Write a poem about ghosts. Or write a story about someone who gets a great price on a house because it’s supposedly haunted. His/her first night in his/her new house, s/he starts to think s/he’s made a terrible mistake…
“Come on, Sheila. Let’s do this right.” Aaron said as he bent down, swept her off her feet, and carried her into a foyer with walnut stairs curving up to a balcony view of the Susquehanna River from a ridge near Endless Mountain.
Sheila giggled. “Me… or the river valley.”
“It is the most gorgeous site I have ever seen. And it was the last thing Uncle Wilber saw before…”
“Don’t think about that, dear. Uncle Wilber had always had a bit of a screw lose his whole life.”
“How can you say that!” retorted Sheila as she stepped away and collapsed into one of the three immensely-cushioned settees that were encircling the bay windows.
“You know it’s true. Even your cousin, William, said that as he was signing the deed over to us. He and his wife just didn’t like it up here. You know how fussy Reva can be about a house.”
“That’s not what Reva told me.”
“Riva…. Now there is another emotionally distraught woman.” Aaron made a quick head duck and a giggle as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
Grabbing Sheila by both shoulders, and with a tender gaze into her deep ember eyes, he said,” I thought we were here to celebrate the first night…. alone…. Before all the rugrats get here with William.”
“I’ll get the champagne from the coolers in the car.” Aaron winked.
“I’ll meet you in our new room,” replied Sheila as she sashayed off to the master suite.
As Aaron walked up the stairs, a rich, burnt-butterscotch aroma filled the air as he neared the balcony. “Did you find one of Old Wilber’s cigars? That smell really brings back the memories.”
“Of course not. But I thought that I caught a whiff of it too as I came back from the bedroom. I thought it would be more romantic to watch the sunset from here. This is why we bought the place.”
“You look beautiful. Deep green has always been my favorite color.”
“You fool,” giggled Sheila. “You are the one that bought me this.”
“Yes, and I have such excellent taste in so many things.” Aaron nipped at her lips as he bend and sat down to snuggle on the settee.
“To what shall we toast?” asked Sheila as she held her empty glass she had collected from the picnic basket Aaron had retrieved along with the chilled champagne.
“Beauty…. Definitely beauty,” Aaron responded with another nip.
With a playful slap and a push away, Aaron drew Shelia into his arms. And soon the sunset had faded and so had they.
Morning found them still in each other’s arms and intertwined on the settee.
Sheila pushed hard against Aaron’s chest. “It’s not very funny.” She pushed again. Harder. “Do you hear me? It’s not very funny.”
Yawning, Aaron tried to sit up but Sheila ready to bounce on him again. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Why would you do something so uncaring? So utterly stupid?”
“Honey?” he tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at the side table?”
One the side table, placed in a crystal ashtray, was a smoldering cigar emitting a wondrously rich, burnt-butterscotch aroma, and setting just beside of it was an unfinished glass of what appeared to be brandy.
“Where did that come from?”
“That’s not all. Look at the balcony!”
Aaron turned and looked to where his wife was pointing. Tied onto the bannister of the balcony was a rope. Stepping closer, Aaron saw the noose at the end of it.
“Honey, I’m not sure if this house is the deal of a lifetime.” Aaron was visibly shaken. “Thank God the children are not here. Let’s pack and meet William in the driveway.”
Written for Creative Writing Now: Be a Writer Now class.