Haunting Tale (Closed 4 chris )

[DeliciousMaiden]

It had been so long; so long since anyone had come to the house.
There had been people of course… over the years … but they all left.
The last time … there had been a family … a couple … a child and a baby … and for a while things were good … but then …

She had watched as people came and went.
First one person, then two … until one day the house seemed to be invaded, though in truth only 4 men had entered the property.
And so she had retreated, the usual fear filling her as masculine footsteps sounded heavily on the solid wooden boards.
Watching from the shadows, she saw them enter her rooms, set down boxes a sure sign that the place was indeed to be inhabited again.
Yet no family came.

Male voices called out from room to room, banter, light-hearted … words she barely understood at times … and then they too left.
A heavy banging of doors heralded their exit … a departure that left but one set of footsteps … one person within the house.

 

[chris2c4u]

James Conrad stood in the hallway of his house. His house; the thought seemed odd somehow after months of living in flats since the divorce. He closed his eyes and concentrated on putting that behind him. This was his new life. A new start.

The house was in a corner of London that the developers hadn't discovered. It had sat on this lane for three hundred years, the estate agent had said. "Of course, it's been added to - changed quite a lot over the years but the deeds make interesting reading," she had said, already having discovered his interest in all things historical. That helped, for an antiques dealer.

He had wondered about trying out a line on her about coming round one evening to read them but didn't quite have the nerve. Yes, she'd been flirting with him but he wasn't sure if it was just good sales patter. Perhaps he should have known better; his tall frame, broad shoulders and dark hair - a little too long to be fashionable - along with his piercing blue eyes made him handsome. He'd traded on it often enough in his work, getting blue-rinsed widows to take a little less for the contents when they moved to a smaller house.

He walked about now the removal men had left and moved some of the furniture, mostly gathered from judicious buys at auctions, setting them how he wanted them. It would take time but this house felt right.

He walked around getting used to the place, investigating the nooks and crannies, moving towards the oldest part of the house. He would have to read those deeds - they could be interesting.

In ended up in what used to be the old kitchen. The windows there were small and the glass old. It distorted the view of grass and trees in the back garden. He was pleased no one had pulled them out for modern double glazing.

He flexed his shoulders involuntarily; as he looked out of the window there was a sudden chill in the air. He looked around - the door to the garden was a modern one and he didn't think a draught would have got in there. He turned around - nothing. He was all on his own.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

She watched as he stood in the hallway, her eyes taking in his appearance. She could not guess his age, but assumed he was somewhat older than her own one-and-twenty years. She was careful to stay at a safe distance until she could assess just how perceptive this man was. Would he even be aware of her presence, she mused, or would he like so many merely co-habit, sharing her space oblivious to the effect his actions had on her?

And so it was that she trailed him, following him at a distance, as he made a tour of the house. She noted with interest that he moved somewhat quickly through the more modern parts of the building. He could not know just what distress those alterations had caused her, how she had felt violated by what she saw as the unnecessary ransacking of her home. Her feelings had gone undetected, unheeded and it had been a relief when ownership had changed once more. Happier times had followed when a family took up residence, but again that was not to last and so the house had been empty ever since.

Aware that she had lingered too long, she moved quickly from room to room searching for him. Usually she would have taken time to examine the new objects that had been brought into the house, but this time she flitted throughout the upstairs, only to realise that he had returned to the ground floor once more.

In her haste to follow, she became careless, finding herself drawing to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the kitchen as she saw him stood but a few footsteps away from her.

She made not a sound and yet his eyes seemed drawn towards her as he turned their focus away from the glasswork and seemed to stare. Just as she began to question whether he actually had sight of her he turned his eyes to assess the external door.

She withdrew to watch from beyond the doorway, noting the tremor that had shaken his solid frame and saw how he searched for the cause.
He was sensitive to her presence she realised … and perhaps … even to the room in which he had chosen to linger.
It was uncanny how his head moved once more in her direction. At closer range, she found herself unnerved: Even though it could not be so, his eyes seemed all-seeing, an observation which both fascinated and frightened her.

Confused, she beat a hasty retreat, the fabric of her skirts making an audible rush of sound even as the rapid footfalls reached the ears of the man who still stood in the kitchen.

