please let me know what you think.? Deadwood, South Dakota, 1904
. . .
Maryanne Jones
“Maryanne!” I heard them yell my name. But, I wasn’t listening, I was done listening. I was done.
I continued climbing the stairs up to fifth floor tower, the forbidden tower. Mamma always said, “Maryanne you are never to play in that tower, that’s where the ghost play”. Mamma said a lot of things. Mamma said everything would be okay, but nothing’s okay.
“Maryanne!” the footsteps were determined as the followed me. I was determined, too.
It was a windy night; I could hear the wind howling with rage as I made my way to the top. The windows rattled angrily, the house shook with fury, the footsteps of my followers were drowned by the noises outside.
Suddenly, all was still. The only noise was the chime of the church cell marking the start of the hour; the bell rang once, twice. I continued up the stairs. The wind had died down to nothing more then a hushed whisper.
Maryanne, it hissed. Maryanne. It seemed to be calling my name; I was drawn to the tower that night. Maryanne, Maryanne, Maryanne. It was beckoning me forward. The bell chimed three, four. The door made a creaking sound as I slowly pushed it open. Crrrreeeeak. Maryanne, Maryanne, it was more frantic now; it was getting louder, more urgent. The window in the forbidden tower was open, the curtain billowing from the wind. The bell chimed, five, six.
Reality rushed back into me. My name became anxious screaming again, the wind was howling again. Seven, eight chimes. I struggled to stay upright as I walked to the window in a trance. Nine, ten. By the time I’d made it to the open window, my pursuers were just outside the door I don’t remember closing. Eleven. I stood on the window ledge and surveyed the dark and dreary light; the only light came from the full moon. Twelve.
Good-bye, I thought. I jumped.
. . .
Maryanne Jones
“Maryanne!” I heard them yell my name. But, I wasn’t listening, I was done listening. I was done.
I continued climbing the stairs up to fifth floor tower, the forbidden tower. Mamma always said, “Maryanne you are never to play in that tower, that’s where the ghost play”. Mamma said a lot of things. Mamma said everything would be okay, but nothing’s okay.
“Maryanne!” the footsteps were determined as the followed me. I was determined, too.
It was a windy night; I could hear the wind howling with rage as I made my way to the top. The windows rattled angrily, the house shook with fury, the footsteps of my followers were drowned by the noises outside.
Suddenly, all was still. The only noise was the chime of the church cell marking the start of the hour; the bell rang once, twice. I continued up the stairs. The wind had died down to nothing more then a hushed whisper.
Maryanne, it hissed. Maryanne. It seemed to be calling my name; I was drawn to the tower that night. Maryanne, Maryanne, Maryanne. It was beckoning me forward. The bell chimed three, four. The door made a creaking sound as I slowly pushed it open. Crrrreeeeak. Maryanne, Maryanne, it was more frantic now; it was getting louder, more urgent. The window in the forbidden tower was open, the curtain billowing from the wind. The bell chimed, five, six.
Reality rushed back into me. My name became anxious screaming again, the wind was howling again. Seven, eight chimes. I struggled to stay upright as I walked to the window in a trance. Nine, ten. By the time I’d made it to the open window, my pursuers were just outside the door I don’t remember closing. Eleven. I stood on the window ledge and surveyed the dark and dreary light; the only light came from the full moon. Twelve.
Good-bye, I thought. I jumped.