Haunted (A Halloween Ghost Story) - An Example of My Work

Leonie Tomkins sat at the breakfast table, allowing herself the tiniest smidge of margarine over two-day old bread. She imagined the scene of a hunched, approaching fifty year old woman, swaddled in designer jumpers, perched low on the single wooden chair. 

God, she looked sad.  

Chewing a piece of brittle crust, she reflected on the silence and how odd it sounded.  Leonie had always sought out the quietness, walking miles to acquire its relief; yet now it had found her the experience proved something else.

Somehow undefined.  

Different.

It had not always been like this. Not when the children had traipsed through the old wooden floors of her expensive London townhouse, their dragging heels a constant reminder of her mother's words, 'You will never be alone'. Again, another lie.  Now that the children had left, loneliness took away her desire for the silence.  Loneliness consumed Leonie’s mind.  

Time had caught her.  Somewhere between having a family and getting old, time had revisited and reminded her of the frailty of life.  Her life.  One she was starting to see etched out in the lines forming in her long fingers, winding down the backs of her hands, caressing the roots of her youth.  Life reminded her of a person she used to be.

She never wanted to come here.  He made her.  She knew the island held too many memories of a time long ago in a previous life when she had been someone else. The last time she had been here had been over twenty years ago.  That had been a time when she had allowed herself to dream a little, and she had recovered some remnants of her freedom.  This place was magical and she had told everyone she met that part of her belonged here.  No one had believed her.

From that point it seemed that life became singular. Motor lived. An array of straight lined thinking.

Clear and uncompromising.

Wasted.

The children had offered some light to the dark days.  Chattering of stories consisting of irrelevant, yet delightful small details.

That is what had happened. She had tried to embrace their needs and lost her freedom as a result.  On rare occasions the moment would seize her. Youth revisited her in a rush of adrenaline, and together with the children they would run out the back door.  Hair streaming, bare feet crunching upon grass, laughter captured and discarded like cheap tat on the cusp of a breeze.

She still heard their voices at home.  The occasional snippet of rushed breath or a throaty giggle.  She saw them out the corner of her eyes, a leg in a half race stance, or a flicker of floating brown curly hair.

But the children were gone.  And he had made her come here. 

Somewhere in her mind, she fought to retain the images, the pictures of their happy faces, and the memory of when she last saw them.  All that remained was the residue of a time once owned, but subsequently lost.

And here she sat now.  Alone in the Icelandic cabin she had bought all those years ago. 

‘Here I am.’

Her words intruded in on the silence.  She stared at warped oak floors covered in dust and imagined the tiny spiders building their cobweb foundations, safe in the knowledge that no one would ever step on their delicate abodes.

Checking the time on her watch, she saw that 2pm had been and gone.  It did not really matter.  Time had no meaning.  Coldness had seeped into her heart the last year, and it made her care less. 

Trying to understand why this sudden change had overcome her required effort Leonie was not prepared to give.  It arose when the children disappeared. At times when this coldness hit, she could not get out of bed.  Doctor Leonie Tomkins, a senior executive of an international company, who had spoken at world respected conferences and in front of political figures, had found remembering to get a shower a mammoth task.

Short term memory served no purpose.  Swathes of nothingness hampered her ability to remember.  Simple things like getting a pint of milk, or setting the alarm for the morning became unimportant.  She had found herself apologising, always apologising, for forgetting the minor details.  She never used to forget anniversaries.

This alien feeling had cut a hole in her being.  The doctor had told her to take medication.  She had done so, until it stopped her feeling.  How was she supposed to get better when all she wanted was to feel again?

Sighing, she checked her watch a second time. 2.05pm. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she stared at her ski jacket draped over a kitchen stool.

‘Now or never.’

Jumping, she grabbed the jacket and forced her arms through puffy material tubes.  She zipped it over clothing that had not been changed for two days.  One achievement she was not prepared to lose was this one - leaving the cabin daily. 

At first, it had been a struggle.  But she knew she was safe. 

