The Admiral and Miss Pots

The Admiral & Miss. Annie

Annie wasn't unattractive, per say, but back in the day plumb woman such as herself weren't greatly sought after, with UN-amazing hair, and not so glittering eyes she had no suitors. But she was a good girl, and loved to take care of the Admirals home. The admiral, was the late great Edmond Fitzgerald. He was a practically a saint in the quaint town of Marsbee. Marsbees was a small coastal community hidden smack dab in the middle of thick engulfing mountains. The forests were so old and so thick it was impossible to travel in the winter months. So the Admiral, and his great ship, The Hennessy kept this small community stocked, fed, and of course in the lap of luxury for those lucky enough to be born in higher society. Like the Admiral himself. A century past, and his family continued to keep the community well. Sadly after his death, no one could use his private office. When his future kin had tried to set up office, things quickly got out of hand. Books would fly from the shelves, and if you starred at the life size portrait that sat above the great stone hearth you would swear he was starring into your soul. Lights would flicker and on a particularly bad evening a 100 year old crystal brandy decanter flew across the desk and shattered against the wall. The family decided it was best to just keep it locked up. But out of respect for the Admiral, they cleaned the room once a month. Until Annie arrived as a housemaid. Unfamiliar with town, let alone the house she simply walked in one day smiled up at the handsome man in the portrait. She curtsied and began to clean the room. All the while talking away to the man in the painting. To everyone's shock and amazement. Nothing happened, nothing flew off the desk, nothing shattered against the wall. Books, they stayed on the shelf. The family stood outside the room, mouths open as they watched the rather unattractive woman cleaning a room that hadn't been open in well over 40 years give or take a nervous maid running in to dust and rush out. Soon the house felt lighter, the more Annie cleaned that room, the brighter the mood in the house. The Fitzgerald family started to have guests again, and as long as Annie continued to clean all was well.

The family over time forgot to appreciate the Admirals good graces, people would get bold and let themselves in to the study to read, often drunken shenanigans ensued and something special would be knocked from a shelve, a respectful guess would spill wine one the expensive rug near the sitting chairs. Annie herself was getting rather frustrated, each Sunday she would come and the room would be a mess. Normally a timid woman she'd had enough at told Senior Fitzgerald that if it continued she would quit. He rolled his eyes and walked away, she'd never leave, he would laugh with his family and friends. The only man that could love such and unexceptional woman would be an old grumpy ghost.

A few weeks after her conversation with Fitzgerald, Annie didn't come, in fact, she didn't come the next Sunday or the next.

Poor Annie Pots, not a single friend, no one went to check on her. Tragically she died in her sleep, a bad heart the town doctor explained, taking his hat off. So young.

They say though, the family boarded up the room and covered it with a wall. Instead of screams of anger, some nights you will here the Admiral and Annie laughing, music playing and the sound of happy dancing feet shake the Chandelier down below. Perhaps Fitzgerald was right, maybe the only man that could love such and unexceptional woman, was a ghost, a man worthy of Miss Annie Potts.