Chapter One, Episode 53 - Ownership - Situationally Theirs

June 28, 2020

Review, Edit and Update:

For clarity's sake only one sentence was altered in structure not in wording. Practice does get one closer to perfect! 

Dez is very thoughtful in this piece, recognizing that there are different sorts of ownership.

Ownership

Dez liked Samuel’s manner of speech. She was used to people painting much larger pictures, sometimes filling empty conversational corners with unnecessary detail. Rather like a work of art cluttered with too many colours and lines. At the same time, Samuel's clipped phrases made him almost invisible to the world. Samuel seemed to walk into the land as he worked.

Deep in thought, Dez left the lawn chairs by the garden. She looked up at the orchard. Took the empty ice tea glasses back to Cook. “That didn’t take long, Miss Dez. Did you and Samuel have a good visit?” Cook chuckled as she sliced thick brown mushrooms for her soup.

“Yes we did. He was very thankful for the tea.” Dez put both glasses in the dishwasher, “As am I. And for that sprig of mint.” The kitchen was quiet except for Cook’s chop, chopping. “Miss Dez?” Cook stopped in mid chop. “Now where did she go? Don’t tell me she’s getting just like Samuel. You don’t hear him come in and you don’t hear him go out.”

The land, the house, the orchard.  Emmie owns them all legally. Cook ‘owns’ the kitchen. She feeds us all. Samuel ‘owns’ the yard and the garden. He grows food for us all. Could Dez ‘own’ the planned apiary and the bees? Dez thought of all the people that worked at so many other jobs. Without them, there would be no groceries, no clothes, no………nothing. Just each one of us stumbling blindly through life. Dez watched Samuel as he worked, reminding her of her grandfather and his quiet ways. Bees and honey. Are they really the foundation of life? They are so tiny. Dez walked into the apple orchard. Dust motes beamed in the late afternoon sun. Travelling bees made the orchard alive with buzzing. Dez stood still, listening to them speak.

“Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. 

If you will not share it you cannot  use it.”

~ Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed

Chapter One, Episode 52 - Nature Talkin' - Situationally Theirs

June 27, 2020
Review, Edit and Update
Not much to edit on this one, only punctuation. Except for the title: the original post was titled Short Talkin'. Truthfully, it is titled Nature Talkin'

I enjoyed re-reading this gentle piece.

Nature Talkin'

“Here you go, Miss Dez. Just the way he likes it. Here’s one for you too. You know, I’ve developed a taste for his kind of ice tea myself. It’s real good. The mix you get out of a container is just full of sugar.” Cook handed Dez two glasses of ice tea, a sprig of mint in one of them. “This one with the mint is yours, Miss Dez. Samuel says he doesn’t want anything but strong tea and ice in his glass. I'm sure I don’t know why you're wanting to get out and talk with him. Short on talkin' and not always sweet, that's our Samuel.”

“I think he’s interesting, Cook.”

“But how can you know if he’s interesting when he doesn’t talk? Why if Martha and I didn’t talk it would be quiet as an empty church in here.”

