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