"If Only in My Dreams"
This was her favorite. Every year they saved it for last and placed it at the apex of the tree. Not a traditional star, but a glass blown dog -- long ears, comical Santa hat and sad-happy eyes. This year she’d go it alone. Uncle Sebastian was another casualty of the ubiquitous virus.
Sudden movement distracted her from her reminiscence. The ornament left her fingers and was guided to the treetop. In disbelief she stepped up, reached out for the floating dog, felt a warm touch. Her hand and one unseen were placing the ornament as they did every year.
"Mark Ye Well the Song We Sing"
So what if he couldn’t see the Christmas lights anymore. More like light pollution than Christmas spirit. Vision going, going, soon to be gone… But his hearing was sharp and keen as ever. Music saved him. The carolers were approaching. He opened the door to get the full effect. Hazy shapes, no faces discernible. But the sound, oh the sound. Harmony, melody, true song. He felt like inviting them in. Were they even clothed? They could do with a Irish coffee with plenty of whiskey. Sound faded, hazy visions melted like ice and not even a footprint was left behind.
Well done, J.F.
These are nicely poignant, John. I'm noticing that the stories this year seem more melancholic than outright terrifying. Perhaps that's the pandemic's work. We've had enough true horror of late.ReplyDelete
Those ghostly visitations are lovely :)ReplyDelete
That's how they get you of course: one moment you're sharing a moment of joy; the next you've started drinking flavoured coffees... with milk.