“That’s what makes him interesting. Why is he such a quiet guy? What makes him tick? I don’t know…maybe I just like that he’s so intent just on his work.”

~~~~

Sun shone steadily over the estate. The air was filled with the scent of newly turned earth and apple blossoms. Samuel was thirsty. He knew Cook would have a jug of ice tea in the refrigerator. He'd be going up to the house when he was finished. He squinted at the figure coming toward the garden. "What's she comin' here for?'

“Samuel. Come sit down. I’ve got your tea.” Dez had unfolded lawn chairs, setting them up beside the garden. “Why thank you Miss……Dez is it? A glass of ice tea would hit the spot. Mind if I chew on my pipe?”

Those were the most words Dez had heard Samuel say in one breath since she met him. Not that they had many conversations, but Samuel's answers at best were about four words long. Samuel took the glass, dripping with condensation, and sat  down. They sat quietly for what seemed like an hour to Dez. “You don’t talk a lot, do you Samuel?”

“Nope. The wind and the birds. They do the talkin’ out here.”

“I never thought of it like that, Samuel. We humans just clutter up the air with our chatter.”

“Not always. We just forget that we’re not the only ones talkin’.”

“You’re a bit of a philosopher, aren’t you, Samuel?” 

“Don’t know about that. Just think we shouldn’t interrupt nature the way we do.” Samuel stood up, lifted his hat to scratch his head, and said: “Thanks for the tea and visit, Miss Dez.” He pulled a paper pouch of beans from his pocket. Tearing the top off, he walked to the garden. Dez sat for a few more minutes watching Samuel. He methodically opened a small trench directly below the string he had strung over the long row. Dez heard each sound - the tearing of the paper pouch, dry seed pebbling into Samuel’s toughened hands, the soft squish of the earth beneath Samuel’s knees, the sigh of the wind and the music of the birds.

“There is a way that nature speaks, that land speaks. Most of the time 

we are simply not patient enough, quiet enough, to pay attention to the story. 

~ Linda Hogan, poet and storyteller

Chapter One, Episode 51 - A Man of Few Words - Situationally Theirs

June 26, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

I thought that this short passage would be just fine. Not so. There was one - and a big one. My first line: Samuel didn't have a last name.' was wrong. Now maybe Samuel had me convinced that this was so. Maybe he just didn't read Episode 30 when Emmie said: 'I'm meeting Samuel Forrester, the gardener and yardman........" So how do I fix this and keep the intent of this short passage? Because it is short, I will keep the original and add the edited one. I'll let you, my readers, be the judges.

A Man of Few Words - Original version

Samuel didn’t have a last name. According to him: “Never needed one.” No one knew where he lived or whether he had any family. Digby kept a supply of cheques just for Samuel. For everyone else he sent out the payroll by direct deposit. “Don’t have one o’them computer things. Never needed one. Bank just gives me my money when I hand them this here cheque.” 

There had always been a Samuel on the land of the estate. No one takes pictures of the hired help. If they had it would have shown the same ‘Samuel’ for decades. Never aging. Always wearing the same rough blue denim coveralls over a light blue short sleeved shirt. Always open at the neck. Always the same scruffy straw hat that looked as old as Samuel himself. A dusty, red kerchief flagged from his right back pocket. He didn’t smoke but kept an old corncob pipe in his breast pocket, taking it out to chew on once in a while. 

Samuel saw Giles and Brigitte move the old red picnic table. He straightened up from opening a new row. He stabbed his well used spade into the dirt. With the red kerchief he wiped the dirt from his face and his hands. Keeping an eye fixed on the red table, he clamped his jaw down on his corncob pipe. “Guess there’ll be a weddin’ before long.” Pipe back in its pocket, he went back to digging.

“To be of few words is natural.”

~ Lao Tzu

A Man of Few Words - Edited version

Samuel didn’t want a last name. According to him: “Never needed one.” No one knew where he lived or whether he had any family. Digby kept a supply of cheques just for Samuel. For everyone else he sent out the payroll by direct deposit. “Don’t have one o’them computer things. Never needed one. Bank just gives me my money when I hand them this here cheque.” 

There had always been a Samuel on the land of the estate. No one takes pictures of the hired help. If they had it would have shown the same 'Samuel' for decades. Never aging. Always wearing the same rough blue denim coveralls over a light blue short sleeved shirt. Always open at the neck. Always the same scruffy straw hat that looked as old as Samuel himself. A dusty, red kerchief flagged from his right back pocket. He didn’t smoke but kept an old corncob pipe in his breast pocket, taking it out to chew on once in a while. 

Samuel saw Giles and Brigitte move the old red picnic table. He straightened up from opening a new row. He stabbed his well used spade into the dirt. With the red kerchief he wiped the dirt from his face and his hands. Keeping an eye fixed on the red table, he clamped his jaw down on his corncob pipe. “Guess there’ll be a weddin’ before long.” Pipe back in its pocket, he went back to digging.

“To be of few words is natural.”
~ Lao Tzu

Chapter One, Episode 50 - Romance on the Agenda - Situationally Theirs

June 25, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Initially I was pleased to see that some minor punctuation and unnecessary spaces were all that needed correcting. A most disconcerting gap was the Picnic Basket never made it out of the pantry! So I have added two sentences in one paragraph and another in the very last paragraph that brought the picnic basket out in the open.

Romance on the Agenda

James straightened his tie and smoothed his wavy black hair. Do I look too dressed up for a staff meeting? James ran his finger around the inside of his collar. This is not my best shirt, but it looks acceptable I don't want to look too dressed up. He smoothed his hair again, even if it was only one charmingly unruly curl that was out of place. He went to his desk for the thin sheath of agendas. It was a big day for James. Staff meetings on the Beaufort estate happened as regularly as clock work once a month. However it wasn’t the Staff Meeting that made this a big day. James was escorting Martha outside to the picnic table after the meeting. It would be their first ‘date’. Martha was still in the dark about this part of the plan. At least he hoped no one had ….what does Giles say…’spilled the beans’. 

James ticked off the agenda items and added another on his copy:

1. Ideas about return to work and plans.
2. Do we need a schedule for numbers of staff present each day.
3. Precautions: gloves, masks, designated doors for exit and entry.
4. Questions when Mrs. Beaufort is present: Job status and pay status
5. Rumours

They all seemed acceptable. It did look like there would be more chat than covering real meaty staffing issues. No entertainment events scheduled at all. This pandemic had turned everyone’s world upside down. The estate and this little group of people seemed to be without much purpose. So that first item may be met with silence. #2 - That seemed pretty straight forward.  I wonder if Cook managed to get the picnic basket ready. The third item: He really had taken care of that one. It did seem a bit excessive for just the five of them. To start with he had really wanted this to be his regularly scheduled staff meeting, but as time wore on even he failed to see the necessity of these little get togethers. 

