Post by twilight on Oct 12, 2017 16:49:41 GMT -5
Take a deep breath.
Exhale.
The year is 1854. My name is John. My parents were Gloria and Mitchell. My father was born in London and brought here with his great aunt. My mother was from mexico, their marriage was arranged by his great aunt, and it was a good match. They genuinely liked each other. And from there love grew. I was born soon after. My mother and father really couldnt communicate too well with each other. My mother only spoke spanish and my father spoke english, well really Irish, and thats a language all its own. (Its only funny if you’re Irish you will know what I mean.)
I am 9 years old at the time. I was home schooled for the most part by our neighors. The lady used to teach school back in the east. And when her and husband moved here she found herself with too much time, and so she gratiouisly offerred to teach me as well as her own daughter. My teachers name was Noelia, and her daughter was simply called Nella. She and I became fast friends, how could we not? We were the only kids within a 30 mile radius.
I would attend Noelias home school 3 times a week, Monday-Wednsdays. And on most Saturdays or Sundays we would visit them or they would visit us for the whole day and our familys would spend time together.
One particular warm september afternoon, Nella and I are playing hide and go seek. She decides to hide in the well but had forgotten it had rained hard the week before the well was no longer empty. As she crawled in she lost her footing and sank hard, I jumped in right after her. We were very far from our parents, they wouldnt hear us and wouldnt miss us for some time.
We huddled in the water together, shivvering, we were both afraid. She asked why I went in, I replied how could I not? She said she was afraid to die. I told her she would be ok. She asked how I was so sure? I said because I wouldnt allow it.
Nella blinked at me, she understood something, she always sort of understood how different I was. I was afraid but never the way small children were. When we played alone we often spoke about how nice it would be if we grew up and married each other. We spoke about how nice our house would be and what I would for work, how many kids we would have, we played make believe but a part of me wish it would come true one day.
Nella looked at my eyes and said “I secretly wished you would be my husband one day”.
And I said “So did I?”
I told her she needed to climb up on my shoulders and get out of the well. She asked what about me? But I didnt answer.
Before she did what I asked, she hovered close and kissed me on the lips, not as a child but as a girl who was saying goodbye to someone she loved and would miss. The kiss lasted but a moment and I remember now, even after all this time, somethings stay with you forever.
The last thing she said to me was that she would miss me. And it took forever for her to climb out and when she did and got our parents back it was too late for me. I was gone. It took a few lifetimes for me to remember that particular version of myself but when I did I was able to research that Nella became a school teacher but she never married, never had any children, she lived to be 102 years old. And I wanted to go see her before she passed on, at least to tell her that I was back and that I still had not forgotten her. But I didnt. I couldnt. I was a ghost to her, a faint but nice memory and I should never look back, that would be a disfavor to those left behind.
And so this brings me to ghost. What do you know of such things? I wanted Glenn Owen, but he seems content to hide behind smoke and mirrors and not face me like I asked. Ah well, you will do I suppose. I do not know much about you Ghost, nor do I really care. You use the name of someone from long ago, and when I ask such questions I already know the answers. You are not the original ghost, not the one from folklore and legend. But maybe you use the mask you found as a way to pay tribute. But opening up past wounds is never the way.
Maybe you think you are honoring the dead. But the dead do not care about honor or such things.
So Ghost, I want you to go back to where you came from and stay there. Thats the most honorable thing you can do.
Fade to light
Exhale.
The year is 1854. My name is John. My parents were Gloria and Mitchell. My father was born in London and brought here with his great aunt. My mother was from mexico, their marriage was arranged by his great aunt, and it was a good match. They genuinely liked each other. And from there love grew. I was born soon after. My mother and father really couldnt communicate too well with each other. My mother only spoke spanish and my father spoke english, well really Irish, and thats a language all its own. (Its only funny if you’re Irish you will know what I mean.)
I am 9 years old at the time. I was home schooled for the most part by our neighors. The lady used to teach school back in the east. And when her and husband moved here she found herself with too much time, and so she gratiouisly offerred to teach me as well as her own daughter. My teachers name was Noelia, and her daughter was simply called Nella. She and I became fast friends, how could we not? We were the only kids within a 30 mile radius.
I would attend Noelias home school 3 times a week, Monday-Wednsdays. And on most Saturdays or Sundays we would visit them or they would visit us for the whole day and our familys would spend time together.
One particular warm september afternoon, Nella and I are playing hide and go seek. She decides to hide in the well but had forgotten it had rained hard the week before the well was no longer empty. As she crawled in she lost her footing and sank hard, I jumped in right after her. We were very far from our parents, they wouldnt hear us and wouldnt miss us for some time.
We huddled in the water together, shivvering, we were both afraid. She asked why I went in, I replied how could I not? She said she was afraid to die. I told her she would be ok. She asked how I was so sure? I said because I wouldnt allow it.
Nella blinked at me, she understood something, she always sort of understood how different I was. I was afraid but never the way small children were. When we played alone we often spoke about how nice it would be if we grew up and married each other. We spoke about how nice our house would be and what I would for work, how many kids we would have, we played make believe but a part of me wish it would come true one day.
Nella looked at my eyes and said “I secretly wished you would be my husband one day”.
And I said “So did I?”
I told her she needed to climb up on my shoulders and get out of the well. She asked what about me? But I didnt answer.
Before she did what I asked, she hovered close and kissed me on the lips, not as a child but as a girl who was saying goodbye to someone she loved and would miss. The kiss lasted but a moment and I remember now, even after all this time, somethings stay with you forever.
The last thing she said to me was that she would miss me. And it took forever for her to climb out and when she did and got our parents back it was too late for me. I was gone. It took a few lifetimes for me to remember that particular version of myself but when I did I was able to research that Nella became a school teacher but she never married, never had any children, she lived to be 102 years old. And I wanted to go see her before she passed on, at least to tell her that I was back and that I still had not forgotten her. But I didnt. I couldnt. I was a ghost to her, a faint but nice memory and I should never look back, that would be a disfavor to those left behind.
And so this brings me to ghost. What do you know of such things? I wanted Glenn Owen, but he seems content to hide behind smoke and mirrors and not face me like I asked. Ah well, you will do I suppose. I do not know much about you Ghost, nor do I really care. You use the name of someone from long ago, and when I ask such questions I already know the answers. You are not the original ghost, not the one from folklore and legend. But maybe you use the mask you found as a way to pay tribute. But opening up past wounds is never the way.
Maybe you think you are honoring the dead. But the dead do not care about honor or such things.
So Ghost, I want you to go back to where you came from and stay there. Thats the most honorable thing you can do.
Fade to light
