Was the sun rising or setting? How long had I been here? What was I doing? And then I remembered talking to the old lady in my local pub. I didn’t know her, but felt her watching me. Eventually, feeling uncomfortable, but curious about her fixation, I ordered another drink and went to sit beside her.
“I haven’t seen you here before, but I feel your eyes on me. Do you know me?” I asked.
“You called me.” She said in a quiet voice that sounded like footsteps on dry twigs.
“Called you? I don’t even know you,” I replied, something wasn’t quite right here.
“Oh you called me, it was just a whisper, but I heard you. What do you want from me?” She asked.
“What does she mean?” I thought to myself. I began to feel uncomfortable and troubled as her piercing old eyes stared into mine, reading my mind, no reading me. I felt I may faint. She looked away and the feeling passed.
“You are troubled my child. All is not well with you. You need to clear your Demons.”
“Clear my Demons, what do you mean?” I asked, but I knew she was right. For the last year I had been haunted by thoughts of hurting myself, even taking my own life. I was in my early thirties, but felt life had already passed me by. I was an outsider looking at the life other people lived, feeling excluded, sad, different.
She cackled but it wasn’t an angry mean sound, it was just an old woman’s laugh. “Go visit your mother.”
“I’d love to, but my mother is dead.” I replied angrily.
I looked down at my drink, not wanting her to see me cry. I wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks before looking up again, when I did, she’d gone. Good riddance, I thought.
I finished my wine and went back to the bar to get another glass. “Who was that old lady?” I asked Gina, the barmaid as I gestured in the direction of the table at which we’d sat.
“Old lady? What are you talking about? You were alone. You looked like you were talking to yourself. I hope you don’t want another drink, I think you may have had enough.”
Was I losing my mind?
“No, I don’t want another drink. I have an appointment. Happy New Year,” I said to the bemused barmaid as I left. I didn’t care that she thought me crazy. I walked towards the cemetery, the old lady’s voice echoing in my head, “Go visit your mother,” she said. I decided to take her advice.
How does this story end? Check back in a couple of days to find out!
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