There was no one there to watch her fall. 

Leonie had screamed with anger at first, stamping on the floor, indignant that such a simple task could cause her so much anxiety.  Once the frustration passed, she often found her hands grubby and wet.  No one had told her it was okay to cry.  

Hand on the door handle; she braced herself for the wind. That was what had woken her the first time from her reverie.  The sheer force pushed the coldness from her heart.

‘Hello world.’  

She still marvelled at the wonderful sight only yards away.  The view had been the catalyst for her purchasing the cabin, all those years ago.  It had never been about the cabin; it was about the island.

A darkened shore of volcanic lava curved in an arch along an icy blue lagoon.  Icebergs sat silent, marooned in their melting tomb, floating toward the gushing sea located further down the beach.

Leonie loved the rawness of it all.  Stuffing her hands into her jacket, she forced herself to move, one step in front of the other, feeling the slope of the ash fall like sand as she sunk her boots into the soft ground.

Walking in strides for a couple of minutes, she stopped to stand by the lagoon.  It looked so beautiful.  Every day, she got to witness this amazing scene yet at night the nothingness returned.  The landscape had never changed; but she had.

Her vision blurred.  Pulling the sleeves down over her hands, she wiped away her tears and held her head high.  She would get through this.

A soft vibrating in her ski pants interrupted her thoughts.  Retrieving her phone, she flicked open the screen.

‘Hello?’

Her voice sounded croaky.  But then she remembered she had not spoken to anyone for over a week.

‘Leonie, it’s me.’

‘Hello.  Hello!  Hello, you.’

‘How are you doing?’

Silence.  It seemed to Leonie like the entire vast landscape spread out before her had warped itself into a message of solitude down the line.

‘Hello? Leonie?’

‘I’m here.’

‘Things not too good, huh?’

Leonie allowed a sigh.

‘I’m… I’m okay.  I just…’

This time stillness arose on the other end of the line.

‘…I just need time.’

‘I’m still here for you, you know.’

Leonie moved the phone away from her mouth so he did not hear her snort.  It had been his idea to send her to the island in the first place.

‘I know.’ 

She thought she sounded convincing. 

‘The kids…’

‘Are gone.  And I am here.’

Another round of silence greeted Leonie’s ear.

‘It’s for the best.’

Leonie did not know what to say to that.  She found herself nodding, as if a vulnerable part of her had just given in, accepting her fate.

‘I love you, Leonie.’

The sound on the line became muffled, and she realised her hand was shaking.  Switching hands, she rubbed her palm against her ski pants, as if to rid the sudden onslaught of bodily betrayal.

‘I know you do.’

‘I’m going to go now.  You know where I am if you need to call.’

Leonie nodded, despite knowing he could not see her.

‘I know.’

She flicked the screen down and replaced it into her trouser pocket.  Time had made their relationship difficult. 

‘Damn it.’

Spotting the cabin in the distance, standing isolated and empty, she decided to end her walk early.

Trudging through blackened grit, she reached the solid oak front door and leaned into it, opening it enough to allow herself inside.  Once in her living room, she discarded any thoughts of starting a fire in the hearth, and instead decided to prepare herself a cup of tea.  From there, she planned to spend the rest of her day huddled up with her thoughts, alone in bed.

A cubbyhole sited on a ledge contained a mattress and warm duvet.  Placing her mug on the edge of the wooden platform, Leonie hoisted herself up the ladder.  She remembered when purchasing the cabin she had found the sleeping arrangements quaint and arty.  Now, she just thought they were inconvenient, if anything, boring.

Unzipping her ski jacket, she pulled her lank copper hair from its bobble and lying down, tucked her legs toward her chest.  Sleep came easily.

Hours, days, could have passed before she woke.  Her mouth tasted acidic dry, and sweat slaked across her thighs.

Kicking off her ski pants, she relished the cool air.  Closing her dark rimmed eyelids, she now struggled to find sleep.  Thirst forced her awake, and groaning, she realised that she had no choice but to visit the kitchen.