 

[chris2c4u]

The strange feeling of cold seemed to receed from James yet it was replaced with another sensation - a sound - fading footsteps? He shook his head and walked slowly back to the newer parts of the house when the doorbell rang.

"Hi Jim," said the man in the scruffy mac at the door. "Thought I'd come see how you were settling in."

Jim grinned at the older man who kept a rheumy gaze on him. Jim tilted his head in invitation. "Come in George - yes, I've even got some beer - I thought you might come round."

The older man had worked with Jim for a few years and had a knowledge of the half secret sales, of which stalls to investigate in the street markets and which were the best of the small shops tucked away in the villages that made him popular among the dealers. He enjoyed working with James and without telling him, admired James' ability to spot real from fake and his knowledge of collectables.

George made himself at home in front of the TV with a can of beer.

"Is wotshername coming round? Sal?" George grunted without taking his eyes off the TV and flipping channels.

"Sally? Probably, tomorrow I think. She had some ideas about putting a new bathroom in." Sally the auctioneer was the closest thing James had to a girlfriend. Mind you, there were several female auctioneers on the circuit he took round the small market towns of the south east...

James sat and as nothing took George's fancy on the TV he took to talking shop. "I heard on the grapevine of some nice Georgian silver over in Margate, might go take a look. Shall I pick you something up if I can get the price right?"

James nodded and George held out his hand. James walked to a nineteenth century bureau and took out an envelope. George - and many antique shops -preferred to work in cash.

"Ta," George said putting the envelope in his inside pocket. "You got any heating in this old barn? It's gone a bit cold, don't you think?"

James nodded to his friend and went to turn up a fire. The gas raised flames through artificial coals and James looked at the open doorway into the hall. He frowned and squeezed his eyes closed.

"George - "

His companion turned his head in the chair then walked over and looked down the hall.

"What's that?" James pointed towards where he seemed to see a tiny amount of light.

George craned his neck. "What's what?"

James shook his head. "Seeing things," he said half to himself.

"You want to take yourself off to bed, dream of Sal," said George. "I'll get off to Margate to get to the shop in the morning."

James laughed. "You just want to get into the B and B with the landlady whose husband is a travelling salesman.

George gave a wheezy laugh. "He's up north till Tuesday," he said as James opened the door for him. In the silence that followed his companion's departure, James yawned. George had been right - it had been a long day and his eyes were definitely playing tricks on him. He turned things off and headed for the room he'd chosen as his main bedroom.

Slowly he took off his clothes and headed for the shower. The warm water relaxed his as he soaped his body then dried off. The room, in contrast to downstairs felt inviting, warm. He slid into bed naked and turned on the TV but was soon asleep.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

She hastened to the hall pausing in confusion, only to start as the sound rung out from the doorway. Retreating to the shadows behind the banister she watched as the door was opened and a second, older man exchanged words and was shown into the house.

Silently she was tempted back, lurking as she watched the men retreat briefly into the kitchen then move to the parlour where they sat and talked unaware of her presence just within the doorway. Stood with her back pressed against the wall, she let the words of their conversation pass over her meaninglessly as she allowed her eyes to be dazzled by the dancing images on the box which now dominated the room. She had seen such oddities before and yet they still both fascinated and intimidated her. As ever she kept her distance from anything that seemed alien or threatening.

She started suddenly as the man she had trailed earlier stood and crossed her line of vision. Belatedly she cursed herself for not having paid attention to their conversation. She watched wide eyed as he opened up the bureau, an original piece of furniture that had once been in the other downstairs room, a room that had been both study and library to its owner. She watched as the envelope was proffered, her mouth falling open as memories forced their way into her consciousness.
She almost called out; almost moved towards the notes that were held out and yet she managed to restrict herself to the smallest step towards the door, where she froze watching as the second man pocketed the offered object.

"Ta, … You got any heating in this old barn? It's gone a bit cold, don't you think?"

She watched as he moved towards the wall, turning a switch to make the flames grow in size. As her eyes left the increased blaze, his eyes seemed to do the same. For the briefest moment their gaze seemed to lock. A connection that was unintentional and gave her a jolt of surprise as a spark seemed to jump between them until panicked, she slid beyond the doorway out of sight.

