I stood at the edge of the forest both enticed and reluctant. Behind me the village beckoned. Houses with chimneys from where wisps of smoke coiled upwards promised me home and hearth.  The warmth of home and hearth lulled me to take a step back. But a deathly cold air escaped the forest and fanned my hair. A deep chortling laughter rumbled somewhere in its belly. The rumbling vibrated causing the moss under my feet throw up tiny stones and tickle the roof of my feet. Of all things dark and sinister, of all things evil and mean that awaited me in darkness anywhere, this one was certainly the blackest and I took a step forward nonetheless.

A pause has descended over my blogging for which I am sincerely apologetic to my dear readers.  No, I did not plan to take a breather, nor a pre-planned hiatus. The biggest peril my writing suffers as of now, is my impending move which may be interpreted as a period of zero writing. I genuinely feel inadequate and imperfect when the pleasure of conveying my thoughts on paper, be it physical or digital, is robbed from me.

All the chapters in The Daisy Lemmas Riff have been awe inspiring, projecting a magnitude of creativity born within such wondrous minds. To keep up with the mystique of each chapter, I hereby present my own. Please forgive me if I may have deviated from the central theme.

You are not accustomed to me, but I am. I have watched you, followed you and sometimes protected you. You are most dear to me and I require you to see me now, without losing anymore time. I bid you to come by the bridge over Black’s brook after midnight and we shall meet. Come alone.
Your well wisher
A

‘They say that shadows of deceased, Do haunt the houses and the graves about, Of such whose life’s lamp went untimely out, Delighting still in their forsaken hosts’. – Joshua Sylvester (Poet, 1563-1618)

I have seen that many of us are simply appalled by the very mention of ghosts. They do not possess the nerve to talk or hear about a haunting. I do not know whether it is  the concreteness of death, that a ghost of a dead person perplexes them so, or it is that, the thought of waking from the dead as  a possibility baffles them to such a great degree, that a mere mention of ghosts or a haunting sends them bolting for the door.