~~~~~

Cook breathed a sigh of relief. Today is the long promised Staff Meeting. Brigitte and Cook have the coffee on, a fresh pot of tea was steeping. There were only the five of them: Digby, Martha, Giles, Brigitte and Cook. Digby always invited Samuel, the gardener and yardman, but he seldom came unless he had a specific request for something. Mrs Beaufort was to arrive for a brief hello at 10:30. Digby still didn’t know what she wanted to say to everyone. 

Ordinarily they would all have been at the table sharing two plates of freshly baked cookies, but because of some well advised restrictions still in place they sat scattered like so many playing cards. Digby at the head of the long table, Martha facing him from the other end. Brigitte and Giles on opposite sides. Cook was not sitting, which really was not that unusual. She was often occupied in cooking something while everyone talked. She was adept at listening, throwing her two cents into the pot whether needed or not. Today, she had a big stew to make. In the guise of chopping up carrots and celery to braise, she was finishing up the picnic lunch for James and Martha. The day before, she came in after the house was quiet to make fried chicken and rolls. While the rolls were cooking she set up the picnic basket and hid it in the pantry. A mango spritzer and a small bottle of wine were in the very back of the refrigerator. Cook heard the back door.

“Martha is that you? Anyone else with you?”

“It’s me and no I’m quite on my own right now……….Oh, Elizabeth, you have those delicious oatmeal cookies out already. I’ll spoil my lunch if I eat more than one.” Martha came into the kitchen. “It’s warm enough out there that I didn’t even need my coat. Have you seen that sunshine? Where is the picnic table gone? It’s usually on the back patio. I thought we’d be meeting outside today.”

“It’s cooler in here Martha” Cook knew Martha would notice so she had a ready reply. “Besides, I’ve got this cooking to do.”

