“He struggled over the wooded, dirt covered terrain, dragging one leg, and gripping his side trying to keep his wound closed. His sword: heavy, he left it lying on the ground. It now hangs here by the spiral staircase.” We all turned in that direction.
“The fog rolled in blocking his view. The feel of the walkway beneath his feet was a familiar one. He knew he had made it home unlike several of his fellow soldiers. He collapsed at the doorstep. His loving wife Mary fell to her knees, weeping so loudly it echoed across the land.” He paused, bent down, and took a sip of water from the glass sitting on the floor next to the hall tree. He cleared his throat and continued on.
“Alright, if you would all follow me this way to the Dining room. Look closely at the oriental rug gifted to the General by a foreign leader, you can still see the blood stains where Mary tried to drag her husband inside the home.” He gave us all an opportunity to witness the gore.
“They say he still roams the land searching for his precious Mary, his spirit stuck in the worldly realm desiring but one last look at her.”
I felt my son tug at my sleeve. “Mom, she looks just like you.” Pointing towards the portrait of the husband-and-wife duo. He told me this every time we visited the mansion. At that moment, I felt a cold breeze pass by me. I turned to look but found nothing.
Once again the guide spoke. “If you put both hands behind your back, palms up and close your eyes, you can feel the General place his cold, lifeless hands upon yours.” Of course, everyone tried it. I did feel hands, but they weren’t cold. They felt oddly real and warm.
I snatched my boy up and started to run. I was gently grabbed from behind, spun around and kissed. I blinked repeatedly to regain my vision. I fell to my knees. My dear husband was home from his tour in Iraq. “I knew I would find you here, you history buff, you.” The three of us cried and held each other full of emotion from his surprise homecoming.
Leesa Writes 