Stepping down the ladder, her fingertips glided across the smooth wooden beams.  She did not like putting the lights on in the middle of the night.  Hers was the only cabin for miles, and the thought of all the darkness reigning outside, watching her in the house with the lights on gave her the creeps.  It was safer being part of the darkness. 

Touching the worktops, she fumbled in a cupboard and clasping a tumbler, retrieved it and poured icy fresh water from the tap, sourced from the lagoon.  A shimmer of moonlight edged through the window, depicting shapes in the gloom.  

Turning, she was about to make her way back up the ladder when out the corner of her eye, she saw it.

Light touched the soft, grey dust on the living room floor where she had not stepped foot since her arrival. 

There, in the centre of the room, was a ball.

What was a ball doing there?  She certainly did not remember it being there when she arrived.  Leonie could tell in the dim moonlight glow that it had a red sheen.

Now it was time to switch on the lights.  Comforted by the artificial glare, Leonie peered into the centre of the living room where the red ball sat.  She glanced behind the sofa.  Throwing a sofa cushion at her curtains, she checked to make sure no one was there.  No, she was well and truly alone.

Eyeing the ball, she could not understand how it had gotten into the room.  Certainly, there was no indication it had been kicked in through the window, but then, who would kick a ball through her window?   

Furthermore, the surrounding dust remained untouched.

‘Or perhaps I’m just imagining it,’ she thought. 

It was true though, her mind had become very muddled of late, and she often forgot simple things.  Perhaps the ball had been left by a tourist and she had collected it.

Unnerved, she turned to her front door, and with a gentle click, moved the key in the lock.  This was the first time she had locked her front door here.  But she was just being safe.

Switching off the light, she returned to her ladder, and quickly made her way up the steps.  She did not like the thought of all that empty air underneath her toes, consuming the gaps between each rung. 

Since she had arrived on the island two weeks ago, she had made a conscious decision not to allow her imagination to run away with her.  Taking deep breaths, she decided that despite the red ball, she was not going to start getting paranoid now.

Wrapping the duvet around her bare legs, she pulled it over her head.  Heat seeped into her body again, and her elbows offered protection to her ribs.  Sweat started to seep down her lower back onto the mattress.  Despite this, Leonie refused to move.  Getting back to sleep proved difficult.

The next day, Leonie awoke tired.  She usually enjoyed the sanctity of dreams, keeping her away from the reality of her miserableness, but last night had been particularly trying.

Remembering the appearance of the ball, she moved gingerly to the edge of the loft and looked into the living room.  The ball still sat there, unmoved.

Contented, Leonie put on her ski pants and made her way to the kitchen.  Waiting for the kettle to boil, she stared outside the kitchen window at the blue sky.

Her thoughts drifted to her children.  Two girls, Eloise and Violet. She remembered holding them on the day they were born; amazed that she had created something so beautiful – twice.  Their tiny toes, and their perfect fingers, all wrapped up in two bundles, clasping on to her ring finger, fighting for life.

But now they were gone.  And all that remained was a shell of a life she once had.  Trying to fill it now was impossible, nothing could take their place. How could a person’s life be so full, but then so empty?

She spotted droplets on the draining board, and realised that water fell from her eyes.  She was tired of the constant sadness, the aching pain, the lack of release from her sorrow.

Even he had sent her here.  No one cared.  She often wondered if going back home was ever going to be the right thing to do.  She was sad no matter where she was.  At least here, no one could see her.  But then, not being here, not being anywhere, a place in the ground perhaps, was better for everyone concerned.

Leonie waited for the tears to stop before stirring the boiling water in her tin camping mug.  Her stomach hurt and she realised that despite the lack of hunger pangs, her body told her to eat.  But eating was such a futile action – trying to keep a body working with a broken mind seemed so pointless.

Looking out living room window, she saw a velvety deep-blue sky contrast with earthy volcanic sands.  Pale blue icebergs contrasting against the sky sat dotted along the shore.  Leaning against her kitchen chair, she moved her fingers to her lips and traced a smile.  This was why she loved Iceland.

