Photo Finish - A Ghost Story

 

Created in Ai by Helen

“Who is she?” Filomena, or Filly as she liked to call herself, stared at the photograph.
“Ah, who  is she? That is indeed the question.” The old man looked over the top of his half moon glasses at the young woman.
“You don’t know?” Filly looked at him. “It must be old. Isn’t that a steam train she’s standing beside?” She stared at the image. The woman, dressed in a long skirt with overlaying jacket, belt, kid gloves and a hat tilted to one side, adorned with a flourish of feathers, stood on a platform with the train beside her. Her eyes stared out at Filly. There was something about them, she could feel it in her bones. A chill ran through her and she shivered. The old man’s voice snatched her away from her thoughts.
“It is,” he said. “The date is in the corner, look.”
“Oh, October 31st 1914.”
“Do you want to buy it?”
Filly put it down. “I’ll just browse some more thanks.”
“You do that.” He smiled and returned to the counter.
 Filly had noticed the shop when she walked down a side turning, as a short cut to the town.  At first she had hurried by it, but something made her double back and peep in the window. Before she knew it, her hand was on the door and the bell above jangled as she entered.
She walked in-between the tables that were scattered with objects one on top of the other. Now and again she stopped to pick up something and examine it, but her thoughts were on the photograph. She could feel the woman’s eyes in the image following her and her heart raced. I should leave, she thought. She took a deep breath and headed towards the door, but as she reached the table where the picture stood she came to a halt. Her hand, as though it had a life of its own, reached out for it and she was once more gazing into the eyes of the woman.
“You’ve decided to take it?” The old man’s voice broke the silence.
“Sorry?”
“The photograph. You’ll take it?”
She found herself nodding, even though she wanted to scream no. 
“Come, I'll wrap it for you.” He waved her to him. She watched as he laid it down on the layers of paper. “Sometimes these things are just waiting for the right person to come along.” His eyes glittered as he handed it back to her.
* * *
Why did I buy this? 
Her fingers clasped the frame as she hurried back home. She wanted to drop it in the nearest waste bin, but when she tried to, she just couldn’t let go. At home she didn’t even unwrap it, she just shoved it into the back of the drawer of her writing desk. Several days passed and she finally forgot about it.
At 2am on 31st October, she woke to the sound of the rhythmic hissing of a stream train slowing down, the rumble of the wheels growing softer and softer.  She sat bolt upright, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the dark. The atmosphere felt icy and she pulled the covers up around her shoulders. Her breath, a smoky cloud, billowed out and hung in the air.
Is this a dream? If it is, it’s bloody real. 
She shivered as the temperature dropped another degree. Her breath swirled in front of her and she reached out to touch it but as she did, the shrill of a whistle filled her ears followed by the clackety clack of wheels on a track. Filly buried herself beneath the covers and listened until the sounds faded away.
 Eventually she fell asleep until her alarm woke her at 9am. “That was a weird dream last night.”  She pulled on her dressing gown and left her room to head to the kitchen. As she passed through the lounge she saw the photograph standing on top of her desk.
“What the? I don’t remember taking that out.” 
She picked it up. The woman in the picture stared at her. Her eyes held a sadness, something Filly hadn’t seen the first time she had looked at it.
 “Who are you?” she whispered. 
She felt the merest touch on her cheek and she swung around. But no one was there. She placed the frame back on the desk and went and made  some coffee.
She tried to distract herself by doing some retail therapy,  but all through the day she thought about the photograph and the fear it conjured within her. 
Why am I afraid of it? 
She had no idea. One thing she felt sure of, was that the woman had a story and maybe she would be able to find out about her. She decided tomorrow she would do some research. Having made her mind up to resolve this mystery, she felt more settled.
The evening passed quickly, a few of the neighbourhood children rang her bell and chimed trick or treat. She smiled at their costumes and handed out sweets to each of them.Then she watched an old movie and fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow on her bed.
The hoot of the whistle and the clackety clack of the wheels against the metal woke her with a start. Her heart beat so fast she thought it would explode. The covers of her bed fluttered and the temperature plummeted. Her breath came in short bursts and hung like a thick fog before her. The screech of breaks and the hiss of steam filled her bedroom as the front of the train appeared through her wall. 
“Oh my god!” 
Filly watched as the train drew to a halt. The door from one carriage opened and the woman stepped down. She reached out a hand towards her. Her face gave away nothing but her eyes, her eyes said it all. They were filled with a loneliness.
Filly, shaking, got up, grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on as she approached the woman. She reached for her hand, and just for a brief second she felt the coldness of her flesh before her own hand passed straight through that of the woman. The woman turned and climbed aboard. She glanced over her shoulder and Filly knew that she would follow.
* * *
One Year Later....
The bell jangled as Sandy stepped inside. A shaft of light shone through the window and dust motes floated like a thousand pieces of glitter thrown carelessly  into the air. She wandered around the dusty room laden with objects, until one caught her eye. She picked up a frame containing a photograph of two women with a steam train standing behind them. The older one was smiling, the younger looked lost.
"I wonder who they are?" 
"Ah, who are they? That is indeed the question." The old man looked over the top of his half moon glasses at the young woman and smiled. "Do you want to buy it?"

