NyghtManager It's getting cold again... - October 19, 2009 add/view comments (1)

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WINTER GHOST

                                  All I know of her is her voice, it quietly whispers through the blowing snow, which still falls. Her voice, it quietly calls for help, and cries in pain, drew me from my path and onto this chase through the snow filled streets of Mt. Airy. She always seems to be near, around the corner, behind that fence, just over that hill, but I never draw close enough to find her, never come close enough to see her.
           *help*
        Again I hear her voice and I twist in the piling snow, my eyes straining to see through the thick never ending curtain of falling white. Pushing on in what I think is the correct direction I notice that, in the snow, which is up to my calves now, the only tracks I see are my own. I listen for any sound, something that would help me to find her, but all I hear is the peaceful silence of the snow-blanketed streets. It's the worst blizzard this city has seen in a decade and I could be home nice and warm but here I am following a ghost.
        *please*
        Closer this time and I have to turn again; she has me going in circles. So I sprint (if you can call it sprinting in knee-high snow) around one snow capped set of bushes and up a back driveway, only to find more swirling snow. This is getting ridiculous and I want to just go home but her voice is so frightened, so compelling, that I can't. Yet it is so cold, and my thin jacket and jeans aren't cutting it in this storm, and my feet are starting to feel like blocks of...Wait! What was that? Something moved in the small alleyway between the homes just ahead. I lunge forward, hopping through the snow trying to get to the breezeway before she was gone. The steps to the alley are covered in snow and I stumble as I try and find the foot purchases. Once again I find nothing, no woman, no footprints, no trace. Am I crazy? She's not here, nothing was ever here, but I was so sure. Then I see it, up past the houses, by the front steps between huge twin bushes, something flutters in the blizzard's gale. I stomp through the thigh high snow to claim my prize. Just a bit of cloth, fragile and so thin that it was almost transparent. It was hers, it had to be. Perhaps it was part of a scarf or maybe it was...was...bait. The thought hits me harder than the snow biting into my skin. Why did I...
        *here*
        From behind me there comes a strong gust that drives the loose snow into a blinding cloud. I brace my unprotected face against the assault, covering my eyes until it is over and I can see again. I turn and there is something lying in the snow of the alley that I had already searched. It's her, the woman whom I had been searching for. She's wearing a shear nightgown made of the same material as the cloth I found and she lay, unmoving, partially covered by the snow. I kneel beside her still form that is radiant against the cold white snow. Hesitantly I reach out and touch her arm and I can feel her warmth even through my gloves. At my touch her eyes open and look weakly at me with a small hint of recognition. Her lips part meekly but the only sound is the howling wind...

It’s a much longer road than I thought it would be but I’m still pounding the ground trying to get published.

              I’ve just finished an Urban Fantasy novel that I’m sending out to agents even as I type this. I have a short story that will be published in an Anthology of Black Fiction soon to be released. (I’ll post a link as soon as I get it!).
              Currently I’m working on a second novel (a piece of which you’ve just read above) as well as a bit of historical fiction. Still pounding –Night
 
Oh yea! I’m 37 years old, still single (although looking), and the only kid I baby-sit is my niece. (Hey Bella!)