Something ― or someone ― moved in the shadows. The air shimmered as silently I crept up the steep rickety staircase. Deep down I knew there was nothing there but even so, I glanced into the alcoves as I passed by.
My voice hoarse, I softly asked, “Gillian, where are you hiding?”
All was silent.
I sighed, the sadness overwhelming.
Miraculously, she appeared before me. The cornflour blue sapphire earrings and necklace complimented the exquisite evening gown: a tight bodice, laced up the back, and full ankle length skirt. Tiny satin pumps, fastened with slender ankle straps, and beautifully embroidered wrist bag matched her delicate silk gown.
The sigh alerted her to my desire.
“Too late,” she murmured.
Ghostly figures, a pale silvery grey appeared ― one by one ― as the scent of lilac blossom wafted in through the open window.
Panicking, I raced towards the open door.
“Too late,” she purred as the door slammed shut.
Her laughter terrified me. Whispering voices echoed around the room as I pulled open the door and raced down a narrow winding corridor leading to nowhere muttering, “Ghosts aren’t real, they’re a product of my overactive imagination.”
Feeling the touch of her hand on my shoulder, I screamed.
“Jamie, what’s wrong?”
I sighed, embracing my beloved wife. “Gillian,” I murmured breathlessly. “I was dreaming.”
I groaned when intense pain rendered me helpless as she dropped her shawl onto the floor revealing a blue silk evening gown and pretty satin pumps.