“Well then it won’t stay cool for very long will it, you silly thing, you.” Both women laughed while Martha poured tea for both of them.

“I suppose it will heat up in here before long.”

“Where is James? I’m surprised he’s not already sitting down with his agendas all arranged. He’s usually the first to get here and the last to leave on Staff Meeting day.”

“I think he’s still in his office getting ready. This must be a big day for him. Two months without a sit down with the four of us. And Mrs. Beaufort expected too!” Cook really wanted to blurt out about the picnic surprise Martha was about to get,  This meeting was really a pretence and a set up. It’s about time that James did something about this. I know he’s had his eye on her for years and hasn’t known what to do about it.  Cook just kept chopping and stirring. “You just sit down, Martha and drink your tea.”

The meeting went smoothly. Jobs were secure although hours were reduced, at least for now. Paycheques would reflect this reduction. It was mutually agreed to keep each other notified of when they were coming in, so no schedule was needed or wanted. From this forced retreat into themselves, they had blossomed and learned to accept their own paces. Including Mrs. Beaufort, who introduced herself as Emelina. “I am your employer. However please know that I am approachable and want to hear any of your ideas to create something good out of this place. You are no longer to call me ‘madam’. I will answer to Mrs.B., Miss Emelina or even just plain Emmie. We have a lot to be grateful for and I know I am grateful to each and everyone of you. ….I think that’s all I have to say, Digby. Dez and I will be going into town now, so carry on and just lock up when you’re done.”

When the meeting broke up, everyone disappeared except James and Martha. “Oh goodness, James. I wanted to talk with Elizabeth before she got away.” Martha hadn't seen Cook slip into the pantry, come out with a picnic basket and leave quickly. Giles and Brigitte blocked her view by standing and busily talking about how to address Mrs. Beaufort.

“Martha, everyone left quickly because I asked them to do so.”

“You did? Why James? Why would you do that?”

“Come with me, Martha. Do you remember when we first came here? Both of us young and full of energy.”

“Why, yes I do, James. And you haven’t changed one bit. You are still as handsome and charming as ever." If Digby was a man given to blushing he would have shone when Martha said that.

“I always wanted to ask you for even just a stroll. I definitely did not have enough confidence to ask you for a real date.”

“I always wanted you to ask me. As a matter of fact, I was so annoyed that you didn’t I found someone else and married him. He was a good man and he gave me Joanie. Little Ben and Abby are my precious gems. But my feelings for you have only gotten deeper, James……….I have to stop this talk. I’m getting all mushy and I know you don’t like mushy.”

“You’re right Martha, I don’t like mushy. I am hungry though. What about you?”

“Now that you mention it I am a bit peckish, even after one of those big cookies. Should I see what’s in the refrigerator? Maybe the stew is still hot.” Martha started to the refrigerator as she was talking.

James stepped into her path, and put his arm around her shoulders. He gently turned her towards the front door and began walking toward it. "I have a better idea. Come with me."

“James, what are you………oh, James look. The picnic table.” Martha looked up at James Edward Digby. He was smiling and no longer nervous. Even the air was still. On the old red picnic table, two places had been set, with linen napkins, china and silver cutlery. A charming picnic basket rested at one end of the table. A single yellow rose lay across one delicate plate. James looked up at the dining room window. The shadow girl with blonde ringlets waved and vanished.

“My soul will find yours”

~Jude Deveraux,

A Knight in Shining Armour

Chapter One, Episode 49 - A Storied Past - Situationally Theirs

June 24, 2020
Review, Edit and Update
Detail within sentences in two places was improved - none of it within dialogue. What I have learned over this exercise, is that attention to the details of persons, places, locations or the ambience of a scene is key to showing rather than telling.

