Ghosts and lace

3 Oct

The writing prompt this past week on Red Writing Hood was to write my feelings, emotions or fiction on seeing two different images.

1.  “Others Around?”

It is almost 6:00 a.m. and the dampness and fog from the overnight storm still hangs in the air.  With each small step, a tiny “splish” sound echoes into the stillness of the early morning.  Though the first glimpses of sun try to peak through to warm up the air, the still lit street lamps give off a lukewarm glow in their own way.  Glancing ahead down the street, everything seems to be enveloped in the pillowy atmosphere and I proceed slowly to the first wrought iron bench in the row.  As I turn and slowly sink down into the cool stiffness of the bench, I let out a deep sigh and allow the stresses of the day before to flow out of me.

It is so unbelievable how this heavily populated tourist-ridden town is completely deserted right now.  With no noise except the “whoosh” of air as it blows in brief gusts, I sit and ponder all of the stories of ghosts that notoriously haunt its alleys and ancient homes.  The hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand up and I am acutely anxious of all around me.  The peaceful morning I had been enjoying solo has now been interrupted in my mind as images of possible spirits lurk nearby.

Taking another long deep breath, I gather myself and rise from my seat.  Slowly beginning the walk back to the rustic old hotel, I notice that in recent moments, the fog has started to lift and I know that before long, the streets will be crawling with eager tourists and locals who won’t have the benefit of the serenity I did as they hurry on in their busy days.

2. “Misplaced”

The young man timidly raised his shaky fist to lift the brass knocker on the bright red door to the massive house he stood in front of.  Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced behind him to observe the beautiful lanscaped grounds and garden and cobblestone path that he just traveled.  After another moment, the door slid open and he was facing a stern-faced 60-something year old gentleman wearing a crisp black suit.

“Good afternoon,” the butler said.  “May I help you, sir?”

Clearing his throat, the young man replied back much too quietly to be taken seriously.  “Yes, I’m here to see Elizabeth.”

Nodding, the butler gestured for the young man to step inside.  Upon entering, the young man detected the faint scent of vanilla and the distant sounds of classical music.  He followed the butler down a narrow hallway lined with old photographs and detailed artwork.  The hardwood floors shone and the heels of his old work boots left a resounding “clomp clomp” as they continued toward a larger room at the back of the house.

Moving through an arched ivory entryway, he now found himself in most uncomfortable territory.  Salmon colored walls, large framed pieces of art and a most ornate spiral staircase overtook the entirety of this room.  Everything was so formal from the intricate detail of the iron railing to the carved wooden door frame at the other end of the room to the flower print sitting chairs in each corner.  Nervously clasping and unclasping his hands, he began to pace the room.  Suddenly aware of just how underdressed he was in his worn plaid shirt and faded blue work pants, he wondered why he hadn’t thought to borrow clothes from his older brother before departing from home.  Stealing glances to the top of the spiral staircase, he wondered where it led to and he began to silently beg in his head for her to walk down those stairs.

Elizabeth, though he’d just met her today at the market, seemed the most pleasant and beautiful woman he’d ever known.  How could he not, however, have paid attention to her expensive clothes and impeccable manners to know that this would be the world she lived in?!  Cursing his inattention to detail, he knew that with each moment of waiting, he was getting closer to leaving.  This life of butlers, fancy furniture and priviledge was something he knew nothing about, having grown up in a walk up flat and working for pennies.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Elizabeth finished brushing her wavy blond hair, pressed her lips together and took one final look at her reflection in the mirror before turning on the heels of her fancy boots to walk toward the staircase.  Placing her gloved right hand on the iron railing, she gently began to descend into the sitting room below.  Once downstairs, Elizabeth was puzzled to find no one there.  She was sure that she heard voices a little while ago and footsteps in the room as Ethan had been waiting for her.  Following the slight trail of dirt back through the doorway into the hallway, she saw that there was no one in the hallway either.  And, continuing to the front door, she opened it to see that across the few acres of lawn, Ethan was just exiting the outer gate of the premises without turning back…


11 Responses to “Ghosts and lace”

  1. Kevin October 3, 2011 at 3:26 am #

    Ugh! A cliffhanger! Very good story. Can’t wait for more.

  2. Megan (Best of Fates) October 3, 2011 at 2:41 pm #

    I love how you make your stories descriptive while still keeping them engaging!

  3. Pat October 3, 2011 at 4:57 pm #

    Great writing Jenny! You’ve missed your calling. Your words captured my attention and I wanted more.

  4. Louise Ducote February 23, 2012 at 11:06 am #

    Visiting from SITS and loving your site! I’m impressed with your handling of this prompt (and your son is adorable).

  5. MARIE COLE February 23, 2012 at 1:46 pm #

    Great writing! :))))

  6. Joanne February 23, 2012 at 2:49 pm #

    Love your imagery in both of these! Happy SITS day!

    • stickynotequeen February 28, 2012 at 2:40 pm #

      Thank you! I love bringing people into my stories!

  7. Lisa February 23, 2012 at 3:34 pm #

    You are definitely a writer! Wow! Happy SITS Day!

  8. Classic NYer February 23, 2012 at 8:59 pm #

    Oh, why did he leave? If he’d just stayed a few minutes more… I love love love these stories. Happy SITS day!

  9. Ashley Marie February 23, 2012 at 9:05 pm #

    This encourages me to write better. I used to LOVE writing as a child and now I’m just oh so lazy. Thanks for the inspiration.


  1. Ultimate Blog Party 2012! « stickynotequeen - April 16, 2012

    […] Ghosts And Lace […]

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