Tuesday, 1 November 2016

Post Mortem Aspiration.

This is the ghost I intend to be when the final curtain inevitably falls.

I will be forever the kind, gentle and helpful friend to every child, but to others…

The others...

I will haunt the lanes and byways of the Shire, being glimpsed first here and then there, but only briefly. My tread shall be light, but not so light that the lone walker will fail to hear the footstep as close behind it falls. The dogs and horses will know me, of course, and they will not be afraid.

I will sing sad songs beneath the windows of the sleeping in the early hours of cold winter mornings.

I will cast the shadow of my unseen form across their eyes on bright summer afternoons.

I will caress the napes of their necks with the chill breath of my spectral presence.

I will show brief flashes of my red habit through the half open doors of those who are home alone.

I will howl in their chimneys when the wind is still, and chuckle in the corner when their lights are low.

I will take their hand gently as they drift towards sleep at night, and clatter noisily down the stairs upon their waking in the morning.

I will sit unseen at their breakfast tables, curdling their eggs and crushing their cornflakes and leaving three drops of milk on the surface. Just three…

And none shall escape my attention, save those who live by Shakespeare’s dictum:

Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness.

*  *  *

Well now, that passed an amusing half hour. And I wasn’t entirely joking.


Della said...

This is so wonderful.

JJ Beazley said...

Really? OK, I'll start with you.

I will find you, Ms Marinis.

Only kidding. This is actually the sort of post that I most like writing. They rattle off the keyboard with very little thought and require hardly any editing, so they're like stream of consciousness only more transparent. Sadly, there are too few of them because they slip out of the mouth of a mood that only surfaces briefly and infrequently. And if don't catch them immediately, they're gone forever.

And dare I admit that there was a veiled message in there to somebody who DOES occasionally read this blog.

And it's really nice to hear from you, Della. I hope that life is proceeding with purpose, that the kids are taking tertiary education in their stride, and that you are still labouring on your magnum opus.

Della said...

It brings to mind your impressive knack for short stories. I know that feeling of just letting go of thoughts but I rarely can achieve something with so much pointed grace. Congratulations to the (I presume) trolling bully who inspired it, haha ;)! Yes, things are going well here, still chipping away at the magnum opus--at least now I have more time to devote to it with an empty nest (well, save for the cat & dog). Kids happy as well in their studies, it feels right. I hope you're faring well too, and that we all survive this dreadful American election, somehow.

JJ Beazley said...

'Twas not the trolling bully who inspired it, Della, but rather a lady who pricked my heart with a poisoned thorn when she changed wavelengths and put both emotional and physical space between us. There's something I need to tell her before I die, or a haunting might be called for. (In her case, though, it would be a very gentle haunting. I might need a Whoopee Goldberg.)

As for the election, I do seriously wonder what effect a Trump victory would have on America. I've a feeling you're well out of there.