As I peered cautiously through the window, there seemed to be a light source deep in the bowels of the building. There it was...a television. The screen was white and flickering as it cast an eerie glow, on all things tangible, and otherwise. The only sound I could hear, was intermittent static. There was something else...what was that? I moved to the next window.
I could barely see her, but there she stood. She was old...very old, with wide, staring eyes, and a face that looked like it had been carved from an apple, and then left in the sun to dry and wither. Her thin, white hair was drawn back severely, in a low bun. Her dress was long...a faded floral print with lace at the neck...a neck so high and tight one had to wonder how she could find her breath. Her stockings were thick and flesh-colored, her shoes...sensible. She was silent, as she stood behind the long wooden table, staring at me.
The eerie, wispy things beckoned through the windows, rasping something indistinguishable, with loud, urgent whispers, growing more impatient by the minute...
Well, either that, OR, it's the building with a parking lot, that's the home to a local farmer's market... where the fine citizens of this small village proudly set up their stands to sell their carrots and beans; their heirloom tomatoes, cucumbers, dill, sunflowers and onions. Little do they know - they're being watched. . . .
Vacant and haunted, or farmer's market...you decide.
Comments
Post a Comment