I subscribe via email to Sarah Selecky‘s writing prompts. I don’t always respond to a prompt every day, but I do eventually sit down and write. Sarah’s instructions are to write by hand, in a notebook, for at least 10 minutes, so each piece I share will be relatively short.
I stared at the wax seal on the envelope, remembering the time we visited that colonial village, a re-enactment village actually, designed to make as much money off the tourists curious about the single mud and log cabin remaining in the field. The cabin itself was a dusty skeleton of it’s former self which was probably never very impressive but a clever group of local citizens full of pride and economic verve knew they could erect a tiny bustling empire around summer visitors. We were there for the food and craft festival, she loved going out of the way for those events and finding something to adore about the earnest enthusiasm of the planning committee’s results even if it barely resembled the product promised in the promotional photos.
We stood in the doorway of the little cabin as the breeze sighed through the holes in the walls. Sunlight stripes drew a parquet floor over dirt and laughter passed through a doorway small enough for children but not much more. Not big enough to dream of full bellies and rich clothes, just enough to get by.
She shivered and said, “Did you see that ghost that passed through me?”
“Harvest time, probably.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “Let’s go find something to buy. I saw a booth selling quill pens and leather books. I’ll write you something and save it to send you when I’m a ghost passing through you.”