Monday, October 25, 2010
This week, we are suspending out normal schedule for some good spooky fun! We all love Halloween, and to celebrate one of the best times of the year, we'll be sharing our own ghost stories, etc. So, I'm sharing a a super short flash fic I wrote years ago, and then a quick real life ghost encounter.
My flash fic:
The angel breezed by, wings sparkling and halo askew. She giggled, a high sweet sound in the deepening twilight. A devil followed close behind, tail dragging in the gravel, pitchfork snagged on the angel’s skirts.
Then, their mother walked past. Each engrossed in their pursuit of sweet treats, and all oblivious to me.
I lay beneath a golden maple, upon the carpet of autumn’s splendor. A chill breeze unsettled my costume in its passage. And, the fallen leaves whispered softly beneath my weight--complaining, displeased that my blood stained them crimson…
And my real life ghost encounter actually took place the summer of 2009, in the ICU of the heart hospital in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
My father had suffered a subarachnoid hemorrhagic aneurysm, and was hospitalized in a coma. From the moment I walked into the room, I knew there was something, someone, more there than the staff and family members. I felt a presence at the foot of his bed. Not the cold spot some talk about, no electronic disturbances. But there was another spirit keeping watch.
A couple days into his stay, Dad "woke up" and was highly active while I was spending the night in the hospitality house. For hours my nephew and I fought to keep him occupied and not allow him to rip out something he should. My nephew left to take a break and I stood on the side of Dad's bed that the presences occupied. When I could get him to stop pulling at his many IVs and other wires and tubes, he'd look to my right side, and stare.
"Who's that guy?" Dad asked.
"I don't know, Daddy. Who do you think he is."
Dad squinted, rubbed his face, so I put his glasses on him. I watched those pale blue eyes open wide, and for the first time in days, something other than pain radiated from him.
"It's Greg," Dad answered.
My brother Greg had passed away when I was fourteen. He was there for my Dad in his hardest moments. I like to think, when the heart damage from his massive heart attack took his life a couple days later, that Greg was there with the nurse, and Greg lead him to the other side.
When the family gathered in the room later, two presences were gone.