The Un-subtle Spirits

The Green Spirits.

Notes: He actually wrote 'nots'. Mentally tutting himself he changed it, but his mind slewed off on it's own and he watched as the screen filled in front of him; there were days when he really felt he was just the pair of hands for someone else's mind.

'Nots': (with the change of tack he started jotting again)

Do Not

wear your underpants inside out

put glue (paint; tomatoe ketchup; jam – in fact, anything sticky and messy) on your friend's seat just before he's about to sit down

make faces at people behind their backs

hide your mother's handbag to make her think she's losing her mind

write naughty messages in the dust on your neighbours' cars

be mean to little insects – they've got a life too

Where was this nonsense coming from? As he wrote he increasingly got the sense of a naughty young lad, sniggering behind his back. ...Wasn't there a 'Do Not' for that?...

This was a strange old house. They'd lived there about two years when the odd flickers of green light that occasionally moved in the corner of his vision became more direct. It was an early Sunday morning and he had come downstairs to write for a couple of hours before everyone woke up when he caught the green flicker in the corner of his eye; something had moved at the end of the hallway. As he glanced up there was the distinct form of a woman turning at the banisters and disappearing up stairs. A ghost? He didn't believe in them, but there was no doubting this apparition. For the briefest of moments he was aware of emotion that had nothing to do with his blandly curious state of mind. His focus was broken – redirected. The feeling faded and, oddly, his own focus returned to his writing and he thought nothing more about it.

Until the next time it happened. It was several weeks later and this time there was a distinctly energetic flurry of activity that disappeared through – I mean, right through the front door, as though it were open for that moment. The forms were indistinct but the impressions were strong; someone small being bustled out by someone bigger. There was a moment of excitement in the air which quickly faded to leave him with a vague impression of 'Exciting Events-unknown' and an odd expectation. He thought he caught the faint sound of happy laughter and then he was alone. The silence that descended was so complete that his ears felt muffled. He became aware of his breathing. Then, the images began, cascading through his mind slowly at first but swiftly becoming a jumble.

Images of life like frozen tableaux; people inhabiting this house. At the beginning the imagery was moving as he seemed to look in on moments in daily life. Formal gatherings in the front parlour; scrubbing shirts in the wash-room; reading stories in the kitchen; giving birth in the big bedroom. As the images began to tumble faster they became mere snapshots. The décor changed and implements in the kitchen began to appear, then update. People became blurs of movement. Snatches of sound punctuated the imagery and all the while a general impression of contentment and happiness.

Suddenly all was still. He started to breath again. And all that wonderful cheeriness and peace seemed to coalesce around him in a palpable spring-green aura.

He thought of writing this down, but he was so moved with joy he couldn't put a single word down. Instead, he stood, looked around the kitchen and decided it was a 'Breakfast-in-Bed' day for his lovely wife, sleeping in after the end of her late shifts.

He put the croissants in the oven and readied the jam and butter. The coffee was brewing and, in a few minutes he had the tray prepared. When he roused her, she took a few moments to register the tray, first noting the smell of fresh coffee. The sunlight streamed through the tree outside, filling the front bedroom with dappled light and the leaves whispered a lovely day ahead.

Later, emptied tray lying on the floor, they nestled against each other in loving afterglow. Such a lovely start to the day. Such a lovely beginning of their new family.

And so, the old house cast its spell on the next chapter in its history of love and happiness.