"George - What's that? …Seeing things,"

She listened in relief as he dismissed the message of his own senses. She remained there, pressed against the wall that linked parlour to kitchen, listening more intently as the men exchanged their banter and stood immobile as the door was finally opened and closed to let the stranger out once more.

Again the room was silent.
She watched noticing how weary he was.
She stayed mute as he walked past her to the kitchen, then past her again into the Parlour turning things off as he moved slowly.
His steps were slow as he dragged himself upstairs, waiting until he was at the top of the stairs and until the downstairs was in total darkness before making her way slowly upwards. For minutes she stood at the top of the stairs, watching as he moved to the front of the house.
She sighed as he entered the Master bedroom, moving between that and the adjacent bathroom.

She would not venture there.

She dragged her wistful gaze away from the closed door.
The house was inhabited again and yet she felt lonely …
It didn’t make sense.
Perhaps it was the way he had been aware of her presence … aware in some inexplicable way that she herself had not willed.
That had not happened before. She was intrigued and apprehensive.
What was it about him?
She was unsure of his age, yet she felt he was not old enough to fear and not young enough to …

She shut down her thoughts, not letting her mind go there.
Instead she retreated, her footfalls light upon the landing as she headed in the opposite direction, on to the back of the house, on to the old oaken door, to the room that was so full of boxes and old furniture that it had gone almost unnoticed upon the agents’ details.
And yet the jumbled state of the little box room mattered little to her.
The clutter of Victorian memorabilia was a source of security.
This was her only haven, the only safe place both then and since …

 

[chris2c4u]

James slept well apart from waking in the middle of the night to turn the TV off. He pottered in the kitchen making breakfast when the telephone rang; it was Sally, saying she couldn't make it round that day she had to go and do a valuation.

"Shame," James said, "I've got this big bed..."

Sally laughed. "Call me in a day or two - or drop in the auction rooms, we've a sale coming up of -"

"Japanese porcelain," James finished off the sentence for her, "Yes, I'll have a look around."

After he put the phone down he "Hmm'd" to himself, changing his plans and shelving his horniness with an inward sigh.

Most of the house was already in good order, though he did remember the small storeroom - he thought it might be worth investigating for bric-a-brac. He'd bought the house contents and all and had already made some of his money back selling on the furniture and collectables that had been squirreled away by people over the years the house had been lived in.

He walked down the corridor that, he noted again, smelt of damp and opened the door; the hinges were stiff and he had to push against it. Once inside the light was filtered by a yellowing net curtain and dust on the panes. He leached around for a light swith and turned it on. The small bulb sent enfeebled beams over a collection of trunks and boxes in disorder on the uncarpeted floorboards.

He walked in with the unsettling that that this room still belonging to someone else - to somewhen else. He picked up an old square tin that used to contain cream crackers long ago and found a collection of toy cars from the 1950's - without their original boxes, unfortunately, he thought.

He walked to the far corner of the room in which stood a large chest. It was certainly old, made of wood with heavy metal banding and a lock. Someone meant to keep something secure in it. He studied the old lock and tried to lift the lid. It was still fastened, still keeping it's secret. For the time being he left it - the box alone was worth something.

He sighed; he wasn't really in the mood to go through these things now. He frowned at a feeling he had, a feeling that he shouldn't go through them now - as if they didn't want him there. He grinned to himself as he turned off the light and closed the door. He'd have to host a murder mystery weekend - the place was certainly spooky enough.

Walking back to the main room he went to the bureau that he had gived George his money from the previous night and opened it, looking for the sale room catalogues he had placed there, deciding that he might as well get on with some work. As he reached into the recess he had placed them his winced.

"Ouch!" He withdrew his had and saw a scratch, which he sucked. He also looked down to the base of the small drawers that were in the centre of the bureau. A secret drawer had opened.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

The blare of electric light suddenly filling the gloom seemed to switch on her own panic button as she watched helpless to stop the invasion of her sanctuary.

She had not pursued him that morning.
She did not know what was going on, could not imagine just how things were going to work with the new occupier. Somehow she feared the connection he seemed to be making, all-be-it unconsciously, with her.
There was something about him … something that reached out in some way … something she could not allow to happen.
And so she had chosen retreat. To her, distance meant safety.

