by Stephen King
Then when I went into the gazebo itself to sit and rest up a little for the walk back I found the items I’m enclosing. They are perfectly real, as you see, not a bit ghostly, and yet there is something very strange about them, don’t you thinly?
The little woman-figure in the blue shorts is the more interesting of the two. It’s obviously what the kids call an “action figure”, but I’ve been teaching kindergarten for three years now and thought I knew them all. I don’t know this one, though. At first I thought it was Scarlet, from the G.I. Joe team, but this little, lady’s hair is a very different shade of red. “Brighter. And usually kids treasure these things, will fight over them in the play-yard. This one was tossed, into a corner, almost as if it had been thrown away. Save it for me, Kath, and. I’ll show it to my kindergarteners next fall… but I’m betting right now that none of them will know her and all of them will want her! I think about what Adrian said, about how the ghosts in Mother and Son Meadow might live on a slightly different plane, maybe of the astral kind, maybe of the temporal kind, and sometimes (often, really) I think Miss Red might actually come from that plane! (Does the idea gives you the shivers? It does me!)
Okay, okay, so a strong wind has come up outside and the lights are flickering. Put it down to that, if you want.
Then there’s the picture. I found it under the little gazebo table, you’re the art major, kiddo, tell me what you think? Is it some kind of gag-maybe a hoax perpetrated by a local kid who enjoys teasing the guests? Or have I found a drawing made by a ghost? What a concept, huh?
Okay, girl, that’s my creepy story for the night. I’m gonna stick the whole works in a little padded mailer from the gift-shop, then see if I can persuade Tom it’s time to stop shooting bumper pool in the game room and come to bed. Frankly, I’m not expecting it to be a problem.
I love being married, and I love this place, ghosts and all.
Still your fan,
Pat.
P.S. Please save the picture for me, okay? I want to keep it. Hoax or not, I think there’s love in it. And a sense, almost, of coming home. P.
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