A Storied Past

Digby had kept his father’s secret. That is, until the day he answered Emelina’s questions. She had been a young bride, very much in love with young Michael Beaufort. Curious in the flush of new marriage, she wanted to know more about the old house and its history. Digby knew how much young Michael cared for Miss Emelina. ‘Head over heels he is’ ~ Martha and Cook always spoke of Michael as though he were a favourite nephew instead of their employer. James Edward Digby, Mary Elizabeth Saunders and Martha Haverstock had watched him grow from toddler to teenager, teenager to young adult and then a handsome groom ready to take on the responsibilities of the Beaufort Estate. 

Digby Sr. had passed on to Digby the ancient crumbling diary that told of a ghost that drifted through the estate. Different people had seen her in the dining room, laying the table for a dinner for one or sometimes for two. Others had seen her on a swing from the sturdy branch of the ancient redwood in the yard. Digby also knew that she often stood at the dining room window watching as a ghostly wedding ceremony took place beside her swing. The swing that hung from thick cabled ropes and decorated in garlands of flowers. If someone had seen her, they would have seen a smile, her translucent face glowing with joy. Then she would turn to the china cabinet and again, she would lay china and crystal places for two. When she was finished she retuned to the window to watch as ghostly guests gathered, wavering like long silvered grasses in a summer breeze. The flower beds seemed more brightly coloured. Brilliant butterflies dipped and floated. Song birds trilled and warbled. As the wedding party drifted away like thin clouds in a clear blue sky, Sarah floated down from the dining room to return to her garlanded swing. 

~~~~~

Digby waited in the kitchen for Brigitte to arrive. Brigitte would be doing her usual cleaning and dusting of a house that was mostly sitting empty. Pandemic restrictions had merely been eased, allowing Beaufort staff to gather carefully. They were easing themselves slowly back to keeping the estate functional. None of them knew what the final outcome would be for not only the estate,

but for themselves. For today, Digby had one important task to get done. 

“Good morning. Brigitte. How is your health today?” Digby didn’t know quite how to approach the request he had of Brigitte. He had already talked with Giles, who would arrive at lunch time expecting his help to be ready.

“Good morning, Digby. My health is great. Are you well?” That was odd, Digby greeting her in that manner. If he was present, he would always say good morning or afternoon, but seldom did he inquire after her health. 

“Mm……yes…I am well, quite well thank you. I am a bit nervous though.”

“You? Nervous. Is everything all right?” Brigitte put her lunch away in the refrigerator. She brought her water bottle to the table and sat down. 

“I have something to tell you and something to ask of you. Please bear with me.” Digby looked as if he had to spit out his words. He was not a man given to speaking about himself and definitely not asking for help for himself.

“Go ahead. I’m listening.” Now Brigitte was concerned. Did she still have a job? Was he about to tell her that her hours had been shaved? She really couldn’t afford that. Grocery prices had gone up. She was doing more driving, making certain her parents were well stocked. She had tuition coming up for her fall classes. Brigitte had signed up for classes in being a modern day lady’s maid. She was questioning that decision as she watched Mrs. B. change from a helpless, snobby middle aged woman to a middle aged woman, self assured and not quite so uptight. But today she needed to know what Digby had to say, no matter what it was. 

“Brigitte, it’s about tomorrow. Tomorrow as you know, I am having our Staff Meeting in the morning. This is difficult for me so I might as well just say it. I’m taking Martha to lunch tomorrow. No, I didn’t say that correctly. Martha and I are going on a picnic, but it will be a surprise for Martha.”

Brigitte was digging her nails into her thighs to keep from laughing. She had never seen Digby so nervous. This had nothing to do with her. He was sweet on Martha. Everyone knew it ~ except for Digby and Martha. “It’s ok, Digby. You need me to do something to help set the stage.” Digby looked puzzled. “You know, set things up so you and Martha can be comfortable. Do you need a blanket to sit on, or a couple of those lawn chairs? I’m afraid I can’t help you with chairs, maybe a blanket.”

Digby held up his hand. “While that is very good of you Brigitte, I have something different to ask of you. Giles is going to be here at lunch time to move the big picnic table from the patio area to the front lawn. He needs help to move it and I would like you to be that help. I would have asked Samuel the gardener, but I really just want to keep this among the house staff. If you don’t feel like that is a job you should be doing, please feel free to decline.” Digby wiped his brow with a large white handkerchief.

“No problem, Digby. I’ll get my work done here, have my lunch and help Giles out. Does he know I’ll be here?” Still amused, Brigitte got up from the table to get started on her morning’s work, She also needed to turn her smile away from Digby. He was such a good man but so awkward!