She had not bargained on him coming in pursuit of her.

At least that is what she’d thought as the hinges had creaked and been forced to give entry. It was only seconds however before she realised that it was the contents in the room rather than any affinity to her that had drawn him there. His eyes seemed to move everywhere, everywhere but towards her.

And so … she drew back and watched: watched him root through the items in the room, her room.
She had been so wrong. He was like so many, like those she had known all those years ago...

She froze, past and present seeming to merge.

He had no right … just because he owned the house the land … it didn’t mean he could just …

She blinked forcing herself to focus once more on the events going on around her. Her eyes widened in recognition she looked at the heavy chest even as he knelt down to try the lock.


… no …

The word was unspoken, yet seemed to hang in the air between them.
The atmosphere chilled as he continued to examine his discovery.
Her anger turned to a heavy resentment that was almost tangible: The other objects he had rifled through had been modern and alien to her, yet this …

With all her strength she willed him to go, to leave: not only the room, but her house.

Now even more so than before, she saw him as a threat.
Without realising it he was disturbing the past, opening up wounds that had lain dormant for years. The house had had its share of changes, but add-ons and instalments she could cope with.
What if he began to take her past apart piece by piece, destroying what had been beyond any recognition?
Then what …?

Only as the light was extinguished, did she realise that he had in fact retreated without forcing the chest open. For seconds she stared at the closed door then turned to follow along the landing and down the stairway, confident now that he would be unaware of her.
It couldn’t be the force of her emotion that kept him from doing what he had seemed so intent on could it?
Her mind raced as she watched him enter the parlour once more. The sight of him at the bureau once more brought back the interaction between the two men the night before, the exchange of money …
Again all she could feel was that he had no right; no right to be there, no right to … to make her feel like this.
He wasn’t responsible for the past … she knew that deep down and yet …

She was as shocked as he was when the lever sprung up to cut his skin deeply enough to draw blood.
Her gasp was thankfully masked by his own exclamation.
She stood transfixed as he sucked his hand.
Surely she hadn’t caused that? She hadn’t deliberately willed it to happen. She had just been thinking …

Belatedly she realised that his eyes had widened and he had drawn closer, no doubt eager to see just what was hidden within the secret compartment.
It had been so long. The catch was so intricate.
He must have touched it by mistake, without realising what it was.

To her knowledge no one had discovered the secret lever since …
The letter … she could not let him see it.
She had felt violated enough that morning.

” … nooo … “

Her reaction was instinctive, a desperate attempt to maintain her privacy and yet when the catch clicked and the compartment slid tightly shut she stood stunned.
It could be no mere coincidence.
In all those cases that which she had willed to happen actually had!

She glanced across guiltily realising that it was her fault, no matter how intentioned that he had hurt his hand only to realise that his face too held an expression of bewilderment.

It was only then she realised that he must have heard her, heard her cry just before the recess closed and sealed.

 

[chris2c4u]

Montgomery's auction rooms were a tall brick building that also doubled as a depository, a storage place for the clutter people couldn't keep at home but couldn't throw away. Sally had taken him around one evening and they had quite improperly opened some of the crates and cartons. They weren't going to steal anything - they both were simply intrigued at the pieces of people's lives that were left here and through seeing the contents of the boxes made guesses at the lives behind them.

James walked through the auction, eyeing casually the porcelain marked up ready to be sold. He waved at Winston in his brown overall, his Rastafarian hair bundled inside the rainbow coloured hat as he carried a picture away that had been sold. Several porcelain collectors walked around and some nodded to him, some asking him which he felt were the best pieces. They knew he wasn't an expert on it - but they also knew his feelings could be uncannilly accurate.

He smiled as he saw Sally off in the distance in her pale blue skirt and matching jacket, already working the growing crowd gathering for the sale. He ambled closer until she noticed him and grinned, pushing back her blond hair from her face. They didn't kiss - neither thought it best to advertise too widely how close they were - but in the guise of antiques small talk made plans for dinner that evening at his house.

