― Margaret Atwood
I wasn't sure if Nat Cohen really believed I carved Lillian's and my initials into The Boulders a hundred years ago, but he knew I believed it and my sense of adventure was contagious and he readily caught it.
He promised me he'd research the names I gave him and so, for the moment, there was nothing for me to do but go home, go for a jog and spend the evening reading my Jack Finney novel by the fire.
It was late spring but the nights were cool and I appreciated the cozy warmth of my den.
By ten pm I was pleasantly tired and decided to turn in early and call it a night.
As I was getting into bed I heard the tic of rain against the windowpane and the familiar distant sound of a train's air horn somewhere off in the dark.
It would be a good night for sleep and perchance to dream, as Hamlet would say. It might also be another opportunity to be with Lillian in this same village but in a different time.
I fell into a deep sleep and found myself standing with Lillian on a hill at Sleepy Hollow looking down at a steam locomotive approaching.
It was trailing a good head of steam as it clacked over the rails about 40 feet below us.
The ground actually trembled at it passed. It was glorious!
Lillian shouted over the rumble of the engine, "I think this was the same train Uncle Isaac took when he came home from the asylum in Guelph."
"Yeah, Edna was pretty upset about his death," I shouted back.
"You mean his suicide?" she replied. "Don't be afraid to call it what it is, Paul."
"I don't know why Edna is so scared I'll divulge that. I would never reveal a secret that's so damaging to the family."
Lillian wrapped her arms around me and kissed me tenderly on the lips.
"I know you would never hurt anyone, Paul Thickett, and I think even Edna knows that. She's just being controlling but some things can't be concealed forever, especially in West Harbour."
I awoke to the sound of a train's horn in the distance and the blue flare of lightning trembling like moonlight in the room.
Lillian stood again at the foot of my bed gazing at me with such a sad stare it tore my heart.
"What do you want?" I cried out in anguish, tears streaming down my face.
"I want you, Love," she whispered and slowly faded from sight.
I began shaking violently as uncontrollable spasms wracked my body.
I felt ill but somehow managed to get up and sit on the edge of the bed.
It took several minutes for the tremors to subside and when they did I felt cold as death and chilled to the bone.
I stumbled to the closet and found a wool cardigan sweater and put that on over my pyjama top.
I was still shivering so I pulled on some wool track pants and returned to bed, hoping the layers of clothing and bed covers would warm me.
And crouched in a fetal position I lay staring at the lightning outside the window, hoping Lillian's apparition would return again.
This is just me, not a comment on the writing: I feel the story come alive the moment there are strong emotions.
PS: I have also made my post for you...
https://hive.blog/hive-110490/@arthur.grafo/the-vision-of-robert
I read your excerpt and I see what you mean about strong emotions. Robert's passion was so deep it blinded him and he became monomaniacal. The reader is drawn into the. maelstrom of his obsession and awed by the images of a beautifully completed illustrated manuscript. Your writing has all the simple elegance of Steinbeck's book, The Pearl and reminds me of that work.
It's interesting in a way because there's a fine line between style and content. Nabakov often says style is all that matters and some writers feel justified if they have a good yarn to spin and produce a pot-boiler. But creating fear, and pity or pathos always impacts readers.
Thank you.
So true, Alex - and I will read the post :)
Enjoyed a meaningful quote to start the story, looking forward to reading further, it has been a long time since following a good story line here on Hive. Thanks for peeking interest once again!
@tipu curate
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Thanks, Joan - I post an instalment once a day (usually by 200 pm EST)
Will keep an eye out to keep up or "batch read" on a day. Longer script in installments is a great idea, I could imagine reading travelling to work as one did a book in the old days on a train commuting.
Exactly! I did this on Twitter for years and posted my instalments to coincide with lunch hour:_
Now that must be the most unusual way I have ever heard of short reading matter via Twitter, very clever since many do not know what to do during their break! Plus you would gain a constant following, nice....
That was my whole plan - give the readers something for free and a link to my website - I was pushing my first published novel at the time - now, I'm simply giving Hive something for free bc I can't re-publish what is already on line but it keeps me busy creatively posting a new part each day..ha ha, exclusive to Hive - but it's true.
Good way to get eyeballs onto the reading matter, when you write new content people will know who the author is and buy the published story for full read.