips. Cough it down.
A child who still believes in the invisible pokes her head through my window. She is swimming in shadow. Her mother thought it might be her grandmother's ghost and took her to the fortune-teller’s. The church. What follows her grew until the day she opened her mouth and all twenty-one grams of her soul dropped out.
I am her welcoming committee. I will tell her the story of what her life should have been.
This is light on ghost, but the exercise was a fun, quick writing practice. Thanks, Meg!
The Ghost of Great Aunt Edith Cleans Out a Closet
Who needs brown anything? My darling grand niece, what could you possibly flaunt, possibly flash to the world that you are my niece, that my flair lives on in this closet so full of embarrassingly plain pants and silly pocketbooks, shirts and thick shoes? This tracksuit, this jumper, these plastic hangers, too. Oh, gracious, no, toss it all away! My silken soul might die another death, might hang mortified from this shelf. Why must you reach for white when race car reds rumble in our blood, when a pillbox of sparkle was left at your feet?
Mary Amelia came awake with a start, the misty space around her pushed temporarily aside. Hearing her name through the mists had penetrated her nearly gone consciousness. She heard it again, “Your three greats grandmother was named Mary Amelia. She was married to the judge, and my grandmother was her daughter.”
Mary Amelia felt a shiver of pleasure run through her nonexistent body, that like an amputee’s missing leg could still have sensations and tingles.
“Mary Amelia and the judge lived in Corsicana, Texas. We should go visit there when you’re older. We could visit the family home. I believe there are still relatives of some degree living there.”
Mary Amelia realized she could now open her absent eyes and saw through the mists a middle aged woman sitting a kitchen table with a small child, maybe a girl. Mary Amelia had noticed in prior moments over the past century or so that it had become harder and harder to distinguish the young boys and girls. They all wore denim and T-shirts, some of the boys had long hair; some of the girls very short; they all looked rounder and healthier than many of her own children had back in the late 1800s.
“Do you see this silver case? This is what they called a ‘calling card case’ and it belonged to Mary Amelia. Telephones in houses were still uncommon, so people would stop by to visit a friend, and present their calling card (just a slip of heavy card paper with their name and address on it) to whomever opened the door. If the person you wanted to visit wasn’t home, the card would be given to them to know that a return visit would soon be required. Manners were more strict then!”
“My case! They still have my silver case!” Mary Amelia could have sworn she felt a tear of joy trickle down her invisible cheek. She was delighted over the invention of genealogy websites. Her name was spoken aloud more and more often nowadays. And as all ghosts know, they are never truly gone — burnt out with a last ember of consciousness — until none of the living remember their name.
I love seeing the world through Mary Amelia’s eyes. So many wonderful details. Genealogy websites are wonderful things indeed, and of course the dead love them! The ending is weirdly haunting.. “until none of the living remember their name”..
Who Will Tell the Storyteller a Story?
The air darkens, revealing what it has always contained. Ancestors rub their eyes, nod to the neighbors, sweep the clouds aside for the moon. I pull out my embarrassingly thick glasses from my pocketbook, put the pill that helps me see both past and future between my lips. Cough it down.
A child who still believes in the invisible pokes her head through my window. She is swimming in shadow. Her mother thought it might be her grandmother's ghost and took her to the fortune-teller’s. The church. What follows her grew until the day she opened her mouth and all twenty-one grams of her soul dropped out.
I am her welcoming committee. I will tell her the story of what her life should have been.
This is really cool. At first I read "invisible" as "visible" but that might work too!
Love this! “I am her welcoming committee”. Amazing. Very moving.
Thanks, Meg. Delighted with your reaction!
This is light on ghost, but the exercise was a fun, quick writing practice. Thanks, Meg!
The Ghost of Great Aunt Edith Cleans Out a Closet
Who needs brown anything? My darling grand niece, what could you possibly flaunt, possibly flash to the world that you are my niece, that my flair lives on in this closet so full of embarrassingly plain pants and silly pocketbooks, shirts and thick shoes? This tracksuit, this jumper, these plastic hangers, too. Oh, gracious, no, toss it all away! My silken soul might die another death, might hang mortified from this shelf. Why must you reach for white when race car reds rumble in our blood, when a pillbox of sparkle was left at your feet?
OH man, I love her personality! How wonderful.
Dead people love genealogy sites
Mary Amelia came awake with a start, the misty space around her pushed temporarily aside. Hearing her name through the mists had penetrated her nearly gone consciousness. She heard it again, “Your three greats grandmother was named Mary Amelia. She was married to the judge, and my grandmother was her daughter.”
Mary Amelia felt a shiver of pleasure run through her nonexistent body, that like an amputee’s missing leg could still have sensations and tingles.
“Mary Amelia and the judge lived in Corsicana, Texas. We should go visit there when you’re older. We could visit the family home. I believe there are still relatives of some degree living there.”
Mary Amelia realized she could now open her absent eyes and saw through the mists a middle aged woman sitting a kitchen table with a small child, maybe a girl. Mary Amelia had noticed in prior moments over the past century or so that it had become harder and harder to distinguish the young boys and girls. They all wore denim and T-shirts, some of the boys had long hair; some of the girls very short; they all looked rounder and healthier than many of her own children had back in the late 1800s.
“Do you see this silver case? This is what they called a ‘calling card case’ and it belonged to Mary Amelia. Telephones in houses were still uncommon, so people would stop by to visit a friend, and present their calling card (just a slip of heavy card paper with their name and address on it) to whomever opened the door. If the person you wanted to visit wasn’t home, the card would be given to them to know that a return visit would soon be required. Manners were more strict then!”
“My case! They still have my silver case!” Mary Amelia could have sworn she felt a tear of joy trickle down her invisible cheek. She was delighted over the invention of genealogy websites. Her name was spoken aloud more and more often nowadays. And as all ghosts know, they are never truly gone — burnt out with a last ember of consciousness — until none of the living remember their name.
I love seeing the world through Mary Amelia’s eyes. So many wonderful details. Genealogy websites are wonderful things indeed, and of course the dead love them! The ending is weirdly haunting.. “until none of the living remember their name”..