"Still uncovering goodies in there to make you rich?" Sally inclined her head and held her clipboard against her crisp white shirt, pressing on her breasts and enhancing her cleavage.

He grinned and then a dark shadow passed across his face.

"What's up? Seen a ghost?" Sally smiled.

James recalled the strange affair of the bureau, the secret drawer with what he seemed to think was an even more elaborate mechanism, which had opened and closed.

"When I tried to open it again..." he shrugged. He didn't mention the strange feeling, the resistance that seemed to make the air shimmer, that seemed to make a voice ring in his ear..."nooo..."

"Good, something to play with tonight," she said in a low voice. He shook his head biting back any suggestive repartee, as she knew he had to.

"I'll just go get a sandwich and be back for the...." His voice trailed off and his eyes looked past Sally's right shoulder. She turned around and looked trying to follow his gaze but got no clue so looked back with a question on her face. He walked past her and knelt in a corner of the room that held some items not in the sale that day.

The chest was of a dark wood, banded with old iron and a lock...

He looked around at Sally. "Is there a key?"

She frowned but went along with him, looking behind the chest for a plastic bag tied to it in which the large old key was kept.

"Think I could borrow it? Tonight we might get another chance to have a look at someone's old clutter." He explained the similar chest in his house and she smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "See you tonight," she said.

****

Sally sighed contendedly and pushed herself back from the dining table. James was a good cook, she told herself as he poured the last of the Burgundy into her glass and let a finger trail down the back of her neck to her shoulder.

"You spoil me," she said, "it's why I keep you."

He pinched her shoulder and she squeaked a mock protest. The eveing had gone well; they were both relaxed, dressed casually, they had kissed and cooked and eaten, they had played with the bureau with no luck and now looked forward to going to bed together to spend several hours in slow lovemaking. But before that...

They walked towards the storeroom together and despite the central heating there was a distinct feeling of a chill as they opened the complaining door. The lightbulb's light seemed to bleed into the walls, leaving a sepia sheen to the contents of the room. They walked over to the chest and James squatted down and tried the key. At first it didn't seem to fit but after a few twists and turns it entered the old lock.

"Ah!" He grunted. "Not a complicated lock, just one they knocked out as standard." With a final turn the complaining bolts opened. He reached out and pushed the heavy lid open.

There was a musty smell that greeted them and the sight of several layers of clothes of an indeterminate age.

"There's a market for this stuff," Sally said and James knew; period clothing was collectable. But what period? And what clothing?

Sally reached inside and lifted out the white calico - some sort of woman's undergarment. Whe grinned and stood up and held it against her waist.

"Maybe I should wear it tonight, you could ravish the serving girl, sir?"

James stood up and grinned ready to take on the fantasy but blinked and rubbed his temples, shaking his head almost involuntarily. He looked at Sally then back in the chest.

He knelt again and pulled out another piece of women's clothing, a chemise. Unlike the underskirt this one was stained. He held it up, looking at the dark brown stain at the small tears in the fabric.

"Not worth much," said Sally. "Probably stained with the iron off the banding of the trunk. Wonder if the other stuff's spoilt?"

James continued to hold the garment to the light. Iron stain.

Blood stain?

He dropped the clothing into the chest and drew a ragged breath, pulling Sally into his arms, holding her warm body close. She kissed his neck and he ran his hands over her back.

"Let's leave this for now," he said and he felt her chuckle with what she thought he wanted - what he did want, her body, their sex. Also - to get away from the trunk, from a life long ago that was part of this house and now was a jig saw to be reassembled.

They held hands as they turned out the light and headed back along the corridor. Back from the past, he thought to himself, a past that there to be discovered yet was shading itself in mystery, a past he could almost feel and hear and see. He turned and looked at the closed door of the storeroom before slipping his hand round Sally's waist and kissing her as they walked towards his bedroom.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

The atmosphere was heavy in the house the following morning.
For her part, she wandered aimlessly, a path that led again and again back to the bureau, back to the events of the night before.
So distracted was she that she barely noticed that he was going out, did not realize until the heavy door swung shut with a thud.
She exhaled a sigh and drifted back to the chill of the kitchen, hovering before turning and inevitably entering the room which held the bureau.
Slowly her hand moved over the surface, her finger tips tracing the outline of the grain. Deftly fingers worked to open the drawer, the spring releasing easily. Dipping her hand into the opening she withdrew the letter, easing the fragile paper open her eyes scanning it anew.

