Sleepyside’s Ghosts
A moment from the past of Dark Places, inspired by picture 37 from CWE#3 at Jix.
Dan stalked along the darkened path, lost in his own turbulent thoughts. This part of the Preserve had become familiar enough, over the years, that he did not need to keep track of where he was going. He could give his attention over to the anger, the pain – and the guilt – which accompanied him everywhere he went these days, each of them battling for supremacy. The guilt was strong this evening, but the anger was winning.
The path turned a corner and Dan stumbled to a stop. He could see something up ahead; something pale, almost luminous; a vague shape that shifted, even without any breeze. A ghost, popped into his mind, but he rejected the idea at once. He did not believe in ghosts – or not, at least, in this kind.
Moving closer, he saw that it was only a sheet of thin, white plastic, snagged on a dead tree branch. Patches of moonlight filtering through the canopy lent it the ethereal glow. Dan carefully removed it from the tree and bundled it up to take away.
As he went on his way, he found that the incident had started a new train of thought. Every bush held a sinister secret, every shadow a lurking figure.
“Enough!” he told himself, aloud.
In his mind’s eye, a headless horseman rode silently past. But Sleepyside Hollow was a long way from here and that horse had been flesh and blood; a clever illusion, calculated to scare.
Dan shook his head and trod on, more slowly now.
The next ghost belonged to Lisgard House – the ghost of Sarah Sligo. That had been a trick, too, though Trixie liked to hint darkly of happenings still unexplained. He shook his head again. Sarah was dead and gone, with no one alive who knew her in life. That kind of ghost did not scare him. The dead in his memory were the ones who haunted him.
A procession of them passed next, the trees, rocks and moonlight fading away, replaced by tall buildings, streetlights and honking cars. With an effort, Dan pushed those images away and focussed on his surroundings. A night bird fluttered in the branches above, invisible in the gloom. He began to walk again.
Sleepyside held other ghosts – ones not fuelled by legend or tall tale, ones that did not float around covered in sheets, that did not clank chains, or call ‘Boo!’ For Dan, Sleepyside held a different kind of ghost: opportunities lost, relationships strained, choices made.
What would it have been like? he wondered, contemplating one particular circumstance. And what wouldn’t I give to find out?
Again, he shook his head. He scrubbed a hand across his face. The sum of many people’s choices had led to this point. He could not change the past. And, much as he would like to, he could do little to influence other people’s decisions.
But, alone there in the forest, under cover of darkness, Dan stood still and thought of what might have been…
If she had taken his advice…
If he hadn’t felt compelled to save her, at his own expense…
If there had been another option than to give himself to the darkness…
He might have had a career, a home, a family.
He might have stayed friends for life with those who had saved his teenage self.
He might have truly escaped his past.
It wasn’t to be.
That future wasn’t for him.
The thought echoed around and around in his head.
Because she made that choice. And he hated her for what it was doing to him. Even as his love for her – platonic, unconditional love – drove him to stay his course.
And there, in the darkness, the anger and the pain and the guilt ebbed enough for him to feel another emotion, one he had tried to keep at bay. He felt grief. Grief for those lost might-have-beens, for the friends he was pushing away, for the life which had been his. Because he stood at the point of no return and he could not turn back now. He owed a debt to these people, his dear friends, and he was repaying it with his life. They might never understand, but he could not afford to explain.
“I won’t come here again,” he whispered, to the trees and the sky. “This is the last time.”
He would lay these Sleepyside ghosts to rest. They could stay here, buried in the depths of the forest, among these paths he had rode and walked so many times. The pain and grief and most especially the guilt could stay here with them. But he would keep hold of the anger; it would serve him well for the things he needed to do.
Dan straightened and began to stride back to the place he had left the borrowed car. His choice was made. A few hours’ sleep and then he would step into the role he had prepared. He had no use for ghosts.
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