Mary Beth hopped through the door spritely, like she’d always done, alighting on a chair. Her dark curls bounced as she glanced around, but he sat gaping. It had been three years since the funeral.
“Why don’t you throw out that sorry wreath I made? Christmas is about hope, grace, life–” She stopped herself with giggles.
His heart skittered. “But, honey, you–ain’t you dead?”
Her impish smile grew. “Darlin’, Death’s been beat.” She reached and lifted him like a newborn. He gasped, then laughed as dawn crashed in with trumpets, announcing a triumphant king’s return.
(Thanks for Loren Eaton for organizing this shared storytelling event. Here is his index post with links to other stories, and I have one more story to share a little later this morning. Merry Christmas.)
A ghost indeed! 🙂
Good ole Gabriel, tootin’ his horn. Nice picture to go along with.
Really liked the image of dawn crashing and the aural horns to go with them. I wonder at the repercussions will be of the dead returning. Thought-provoking.
Nice one, Phil. The colloquialisms make it.
She reached and lifted him like a newborn.
Something about this line really works for me. Reminds me a bit of how life is more real, more corporeal than death in The Great Divorce. It’s a great image.
Wow, nothing more frightening than the great redemption. Beautifully written Phil.
…….dhole
Thank you, everyone. It’s encouraging to read your comments, and I love the photo too. It’s innocent, but in the context of a ghost story, can be eerie.
Loren, you got it perfectly. Thank you so much for pointing out that reference.
Wonderful, Phil! Very touching and inspiring. Merry Christmas indeed!