©Helen A. Howell

Stories Inspired by an Image. The Tight-Rope Spectacular.

 

Image created in Ai Bing by Helen 

This is a story about one little mouses dream, and I will tell you it as it was told to me by my grandmother and her grandmother before her. Mice love to keep stories alive. So here is the one about Nobby.

 

Nobby Mouse had always dreampt of being a tight-rope walker ever since his first trip to the mouse circus. He kept this dream alive in his head and one day when he was not a baby any more he said to his mother.

"Mother, I want to join the Circus."

His mother, being a sensible mouse, replied, "Nobby, don't be ridiculous, you need to find yourself a job that will support you and any family in the future you might have."

Nobby did eventually find a job in the cheese distribution factory, but he never let his dream die. In his spare moments he would practice with whatever he could find. However the best tight-rope he could find was his mother's washing line. So, when she was not using it, he crept into the garden and stole away with it.

"Nobby, have you seen my washing line? It seems to have disappeared."

"No, mother. Perhaps the Badgers stole it."

"Why would they want my washing line," she said shaking her head.

"Perhaps they didn't have one of their own, you know to hang their smalls out to dry."

"This is all very upsetting, now I will have to get another." Mrs. Mouse busied herself with her home duties, all the time muttering to herself about the line. Nobby pretended not to hear.

 

Now whenever Nobby had a chance, he would sneak away into the woods to the trees he had tied the washing line to and practiced his walking upon it. As time went by he became more proficient at it, enough to have the confidence to advertise his debut event. He designed a poster on which the words were written,(in very scrawly mouse writing,)

At two in the afternoon tomorrow, (his shift at the Cheese centre finished at one,) Nobby the Wonder, Will perform for your delight the daring act of Tight-Rope Walking. At the Clearing in the Wood. Be There or Be Square!

He fastened these notices to the trees through the wood.

 

The Time arrived and Nobby waited at the clearing. Slowly his audience started to appear. They sat beneath the washing line tight-rope and gazed upwards expectantly.

Nobby opened the little umbrella he held in his hand and climbed up onto the tight-rope. Not a sound could be heard as the audience held its breath while Nobby took his first step along the rope. Everything was going smoothly until he reached the middle, then he placed his foot at the wrong angle and for a long moment wobbled back and forth. The crowd let out a gasp in unison and one or two even covered their eyes. When they uncovered them again, Nobby had regained his balance and finished the walk to the end of the rope, where upon he jumped down and took a bow. 

 

The audience clapped and cheered, as he bowed again. When he came out of his bow and looked over to the side, he saw his mother standing there with her hands on her hips.

"So that's where my washing line got to. Come here, I'll give you tight-rope walking." Her cheeks were puffed up and her face red. The audience gasped again as they look back and forth from Nobby to his mother.

"Not likely, Mum," shouted Nobby, "I'm off to join the Circus."

He dashed off and all that could be seen was a cloud of dust in his wake.

 

I wonder if he is now performing in a silver suit on a high wire to the appreciation of the crowds. I guess we'll never know.