Again, as long ago, the letters danced before her eyes, eyes that filled with tears the grief remembered, yet no less painful after all those years.
She had let it go … or so she thought … it could not be undone and yet …
Yet this man seemed to have reawakened … so much ….
Once more the missive was returned, the letter laid loosely, not returned to the envelope as the panel was slipped shut once more.


Her place was not in the present, her time was past.
Perhaps like once before, it was time to retreat, to wait for the time to be right for her to walk once more?
It was for this reason that she retreated again, that Sally saw no evidence of her presence … until they decided to break into her room, her chest.


"Ah! Not a complicated lock, just one they knocked out as standard."

His derogatory tone chilled her. She watched him with the woman. He seemed so much more … out of tune with what was around him with her present.

"There's a market for this stuff…"

Monetary value … that is all she saw.
She had known people like this woman, known all too many.

"Maybe I should wear it tonight, you could ravish the serving girl, sir?"

The jovial banter stung in her ears.
She watched bitterness palpable now as the girl made fun of something she could know nothing about.

"Not worth much. Probably stained with the iron off the banding of the trunk. Wonder if the other stuff's spoilt?"

The voice went on … mocking … mocking … what she had been … what her fate had been …
So fixated on her growing hatred was she that she ignored him.
He was guilty by association, for bringing this heartless creature into her house.

She watched as they embraced. She watched as they left the room unaware of what they had unleashed.
Silently she followed them down the corridor watching their intimacy, listening to the shared endearments.
Anger replaced sorrow as they casually fell upon each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just what it was that drew his eyes upwards, James never knew, but as he lifted his head his eyes met the dark accusing ones from the young girl who stood and watched.
Her figure was indistinct, white yet translucent, but her face, her expression, the accusation, the anger and the almost hidden grief reached out to him.

” .. fire … “

The softly spoken warning was for his ears only.

Without another word, she turned and drifted leading him to the kitchen, leading him to the play of newly ignited flames.
If he chose to follow, if he chose to heed her all would be well ….
If not ….

The … accident … could be put down to carelessness … a candle left burning … fallen upon a cloth … a hazard of romantic meals ….
Yet more apt as a warning than a real attempt at arson …

 

[chris2c4u]

Sally and James had lain on the bed together side by side, slowly losing their clothes as their hands slid over each other, as they kissed long, deep kisses. Slowly Sally urged him onto his back her nails running down his torso as she unbuttoned his shirt.

James smiled as her mouth trailed down his throat and he half opened his eyes and drew in a breath with a start.

"Sorry," Sally murmured thinking she had nipped him and licked the spot she'd reached on his chest. James swalowed and tried to focus, shaking his head. The gleam in the air - a sudden feeling that eyes were on his body then...

” .. fire … “

The softly spoken warning was for his ears only.

Gently he lifted Sally who looked confused.

"Something - fire - need to check something..." James stood and padded out of the room not bothering with shoes and there he could smell smoke. He called Sally to come out quickly and began to run to the source of the smell.

He got there and blew out his cheeks in thanks. The candle that had fallen had only burnt a napkin; he quickly managed to put out the small blaze. Sally stood in the doorway and grinned at him. "You must have a good nose," she said, "smelling the smoke."

He nodded, not telling her about the word. "Fire." He could still hear the voice - the woman's voice. How? And surely they had checked the candles were out?

Sally helped him clear up and then came and put her arms around his neck. "My hunky fireman," she purred as James flicked off the light and they returned to the bedroom.

****

"How much?" James spoke to George who had come across some Georgian silver on his travels. "Well, try and get the price down a bit and get it back here and we'll sell it on. There's a silver sale in London in a couple of weeks." James laughed as George told him about his nights with his favourite landlady.

Sally had left early that morning and James was left alone in the house. He logged on to the net and checked out some of the online sales catalogues but his mind kept coming back to the voice in his head, to the word and the indistinct lights he had seen now more than once, seeming to hover before his eyes. He frowned to himself and walked to the bureau, lowering the front and looking at the central set of drawers. He careful touched the polished wood until - there!

