This piece furthers a story I wrote
last week. You can read about it here.
Charlotte moved up
the staircase towards the sound of music. Her attorney thought the
talk of ghosts was nonsense, but it didn't take a medium to feel the
energy in the old place. She sat down on the top step, closed her
eyes, and focused. The saxophone music grew clearer and was joined by
a bass, piano, and drums. The smells of mildew and decay were
replaced with smells of lilies, gin, and cigarette smoke. Charlotte
could feel the past becoming present.
She turned at the
sound of footsteps and saw a bride in white satin walking toward her.
Her face was flushed with anger.
“Clara wait!”
called a man in a dinner jacket.
“How could you?
It's our wedding day. You couldn't even be faithful for the first
day.”
“It isn't what
you think Sweetheart. I swear.”
“I know what I
saw Freddie. You kissed her.”
“She's an old
friend.”
“It was more than
I friendly kiss Freddie. There's lipstick on your face and it isn't
my shade.”
She turned to go
and he grabbed her arm.
“Clara I love
you.”
“Let me go
Freddie. This was a mistake. I should have listened to Daddy.”
“You don't mean
that,” he said, still holding on to her arm.
“Freddie you
kissed another woman on our wedding night. Now let me go!”
Clara pulled her
arm out of his grip and lost her balance. She teetered on the edge of
the top step and Freddie tried to catch her. Together they tumbled
down the marble staircase. At the bottom, their necks were bent at
the same unnatural angle. The angry color gone from her face.
Charlotte sensed
another presence. At the top of the stairs stood a woman Charlotte
had only seen in aging photographs. The owner of the hotel,
Charlotte's great, great, aunt surveyed the grisly scene, heartbreak
etched on her face.
I'm linking up
with the Trifecta Challenge. Our task is to write a piece 33-333
words long inspired by the third definition of the word color.
3: complexion tint:
3: complexion tint:
Ouch. Wonderful story, and such a bitter history. It's pleasantly refreshing to see tragedy play out so well :D
ReplyDeleteAh, the old woman in white ghost story (: This place seems bursting with spooks!
ReplyDeleteSo was her aunt the 'other woman'? I didn't expect them both to die. That was a nice twist (probably not the best choice of words given the angle of their necks :))
ReplyDeleteHeartbreaking indeed. Nice story.
ReplyDeleteThat's so tragic!Poor Charlotte having to "see"this!How little it takes to break a trust & sometimes even death doesn't help-wonder how her great,great aunt must have lived with that memory!Good job:-)
ReplyDeleteWhat a way to go, and on a wedding day no less. The old aunt has me intrigued.
ReplyDeleteThanks for linking up!
How ghosts are made... or ghost matriarchies!
ReplyDeleteTragic ghosts, yours. (Popping over from Trifecta)
ReplyDeleteOooh, you let them both die! Upping the haunting ante, as it were. I love the image of the aunt at the top of the stairs.
ReplyDelete