“Be grateful for whover comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” My voice fades.
The window seems to bring the flaked paint. A strange grayish tint mixes with the earliest sunset. A warbler jumps on the branch closer to me. His orange nape takes me away from his searching eyes. He is the visitor from beyond. Beyond his season. Beyond his range. Her glares through my person. He shrills a call out.
The dresser with its fading burgundy Gerbera lies waiting to crumble away. The ancient house groans and pops as the evening chill gathers. Timeless ritual of the night collapsing the days work is fine fashion. It’s tender cool fingers run down my spine.
I feint a move to warmer rooms. I like the faded room. Comfort in its condition. An orange glow climbs past the metal frame toward me. I’m glued by the scene of an ancient city catching it’s nightly fire before fading to black.
In the stillness moments rush by. More fingers of cool reach across my back. Reluctantly, I move toward a more festive place with strangers called family.
In the hall, laughing. Tender as if calling a lover to gather. Intimate details promise desires fulfilled.
I stop in mid stride.
A door open to the left. A room with a tub and candles surrounding her watery grave. I long for her still. I can sense the scent of her. My eyes touch flesh that is no longer of this Earth. I’m waiting for her to turn. …. she always does right before fading away. Back under the water into which she left.
I sigh. My guilt is a pleasure. Then glass silvers into my soul. I gave up reaching out to her. My trance shatters.
“Hey, are you going on there?” The nephew points at the bathroom.
“No, I just thought I heard something in there.” I speak slowly like I’m learning the language.
“No ghosts! I hope.” He jumps in the room closing the door.
“Not any more.” I’m telling myself this as I retreat to the rest of the people I escaped from 30 minutes ago