~~~~~

When Brigitte first encountered Sarah, it had frightened her. But when Martha told her what she knew about Sarah, her heart softened. She felt badly for a child that had gone so early and seemed so lonely. After Martha left to answer her telephone, she told Sarah that she would like to be her friend. She remembered that only a tiny sigh like a breeze had come through the unopened dining room window. Since then Brigitte had always felt safe in the upstairs. She kept the china and crystal in order, never rearranging anything. The silver cutlery exactly lined up perfectly in the right hand drawer. The linen napkins laundered and kept in the left hand drawer. When she finished her upstairs cleaning and dusting for the day, she waved to the air and said ‘See you later, Sarah’.

Today, her routine was the same. The only change was that she took her lunch out to the picnic table. It was a lovely day, the patio was beautifully shaded by the wisteria beginning its springtime drape through the latticed pergola. Digby must have something really special planned for this picnic lunch. They could have had it right out here. It’s lovely. “Giles! Hi! I’m over here. I’m just finishing my lunch and we can move this table.”

“Hi Brigitte. Thanks for doing this. James was very specific that he wanted you on this job. Did he tell you why? He told me it was something about ‘keeping it all in the family’.”

“He didn’t use those words, but I got the gist. Giles, do you know any rumours or stories about this old place? “

“How much time do you have, Brigitte? Driving the Mrs. all over town here and there, I do hear whispers. Some of them louder than others. Sometimes it’s about an old man in the garden. Some kids are sure they hear eery noises coming from the apple orchard. And then there’s the one about a witch riding her broom at Hallowe’en. Now I don’t believe that one. Kids reading not enough Harry Potter. If they did they’d know it was Hagrid on his motorcycle!” Giles was ready to spin his tales. Travels all around Hartley and the hours he had spent waiting for Mrs. Beaufort had provided him with a rich imaginary life.

“But you know Brigitte, the one - call it ‘ghost story’ - that rings true is the one about the girl on the swing. Of all the stories I’ve heard, that is the one I hear the most often. She's apparently a pretty little thing.”

A breeze, like a tiny sigh, rumpled the wisteria over their heads. Giles and Brigitte did get the table moved that day. From the dining room window, two figures - an earthly man and a shadow child - could have been seen. They both smiled as they watched the picnic table settle just ahead of the arching redwood branch.

“There’s always room for a story that can 
transport people to another place.”

~ J.K.Rowling

Chapter One, Episode 48 - Promise Not to Laugh - Situationally Theirs

June 23, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Just a couple of teeny tiny fixes: removal unnecessary spaces.

More importantly, Promise Not to Laugh, reveals Sarah's history of her sad demise in the 1700's. Sarah, now the resident ghost of Beaufort Estate materializes often.

Promise Not to Laugh

Over pizza and coffee on the evening of Mother’s Day, Dez and Emmie did reminisce about the changes wrought in their lives since their almost forced reunion two months prior. They also talked of their dreams and hopes for the future. The conversation looped and swirled around the different ways they lived. On Dez’s mind for most of the time was a question she had held to herself until the proverbial right moment. After the pizza was only crumbs scattered on the grass, and the coffee had only drops remaining, Dez decided the time was right. It had to be, or she would just keep putting it off. Emmie would know. At least Dez hoped she would. If she did know, why hadn’t she told Dez about the girl on the swing.

