Ghost Story

​“Who are you? What’s your story?”
I ask Eleanor, the only ghost whose name I know.
She lives in the tower bedroom.
She’s sad. She’s waiting. She won’t tell me for whom.
I think its her beau, coming to take her away.
He never made it.
She waits, wearing her tea length lace gown.
She stands by the windows and looks out.
“Don’t tell anyone about me” she says.
 
“Who are you? What’s your story?”
I ask the man with the bowler hat. I don’t know his name.
He hasn’t told me.
He has a temper. He frightens me.
He apologizes.
He was passing through town and decided to stay.
“Don’t tell anyone about me” he says.
 
“Who are you? What’s your story?”
I ask the frazzled woman who stays in the blue bedroom with the man with the bowler hat.
They argue. She’s never satisfied, never happy.
She’s warn down. She doesn’t like being dead.
Or having to stay forever with the bowler hat man.
Don’t tell anyone about me” she says.
 
Who are you? What’s your story?”
I ask the very angry man who walks up ad down the hall near the stairs.
He tells me his story. He was pushed down the stairs by an angry woman.
One of the women who worked in the house when it was a brothel.
That’s where he died.
“Don’t tell anyone about me” he says.
 
“Who are you? What’s your story?”
I ask the gentle old woman who stays in the north side garden.
There is peace there. Tranquility.
“That’s enough” she tells me, “peace and tranquility.”
Then…..” I’m Charlotte.  May I stay in your garden?”
“As long as you want” I say. “For eternity. Nice to meet you, Charlotte. You are welcome here.”
Don’t tell anyone about us” she says.
 
No one will believe you.