The spring again opened the secret drawer and James blinked. The letter was out of the envelope and he reached inside to pick it up, his heart beating a little faster. He looked at the faded letter with its rapid scrawl of handwriting and began trying to deciper it until he had another idea.

He was one of those people attuned to antiques, one of those who could tell real from fake even when experts disagreed. He could also sense their owners, sometimes, their feelings echoing down the intervening years. Now, he had that feeling as he held the letter. He felt a sadness come over him and he looked again at the old paper in his hands; as his eye became used to its texture and its slightly yellow look he wondered if the marks on it were tearstains.

He lifted his eyes and looked at the doorway and waited.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

The fire had been easily extinguished.
It had drawn him away from the woman, but not for long ….

She retreated as the two once more disappeared into the bedroom.
Her hatred of the woman was palpable, but the two were beyond sensing her anger and misery.
And so she left them taking refuge in the room she considered had been violated by their presence, clinging onto the solitude until that too was sold out from beneath her …

Just what it as that drew her out of that sanctuary she did not know.
Something … something was amiss in the house …
Swiftly she moved along the corridor, down the stairs seeking him out.
Seeking out the man who had already caused such disturbance around her.
She stood frozen at the doorway as she watched James move deftly to release the drawer.

…. Nooo …

The cry was locked in her throat this time.
The little drawer of the bureau had been coaxed open and James stood with that letter, her letter in his hand about to open it.
She would not stay to watch, not stay to be forced to remember, remember the terrible mistake she had made …
And yet … as he hesitated she found herself stepping forward, moving towards him.

She watched as he held the delicate paper,
as he looked at the fragile parchment between his fingers …
She had the strangest feeling that he knew … but that was impossible...
If he had known about her surely he would not have behaved the way he had the evening before when he had examined that chest?
She could not imagine any of the things of the house holding any value for anyone outside the house and yet they were so precious to her ...

Her eyes lifted meeting his as he turned his gaze towards the doorway.
Again he seemed to stare directly at her.
She felt so helpless.
The eyes that met his were smokey orbs full of hurt and accusation.

”That’s mine … “

The words left her before she was aware that she had spoken them.
The soft voice was hoarse with emotion, but was clearly audible in the silent house.
Her form taking shape and standing out clearly as she addressed him.

".... that's mine ... "

She repeated, slowly extending her hand holding it out as if expecting James to give her the letter.
Her hostile gaze captured his as the angry young girl faced him, her slight figure illuminated by the late afternoon sun...

 

[chris2c4u]

He drew a breath and stared at the doorway. The figure was indistinct against the sun though he felt sure it was a woman that he saw. He felt strangely calm; all his life he had spent drifting in and out of the past, in and out of the life of today to feel the echoes of those who had gne before. Sometimes those echoes were faint, sometimes - like now - they were stronger.

She seemed to meet his eyes her mouth moved as she tried to speak.

"That’s mine …" Did he hear it? Or was it just a thought running through his mind?

".... that's mine ... " He frowned, meeting the place eyes would be in the indistinct face but suddenly seeing dark orbs, and an anger he wasn't able to plumb the depth of.

"I - don't understand," he said not knowing if she would hear him either. She reached out for the paper in his hand and with a glance at it hed it out. There was a swirl of white, like a cotton or linen dress and then delicate fingers seemed to form from a mist. The letter was taken from his grasp.

Was that all she wanted? "Wait," he said and concentrated on the shifting space that occasionally became her face. Eyes seemed again to glance at him - what were they trying to say? She seemed defiant yet vulnerable and resigned.

"The letter - can I help you with it? What does it say? Can you speak?"

He felt no great threat from her, no fear at this apparition's apparent anger, just the feeling that he wanted to help, to know. He moved slowly and suddenly made himself smile - he was moving carefully so as not to scare a ghost! He sat on the sofa and left a space for her, inviting her to sit with him. Somehow her shimmering form seemed to take on more substance and he was sure now it was a young woman, not a youth. There was a clear outline of a dress and perhaps some outerwear to.

"Will you - sit?" he asked the figure, intrigued and needing to find out her story.