“Emmie. We’ve talked about everything from your black eye when you were 15 to the horrible colour job of my hair and everything in-between. I have a question though that only you can answer. That’s if you know the answer.” Dez was nervous. She was ordinarily pretty straightforward to the point of being blunt. But this would make her sound really crazy. Lock’m up crazy and throw away the key crazy.

“Dez, stop beating around the bush and ask your question. Is it something personal? Something you need to know about me and my marriage?" It was unusual for Dez to not just come out and ask her questions or make a bold statement about something.

“Promise you won’t laugh or think I’ve lost it? It’s just something that happened a few days ago when you weren’t on the estate. And no one else was either."

“What did you do, Dez? Now you’ve really got me curious.” The puzzled look on Emmie’s face almost made Dez laugh.

“Ok. Here it is. I saw a ghost. She - or it - was in the dining room and then she was on a swing on the big old redwood in the front yard………Did you know about it? You’ve gone white as a sheet, Emmie……Emmie?” Now it was Dez’s turn to look puzzled.

“You’re sure you saw her…I mean a ghost?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“I didn’t tell you because she doesn’t appear very often. When she does, it’s usually because something is going to happen. Not everyone sees her. No one seems to talk about her, so I don’t really know if she has appeared to anyone else. Digby told me quite a story about her.”

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell me about her? But meeting a ghost is kind of exciting. I’ve never been in a real haunted house before. Was she in the house when you and I were isolating?”

“You know, now that you mention it, I don’t know why we don’t talk about her. It’s like it’s some big shameful secret. Or maybe, it would make our whole family look a little odd. Digby knows about her, but I don’t know if he has actually seen her. His father, the first Digby, found this old diary in the back of an unused little cupboard in his room. Having just taken over from his father, Digby was investigating all the nooks and crannies in his office. It wasn’t a big diary and could have been easily missed or as easily thrown away. He showed it to me one day when he was telling me about some of the house’s history. The leather cover was dusty and cracked. The pages were yellowed and flaking away. Most of the ink had faded or smudged, but was still legible enough to read her story. The date looked like it could have been 1748 or 1773, I’m not sure which. I assume it was written by the butler at the time. 

      

     'the Master’s young girl child has passed away. She was taken          with a fever only one week past. Her face and hands blistered. Master had servants bathe her fevered body with cool water. They have all sickened and one of them has passed on.’ 

A few pages on there was another entry 

     ‘Although buried in the graveyard, the little child has come home. One evening, I heard the swing creaking. There was the girl on the swing. I approached her and she vanished.’

After that entry there was nothing more about her or about how the family managed.”

“Could that be why I could see her? Because there is a ‘sickness upon the land’.” Dez laughed at her own poor joke. She stopped smiling. Emmie was trembling. “What’s wrong Emmie? Or are you just cold?”

“No, I’m not cold.” Emmie was a bit snappish. “Her story always leaves me frightened. She has never done anything to anyone, but she is just there with her big blue ghost eyes. Like she wants me to help her, but I don’t know what to to for her.”

“Now you’re sounding like she materializes more often that once in a while.”

“I suppose I am. I’m just worried that something bad is going happen when she shows up. If I just knew who else had seen her. I could talk to them and find out what they know. Maybe I could plan a seance or exorcism or something. When we walked in on Giles and Digby the other day, and they were talking about a picnic under the branch of the old redwood, it made me terribly nervous.”

“I know! It freaked me out too. That’s where her swing was. Has Digby forgotten about that? He read the diary with that first mention of the girl on the swing.” Dez had not only seen the girl with the blond ringlets, but she had seen the scars on the branch where the rope would have been tied. “I suppose we should warn Digby against putting the picnic table too close to that branch’s overhang. But let’s just leave any more ghost stories for the day time, Emmie.” The sisters gathered up their things, discarded their paper pizza plates and coffee cups, and walked back to Dez’s apartment. It would not be long before Sarah would appear again on her swing.

“we need ghost stories because we, in fact, are the ghosts.”

~ Stephen King, Danse Macabre