Apparition
In a belated celebration of Allhallowtide: As her mother slowly drifts away, a woman begins to notice strange apparitions in her home.
I submitted this piece last year to NYC Midnight's Rhyming Story Challenge (the pieces don't have to be poetry, per se, but they do need to include some form of rhyme in the narrative). My story took the form of a series of sonnets.
Genre: Ghost Story
Theme: Glamor
Emotion: Startled
This piece was also featured on a Mysterious Feedback episode of the podcast Jimmy Akin’s Mysterious World, a podcast that I cannot recommend enough!
1
The dollars, monthlies, finance options, bills,
They circle round my thoughts while dishes rinse –
My mother and her broken mind that spills
In tantrums, fights, aggression, railed against
A world that’s unfamiliar to her now.
A sound breaks through my reverie. A voice
I do not recognize. I hear it ‘round
The corner playing with my two young boys.
I tiptoe to the playroom, and there sits
A little girl, old-fashioned, small, and strange.
She rolls toy cars along the rug and flits
So quick my boys start laughing. Then a change –
Her eyes look up at me – I’m tense with fear.
She tilts her head, she smiles, she disappears.
2
This massive, glamorous house, it belies
The worries dogging my steps. Hardship, death,
My mother’s failing mind. The world, it tries
But cannot give our lungs one extra breath.
And all the money in the world can’t add
One single moment to my mother’s life,
Can’t make her lucid, drag back thoughts she had
Five years ago, before our current strife.
With laundry piled high, I trudge upstairs,
Until a woman’s voice arrests my step.
She’s there; she’s smiling at my sons. Dark hair,
Young face, familiar, beautiful, except
She vanishes. But I’ve seen her somewhere.
In memories – gentle hands in my hair.
3
Nurse: I checked the dates and times you asked for.
“And?” Heart in my throat and phone at my ear.
Nurse: Trust me, honey, I’m head of this floor,
And at those times your mother was right here.
She wasn’t sneaking out to you and back.
We had her here, safe and sound and sleeping.
“Asleep? You’re sure?” I asked. Then a face, racked
With pain appeared, drawn and raw and weeping.
My mother clutched the granite countertop,
Her grizzled, messy hair, her wrinkled face –
The mother I knew yesterday, mind stopped
With tangles, plaques, and chemo, woven lace
Inside her brain. “Did you have her meds changed?”
I asked the nurse. “I think my mom’s in pain.”
4
I turned from eggs and melted cheese to see
My mother sitting at the breakfast bar.
Startled, I dropped the omelet, and its cheese
Splattered the hardwood floor. A diamond star
To her lapel pinned, pearls in both her ears,
My mother of five years before, prim, sleek,
And glamorous. Her eyes now had no tears.
I gasped. “But, Mom – how?” I managed to creak.
“I missed you so,” she said. “I had to use
This chance to thank you for intervening.
They’ve fixed my meds now, and so, thanks to you,
You see me at my best.” She was beaming.
She reached her hand to me, and mine passed through.
My barest whisper. “Mom, I’ve missed you too.”
5
My phone rang as I tucked my boys in bed.
My husband answered, but I snatched it back.
He shook his head. “The hospital,” he said.
And, breathing, praying my voice wouldn’t crack,
I answered. Their response was no surprise:
“Come soon; your mother will not last the night.”
Gold headlights and deep darkness met my eyes
‘Til I arrived in harsh, sanitized light.
She lay in bed, grizzled, fragile, and small.
I was incensed by tears that filled my eyes.
I’d said goodbyes these past five years, and all
For her to give me hope again, then die.
She stirred, eyes opened, and she held my gaze.
I clutched her hand until they closed again.