Fade Away
It was a frigid winter’s night when I saw her.
Earlier that day, I had been banished to my room with no dinner for pulling the cat’s tail, and I was determined to play the rebel. Burying myself up to my chin in quilts, I stuck out my jaw resolutely and prepared to stay up as late as I could as a form of protest against my parents.
I must have nodded off, for when I awoke, the clock had just struck five o’clock. It was still dark outside, and deathly still. Nothing could be heard throughout the entire house — not even a creaking floorboard. I felt a shiver running down my spine, but it only lasted for a moment.
A sudden movement out of the corner of my eye caused my heart to leap into my throat. Something — someone — was stirring by the window sill. I rubbed at my eyes and looked again, thinking that perhaps my childish imagination, combined with lack of sleep, could be conjuring the image. Unfortunately, the Something was still there...and, to my dismay, it was staring at me in an intense manner. Somewhat frightened, yet curious, I stared back. It appeared to be a woman; stately and tall, with thick lengths of hair pinned atop her head. Her clothes were lacy and white, and she looked like one of the people in my history books who had lived many years ago. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she started walking — no, gliding towards me. I wanted to cry out, run away, ask her how she got there...anything. But I was transfixed. Unable to move, I lay in bed, simply watching her.
It was now that I saw something that had escaped my notice before. To my astonishment, I found that I could see almost directly through her, as if she were made of frosted glass. If I stared hard enough, I could make out the window and its sill behind her, and the potted petunia which I had been given on my birthday two weeks ago. A sudden thought struck me, and I couldn’t help but think of all the times my older brother had told me of ghosts living in old attics and garrets. He had been teasing — I had no doubt of that — but to a child of seven years, the stories seemed quite real. And now, as I watched this unearthly being approach, I observed that there might be some truth in them after all.
She stopped about a foot and a half away from my bed, and stared at me in a hollow, empty sort of way that made my blood freeze. I clutched at my sheets, wishing that she would speak...anything to convince me that she was real. But silent she remained, and presently she began to finger the antique locket that was pinned at her throat, never taking her eyes off me. It was then that I decided to do something — anything — to break the cold, heavy silence which lay between us, and gathering up my courage, I spoke.
"Who are you?"
My voice must have had some effect on her, for she stiffened all of a sudden, and her eyes widened — seemingly empty, yet full of fear. It almost seemed as if she was afraid, though I could not guess what of. For a moment, we both stared at each other, and somehow, I ceased to be afraid of her. Looking into her pale, deathly eyes, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I didn’t know what kind of life she had led as a living, breathing person, but I thought it must have been a horrible one for her to be doomed to wander about as a ghost, unable to touch or feel.
Her lips were moving. I strained my ears to hear what was issuing forth, but no sound reached them. Without warning, she began to fade from the bottom up; slowly, but surely. Before she vanished completely, she reached towards me with one hand, as if to touch my face. But I felt nothing, and then she was gone.
I blinked. The sun had risen.
