Rambling wraith

The shroud of mist lifted halfheartedly and the house, reluctant to reveal itself, appeared in patches of brown and dark green, till finally it stood, mute, glowering down at the intrusion.

I looked up at the sheer, imposing walls and breathed in the magnificent splendour of it all. Fell in love with it, again. I walked in, and the heavy old door closed shut behind. It was now me, the house and…


I rose when she entered. She brought the fresh air from outdoors. Panting a little from the exertion of her walk, she halted in front of the window and stood by me, watching the others play outside. I leaned forward to whisper, but she moved abruptly and walked into the adjoining room that led to the kitchen.

A cool draught of wind ruffled the hair on my neck and I shivered. It was warm in the house but the area by the window was cold. It must be these old houses. Unseen gaps in the woodwork of the window frame and air gushes in, even when it is not wanted. I moved away from the window and walked into another room. The kitchen faced the back yard and had a beautiful latticed screen separating it from the trees outside. The branches swayed and cast shadows on the wall. Beautiful. This house had a soul. I could feel the connection, again.

She stood fascinated, looking at the screen and the trees beyond. She whirled around to look at the walls. I glided there and she saw me, the shadows dancing around me, and smiled. I smiled back. I liked her, it was wonderful, again.

I took my time. It was as if the house spoke to me. I could feel a sense of belonging, a sense of calm as Β if I were home again. Something that I had never felt all these years. I touched the old, old pictures on the wall, straightened my favourite one.

I waited. I gave her, her little moments. She smiled, looked wistfully at the old photographs on the wall, she appeared fascinated by one. I leaned over for a closer look.Β Ah, she had taste, it was my favourite one as well. I followed her, my skirts swishing ever so lightly, the rustle of my silk matching her step, as we ascended the staircase leading to the bedrooms. She stepped in, closed the door. Closed doors weren’t a great barrier.

I loved this room. It was exactly as I had left it. Years ago.

She really loved this room. I could see that.

I stood by the ornate mirror and gazed at my reflection. I looked so young, so alive, if I could say that, unlike what I had glimpsed in the morning. I needed to get out more often.

She lay on the bed and closed her eyes. I walked over and smoothed a stray curl. She stirred and I moved away. I caught myself looking at my reflection in the mirror. Right! I did look younger. I had looked drawn, haggard and pale this morning. I was right. I needed to get out more often. I needed to feel alive.

I walked over to my self and merged my consciousness with her dreams.


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