My novel is almost ready for its last visit to wonderful editor, Leslie Miller. http://lesliemillerwordsmith.com
Sixty pages of reading and ‘fixing’ to go. Much of this story is pulled from fact. I still have the photo album referended in this story. This poem was written by me in 1974, and proudly remains in the front of the album. Yes, I am Sheila and forty years later I still have premonitions and I still see dead people.
I was too agitated to sit still. Although I didn’t really want to touch the photo album, I had to. I wanted make it mine again I picked it up and looked at the first page. Tears stung my eyes as I remembered receiving the album as a gift from my mum in June 1974. I’d written the date in the front cover of the album, along with a poem to mark the occasion. It went like this.
Memories of happy days,
Should never be allowed to die
And this, my album, I hope displays,
How in my heart they lie,
Golden moments of laughter and fun,
Are captured for all to see,
When I am not quite so young,
Just how I used to be.
I’d been taking photographs from the day I was old enough to hold a camera. It was a hobby. The first two photos were treasured memories of my first David Bowie Concert at Earls Court, London in May 1973. The third photo was of my first vacation in Rimini, Italy. Those were happy carefree days and I wanted them back. I looked around to see Les looking at the photos too.
“Don’t let what happened today spoil your memories. Viktor is a vile unhappy spirit, but we will be rid of him soon. Father Ernie and Major McCarthy will send him to hell where he belongs.” He said and hugged me again.