I haven’t always drank
So please don’t judge me
I come here to forget ….Her.
A widow
Her husband died in the war
She never came out
She never came to town
Or to church
You could see her movement through the windows from time to time
a shadow
Fleeting
I was just starting in journalism
I wanted to be a success
And my first real chance came
When a story regarding a widow
And the loss of her husband landed on my desk
It required staying with Her
For three weeks
Documenting her life
What she did
What she liked
Find out who she was
And if she was grieving
Her house
Was intimidating
more like a manor or hotel
dark
as if it held every
Demon haunted story
Branded by this city.
Inside wasn’t much better
Cold and consuming any light
Rather than being illuminated by my lamp.
I stayed
On edge by her ghostly movements
She never made a sound
Rather just floated from room to room
Dressed in black
Her red hair framing her face
The days passed
Without her sleeping
she sat in her window
Often going away into her room
For hours
In her chair
Once I asked about her husband
all she said was
“I’m too young and old for this I don’t know what to do”
And then rose and left the room in her soft way of moving
I don’t know what it was
But on a particular rainy Sunday
Exploring the house and library
I noticed her bedroom door open
I couldn’t help looking around
It was dark
And cold
Dust in the floor
My skin felt like ice
Old photographs
And paintings
covered the walls
“this is my life do you know what you’ve been sent for?”
the voice was cold
I was startled turning around
I hadn’t noticed her in the room
But there she was
in the corner
tall and dark
Filling the blackness
Her red hair almost like a fire
Framing her green eyes
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize this was …I just..couldn’t help myself”
“you will find..there are darker rooms in the world then what you’ve seen here and darker evils than all mystery”
She said,raising her hand towards me
Later I woke around 3am
There was faint singing
moving through the house
I cracked open my door
she was
Standing still in the hallway
Staring at the floor
But the singing continued
Echoing through the rooms
Her voice
Only
it wasn’t coming from her
I left Monday…
They burned her house Friday…
The banks couldn’t wait anymore
And the paper published my story
Like she was a witch
She just stood there in the window
The flames rising higher and higher
I woke up…
I heard singing in my house…
“Over the hills and through the wood
Down by the water
the fire will make you clean
Over the hills
And through the wood
Down by the water…”
I felt someone staring at me
I looked hard
And then I saw the shadow of hair
Her tall figure
Beside my bed
Just staring at me…
It’s been like this for 6 nights
So I come here to drink
Last night
There was screaming too
A mans voice
I woke up
To the singing
And fire
My house was on fire
And a man
Was screaming at her
It was her husband
Her dead husband
The singing continued
“Over the hills and through the wood
Down by the water
The fire will make you clean”
She was standing by my bed again
I ran out the door
I came here
Don’t judge me
I come here to drink
And forget
