sparky lightbourne
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Ghost Story. - (warning feelings and stuff :o )A Ghost Story.
Yellowing cliff top grass, in the shade of the creaking salt split silver birches. The sea spray from far below only reached this high in real perfect storms. The branches of the birch trees reach out over the edge grasping like brittle barky fingers, straining to get hold of the scattered screeching sea birds that wheel and spiral through the chill white sky. The gulls and guillemots have no need of these frail wooden structures, they nest in the secure rocky embrace of the pitted, dented, and pock marked cliff face.
I turn back from the open ocean, and look at her, she’s smiling slightly, nervously, she hates heights I know, and yet I still dragged her out here, to admire the view in one of my favourite places. That smile though, lights me up and I can’t help smiling back, it’s so good to see. My hand has been resting lightly in hers, and I remove it then grab her lower arm, pulling myself into her warm soft embrace, the pale oval of her face framed by short black hair. We kiss and I can taste the salt on her dry wind chapped lips. Even through the layers of clothing I can feel her heart beat, mixing with mine in a staccato.
“Come on, let’s get back to the car,” she says, drawing away from me, away from the drop.
We walk back to the road through the trees, a strange half dead wood, some trees still decorated with lush green foliage, others with stark naked boughs jutting harshly almost seeming to pierce the air. She’s lost in her own thoughts, delicate hands playing with the end of her scarf, like she does when preoccupied. I nearly step in a rotting badger corpse that lies across the narrow earth path, it has collapsed in on itself decaying almost in front of my eyes, almost animated like watching a time lapse film of the whole process of recycling flesh.
We’re at the road now, she got there slightly before me, and I see her look up and down, and then back at me, her mouth a dark circle, her forehead furrowed, I know what she’s going to say.
“The car’s gone, maybe we came out of the trees at the wrong place?”
“No chance, look at how far we can see in either direction down the road,” I gesture in a slightly over the top way.
“Some bastard has fucking nicked it, I can’t believe that round here, this isn’t the city for Christ sake.”
“Oh well, not a lot we can do about it here, I bet there’s still no signal on our mobiles, we’ll have to hitch back to the village, it’s only ten miles oh so.”
“Yeah right, hitch, yeah only ten miles.” I’m pissed off, but it feels empty, like I’m just faking the anger because I know it’s what I’m supposed to feel.
She’s already started walking, head down again, hands in pockets against the cold, I’m just conscious of my ears aching thanks to that wind on top of the cliff. It takes us three hours to get back. None of the few passing cars stop, and after the first hour and a half we give up trying to get them to. Conversation is desultory, as we walk in single file and it’s difficult to hear each other anyway, I’m glad of the excuse. As I watch her, in front of me, that distinctive walk, her brown suede boots, god I love her so much it hurts, it actually cause a dull throbbing pain in my chest every time I think about her. But nothing I can say to her sounds anything but empty and meaningless, clichéd and trite. God only knows what she is feeling at the moment, I used to be able to read her every thought on that expressive mobile face. Now it’s less readable most of the time than the cliff face we’ve just been standing on, like a waxwork. That smile was the first in months, and was seemingly only temporary.
We arrive back in the village and I draw level with her, looking down for a reassuring glimmer, but she just glances back blankly, not even noticing my expression.
Ducks waddle fatly across the road in front of us, emigrating from the pond in the middle of the green to the shelter of the yew trees bulging out of the graveyard. There’s a few children playing by the edge of the pond, I can see them brightly coloured blobs through the tears that are stinging my eyes, I can hear their shrieks and shouts distorted by the wind and the quacking of the ducks.
I feel drained from the trek, but my feet aren’t aching, weirdly I actually feel like I want to keep on walking for ever. Unfortunately we’re back at the pub in which we’re staying, a thatched roof white walled and black beamed building, claimed by the brewery to date back to the seventeenth century. The foyer and reception desk are deserted, I look through to the lounge bar area, a few locals are sitting in gloomy corners, a weak fire splutters and crackles half heartedly in the hearth. Most of the light comes from dull grey shards of wan Sunday afternoon sunlight stabbing through the smoky fug of tobacco fumes and stale roast beef and beer smells. Eyes gleam under flat tweed caps not looking at us though, mostly staring into space.
Back in our room I collapse onto the freshly made clean scented bed, kicking my shoes off as I fall. She busies herself, searching the room for bits and bobs we might have left.
“Where’s the suitcase?” She sounds shrill, irritable and improvement on sounding flat and lifeless.
We search the room from top to bottom, even the tiny on suite, there’s no sign.
“Don’t tell me you put it in the car?” Accusing now.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t” To be honest I’m not sure of anything at the moment.
“Maybe room service have moved it, put it down in reception ready for us to check out?”
“Cheeky bastards better not have, we’re paid up until five o’clock this afternoon. I’m going down to see.”
I lay back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, for some reason I don’t care, the luggage hardly seems important to me now.
Not long seemed to pass before she was back.
“No sign of our luggage or any staff, I bet you did leave it in the car.” Accusing again.
“Ok perhaps I did, I’m sorry I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”
Silence.
“Have you rung the police about the car yet?”
“Of course, I tried but there’s a fault on the line, I could hear them but they couldn’t here me, I’ll ring again when we get back, the car’s insured so it’s only for the insurance anyway.”
“Well I did see that eccentric old boy downstairs, John, he said we could get a train at 18.30.”
I wanted to say goodbye to him, he was the only person who’d actually really spoken to us since we arrived, there was something about him, he seemed to know more about what I was feeling than he wanted to let on, and he’s made a real effort to show us the most interesting places to see.
Several hours later and we’re on the train, I hadn’t managed to find John to say goodbye, and I was staring out of the window, at shabby back gardens dotted with death trap trampolines and dog shit among the long grass, stunted trees, ramshackle allotments, weed covered embankments, industrial estates with unstable stacks of broken pallets and rusting yellow and brown forklift trucks. The dull dark grey sky deepening every ten minutes or so seemed to be pressing down on the little train. She was sat opposite me across the stained formica table, as usual lately lost in her own thoughts, face pale and drawn. The other passengers in the crowded carriage seemed to be avoiding our table, which I welcomed.
Orange sodium flares light the way down our road as we approach the house, which is cold and quiet, windows gaping blackly, the front garden overgrown with weeds, an upturned broken peddle car still visible in the middle. Tidying and gardening had hardly seemed appropriate recently. The forsale sign is hanging at a slightly forlorn angle by the gate post, a sold sticker plastered over the top.
The key doesn’t work in the front door, but we go in anyway. Where else have we got to go?
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wraeth
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GOOD one for Samhain Eve :smt010
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Ninjadmin
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i like that one a lot
specially the bit about walking behind a beautiful girl who doesn't want to be there and racking your brains to make it better....
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sparky lightbourne
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| Ninjadmin wrote: |
specially the bit about walking behind a beautiful girl who doesn't want to be there and racking your brains to make it better.... |
not that i've ever been in that situation or owt 
on advice i've heavily edited this one and submitted the third draft to a magazine, so we'll see...
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Ninjadmin
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everyone has been there i hope.....
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carmella chihuahua
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i thought tis was wonderful  Loved description of view from train-seen it mentally so many times and you encapsulated it perfectly. without wanting to sound like an english tutor, you have used wonderful detail but without going over the top-was dead vivid and real
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