For background see: The Night Before the Nightmare. Written for Tale Weaver #25, September 11, 2014.
When the living family was here, I watched a lot of television. I found the “reality” shows interesting. So, this is how the world worked. Sometimes, I blinked back the tears. I lived such a different life; gone with fever and chill of a winter’s night. I would always prefer warm, seductive nights with dancing fireflies.
Frighteningly, there were several shows about ghost hunters. The worst was The Great Ghost Chase Race: teams of four competed to have the best proof of ghosts. I shivered; poor folks like me, their routines shattered by cameras and microphones. Strangers tromping through their spaces. This was another nightmare. When I chased the living family away (oh my such fun!), I never thought they would admit to having a ghost in their country home. I was very mistaken. I knew what the van pulling up in front of the house meant. I was to be the ghost “caught on camera,” analyzed by paranormal equipment. Only if I let them.
To my great pleasure, there were fairies in the garden. Shy, it took over a hundred years before they tinkled, pirouetted from night flower to cherry tree branch when I was in the garden. I introduced my firefly friends. Soon, the two groups were practicing elaborate dance numbers. This year, it was the Firebird Suite. I didn’t like bothering their careful step, tinkle, flash mapping. But I did need some help.
At dawn, an excited crew and competitors left with “proof” of a haunting caught on video. A sure win show. When they played the video back, easily identifiable fireflies danced, flashing in shapes and patterns; providing the outline of a “ghostly” figure. Fairies provided faint haunting songs, always just ahead of the team. It was terrible that audio was so garbled, it was impossible to hear voices.
Rid of the ghost hunters, at least for now, I fluttered in the garden to the fantastic ballet of fireflies and fairies. Images to warm me through the solitude of winter; a solitude I once sought. Waiting for the cherry tree to release it’s perfume, calling the fairies out of hibernation, and welcoming next year’s fireflies. I smiled; there were things to be grateful for in this un-life.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s Fairy Tale Prompt: Ghost Hunting