POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE
By Nandy Ekle
Sighing, I looked at him in the eyes. “David, I have a ghost.” I made it up, just off the top of my head. I was usually careful about not using my ability in front anyone, but this had been a knee-jerk reaction as I pictured the blood red liquid smashing on my carpet. The scientific world called what I did telekinesis, but I called it Alfred, after Batman’s butler.
“You’ve seen other things happen?”
“From time to time, just little stuff.” Might as well make it good, I thought. “Normally, just helpful little things like stopping a falling glass or picking up the laundry. I just say ‘Thanks, ghost.’ Nothing sinister has ever happened.”
“Wow! Why didn’t you say something? When was the first time you saw something?”
“Now how can I know that? It’s not like I marked on the calendar, ‘Today an apparition appeared,’ you know? You’re way more interested than I am.” I began to flounder, but he would not let it rest.
“I would have remembered the first time, Dora. I mean, a ball of wine moving from thin air back into the glass? That’s pretty memorable.”
“Well, it’s not something I took the time to write down; it just happened one day. I told it ‘thank you’ and went on with my business.
He walked toward the door rattling his keys. “I can’t believe you never said anything about it. Holy cow! This is BIG!”
“See how you’re acting? Why would I want you to know if you’re going to freak out like this?”
He put his hand on the door knob and his eyes looked into the air behind my right shoulder. “I think the temperature in here dropped. I have to go.” And he drove away before I could think of anything else to say.
I turned to the empty room and giggled a little. My giggle turned into a full-out laugh and I sat on the couch in front of the wine glasses. My brother, the scaredy cat, always nervous of things that are a little out of the ordinary. Exactly why I felt the need to keep Alfred a secret.
But if I knew David, he would not stay quiet.