Seen from the darkness of the hushed kitchen the figure before us stood frozen, a looming shape outlined by the lightening sky, its face shrouded, having thrust the door wide open its arm remained raised in the air, its trembling finger pointed as if in accusation. Even the pigs outside were hushed into deadly silence by its awesome presence.
I clutched the cognac glass and stared resolute at what must surely prove to be my nemesis. Shrouded in dirty skirts and shawl the vision stood a good six feet tall or more, an unearthly height for a Breton. From its body emanated an unholy smell of decaying flesh and excrement as if it had risen from the very bowels of hell itself.
The only sound was that of Chief Patissier in the other room searching in the pantry for the means of lighting a fire and something to cook upon it.
The spectre spoke, shading its eyes as it did so as if the better to see into the gloomy room.
”Who dares to enter here uninvited? “ it demanded its harsh tones gruff and disturbing. “Answer me” it yelled “or I shall set the very hounds of Hell itself upon you!”
I could not speak.
Outside were the sounds of other footsteps moving closer, and the apparition turned its head swiftly so that its face was partly revealed in profile. It was as if the Devil, upon hearing a description of Eve, had attempted to manufacture himself his own feminine companion to rival God's creation, but had instead created a grotesque travesty of womankind. The voice, the height, all was wrong, and yet,I held it strangely familiar in some repellent way.
Chief Patissier called out to me ,some prattle about having found matches and paraffin, and at the sound of his voice the figure tore its attention back to the kitchen as if jolted by electricity. I gasped loudly as my husband, oblivious to the danger therein, re-entered the room armed with his treasure and immediately seeing the intruder cried out in shock. The figure rushed forward, arms outstretched.
The last thing I saw as I collapsed into unconsciousness was the sight of those large strong arms stretching out to encircle my poor husband.
...................................................................................................................................................................
The illustration is a photograph of the young Bernadette Soubirous who, in 1858 saw the ghostly apparition of a small woman who appeared to her eighteen times. The lady, as she called her, was wearing a white veil, a blue girdle and had a golden rose on each foot as well as "holding" a string of Rosary beads and caused roses to bloom in February. One can only ask oneself why is it that this young uneducated peasant girl is blessed with such a vision when I am rewarded by a grotesque apparition stinking of rot and built like a Blacksmith? Sometimes I really feel there is very little justice in the world!
15 comments:
make sure you have the cockroach spray at the ready, should kill all known spectres, bugs, germs AND nasty smells
It's bound to be cognac - such an unholy brew better stick to abstinthe...(Is that how it's spelt???)
Is it Chief Patissier's mother, or some long lost relative . . . .who may or may not have suffered some accident en-route . . .
Golly, how frightening, UPL. Can CP not see it too? Please don't let this be the end - surely the redoubtable UPL can be revived with a dash of smelling salts or whatever the 19th century Breton equivalent might be...
Non, c'est impossible que ... you are still one to believe in justice.
Faith is what stands on the shoulders (even those above six feet) of justice.
Let your husband face the future and be prepared for all that might mean.
I would also wish that you were able to remember this vision, so that you, eventually, will be able to capture it on canvas.
All the above comments are based on my assurance that your consciousness will be restored. Must have been. Slowly, I realize that otherwise we would not have been able to read what we just read.
xo
Horrid vision! I think this must all be a dream and UPL will awake in her 400 thread count sheets and goose down duvet! All will be well!
How terrifying! Does Chief Patissier have a mad wife in the attic?!
Oh lordy, I think I know who it might be but far too nice to utter it in polite society !!
Wow! Wish I could have been there.
Crystal xx
Sally is right. This apparition sounds horribly familiar.......
Shall I call for the men in white coats?
Could it be that there is an imposter in the household, disguised so as not to spill the Beans.
Camilla.x
....and stole him away...oh no....is it a he or a she???
Really - what a ghost has to do to be taken seriously these days! You fainted. I suppose that was something. Apart from a gasp! And that isn't much for a ghost to write in his diary. Still he can only blame himself for fogetting the chains and the skeleton suit.
Chief Patissier is obviously made of sterner stuff and has invited the spectre to dance. Now nothing depresses an apparition's self-esteem more than being asked to tango. This isn't what ghosts do.
I imagine (assuming always it is not one of the children practising slyly for hallowe'en) that the ghost has by now slunk back to the secret room behind the fireplace and will be in a black sulk for the next three weeks. Do please tell the Chief Patisssier to try to be a bit more scared next time!
Its a very tall apparition isnt it?
Its a very tall apparition isnt it?
Post a Comment