Fragments Gallery
The Storyteller: Ghosts
"It was autumn, leaves were changing colours, harvest was beginning and it was growing colder. One day Katrina was out on a walk, heading to one place or another after work. Katrina was young, often dreaming of a better time, a better life. Like so many other young people she dreamed of the future."
"What is future?" called a child's voice from the back of the dark room.
The old man in front of the single fire illuminating the crowded room paused in his narration. Rubbing at his eyes with his weathered hands he spoke, his voice was slow and soothing as he answered, it almost felt ancient, "The future is what is to come young one."
There is a stirring in the room as the children in the room shift positions and begin to whisper. The Storyteller waits calmly, taking advantage of their distraction to take a drink from the tall glass mug sitting at his side. The dark liquid contained within swirls in the depth of the mug as he replaces it at his side. Around the edge of the room adults and older teens hush the children. As silence falls the Storyteller nods and continues the narrative.
"There was a long lane lined with great trees which could lead to anyplace in town. Some called it the main road despite the fact that that another road nearby already held that name. Others called it barrow way. There was some argument as to where the name came from; some said it was called barrow way because of the many farmers who in years past had pushed wheel barrows down the road, wheel barrows filled with food to sell at the morning market. The rest said that the name had a more sinister nature. They said that there had once been an ancient burial ground somewhere along the road. A barrow if you will. They said that the road was haunted and they refused to walk the road unless it was broad daylight, and even then they were cautious, careful. Katrina knew these stories, but she was unafraid. She had walked this road many times before and she'd never seen a ghost."
"What is a ghost?" asked a young girl sitting at the fire side.
"A ghost is the spirit of a person remaining on the earth long after that person's body is gone."
Her eyes widen and she falls silent.
"Mommy says that ghosts aren't real," says a young boy sitting to the Storyteller's left.
"Does she now? What do you say?"
"I don't know," says the boy, confusion in his eyes.
"Who can really say whether or not they are real?" asks the Storyteller, "I can tell you though that as long as someone believes in ghosts then ghosts exist."
The room falls silent once more as the Storyteller resumes his narration.
"Today the road was empty other than Katrina herself; although this was uncommon it was not unheard of as many inhabitants of the town and surrounding farms did avoid the road. This suited Katrina just fine. She enjoyed the peace and quiet of the empty road as she walked."
The Storyteller pauses to wet his lips with another drink from the mug at his side.
"The walk was pleasant; even though winter was quickly approaching the weather was still mild. The winds that flowed around her and the heat from the sun were warm, although the sky was cloudy so often the sun was hidden. It was when the sun passed behind a cloud that she noticed him."
"Notice who?" called out another voice from behind the fire.
"I'm getting there. Patience. Katrina first noticed him by the side of the road; he was sitting, his back resting against a large rock. His clothing was tattered, in many places his clothing and skin were marked with what looked like dried blood. Katrina hesitated at this sight and then moved around the man in a wide arc, trying to get a better look without approaching him. The man's eyes opened as her shoes crunched through the gravel. Slowly he looked up and Katrina froze, watching him carefully to see what he did next. His cracked lips open and he spoke one word. Help. Katrina was gone in a flash, running to town to find the doctor."
The storyteller pauses to take another drink, his audience is rapt, their attention fully on his words.
"Soon enough she returned with the doctor and several others from town in tow. The sun was by then out from behind a cloud and so the road was well lit. Katrina stopped as the rock came into view. The man was no longer there. The doctor asks where is he? Katrina shrugs and points to where he had lain. The doctor sighs and then gestures to the others from the village, they spread out and quickly disappear from view as they begin to search the area surrounding the road. Katrina slumped to the ground nearby the stone and waits, trying to catch her breath. The warmth on her face fades as the sun passes behind a cloud. She jumped as a voice spoke right in front of her. Help me it says. She looked up and there is the man, once more leaning up against the rock, clothing tattered and marked with blood. The man smoothly rose to his feet and walked off down the road. Katrina leaped to her feet but before she could call back the searchers the sunlight pierced through the clouds and the man again faded from sight. Shocked Katrina continued to stare down the road. A thought occurred to her and she glanced up towards the sun but all the clouds seemed to have gone past. As the others returned and she turned to leave words are carried to her on the wind. Help me. She shivered as she walked away."
The old man drains his mug and rises to leave.
"It's said that when the sun is hidden he still wanders lonely roads searching, ever searching, for the one that he lost."
Without a backwards glance he leaves the room amidst silence.