She locked the door behind her.  Of course, she was not dressed for a long excursion, but the landscape looked so beautiful and untouched, she wanted to be part of its beauty before anyone else. 

Placing her mug into a crevice of tiny pumice stone, she strode toward the shore, feeling the refreshing air rise beneath her long wiry red hair.  Iceland reminded her of something else.  Its land, so new, so unscathed by human intervention, showed her what life could be from the very start.  She wanted that start so much, that willing to end it all in the hope of another chance.

A movement from the corner of her eye caused her to stop. Raising her hand to prevent the sun from distorting her vision, she thought she saw a child’s leg disappear from view.

‘Eloise?’

Leonie knew she sounded ridiculous.  

Moving, she started to make her way up the hill.

Staring upwards she saw a tiny figure scramble to the top.  The figure wore a red duffel coat.

‘ELOISE!’

She recognised that coat.

Children’s laughter greeted her ears.  Kneeling at the top of the hill, she saw in the distance a couple of girls dressed in red coats, their chestnut-red hair flowing in the breeze.

‘Eloise! Violet!’

The two children moved with lightning speed.

Shuddering sobs hurtled over Leonie’s body.  She raised a hand to her forehead and wiped away a mixture of ash and tears from her dirt-ridden face. 

‘ELOISE! VIOLET!’

Leonie screamed their names, but her children ran further away, not hearing her.

Shaking her head, she cried openly, wishing so much for a part of her history to return.  But that part was gone, lost in time forever, etched as a memory and nothing more.

Returning to the cabin, she stomped up the ladder to her bed, still sobbing.  Running her fingers through her greasy hair, exhausted, she collapsed into her bed.  Sleep met her quickly.

Waking after hours, she blinked unseeing at the wooden ceiling.

Was this it now?  Was her mind playing tricks?  Or was it really her girls on that beach?

Leonie’s phone rang.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me.  How are you doing?’

‘I’ve seen them.’

Leonie was quite surprised at her honesty. 

‘Who?’

‘The girls.’

The voice on the line cleared their throat before continuing. 

‘Sorry? Which girls?’

‘Our girls.  I saw them today.  They were on the beach, in their red duffle coats that I bought them that Christmas – you remember – the ones with the fur trim on the hoods.’

A sharp intake of breath on the line echoed in Leonie’s ear.

‘That’s not possible though.’

She laughed.

‘I know! But they’re here! They even left a red ball for me to play with them!’

Leonie suddenly remembered the ball from the night before.  It seemed to make perfect sense.

‘Look, honey.  I… I am a little worried about you.  This was supposed to be a break for you.  I didn’t… I didn’t anticipate things would go downhill further…’

‘But they’re not! Don’t you see – I’m happier here than I’ll ever be at home!’

Leonie reflected that her heart seemed to have completely overruled her head.  Perhaps the coldness that had started there all those months ago had finally taken a permanent hold.

‘I think I need to come and get you, honey.’

‘No.’

‘Promise me, you’ll stay there, until I get there.’

‘No! Don’t you dare come and get me!’

‘Le-.’

Leonie threw the phone against the wall of her bedroom.  It smashed in half onto the wooden floor.

Realising that she only had precious few hours left, Leonie clambered down the ladder.  Pausing, she went to the get the red ball from the lounge, but something caused her to stop in her tracks.

Footprints.

Small, child-like footprints covered the dusty floor of her living room.   They left a trail from the window, then out through the front door.

Bewildered, Leonie stepped outside. The footprints continued in the volcanic lava, down the hill toward the lake. The sun was low on the horizon.  It was later than she thought.

‘I’m coming!’

She grabbed the red ball.

‘I’m coming girls, I’m coming! Wait! Wait for Mummy!’

She started to run. 

Hair streaming.

Still running.

Bare feet crunching on black ash.

Laughter captured.    

***

‘So, sir.  You say that your wife was out here on her own, for what you call, a mental rest?’

Robert Tomkins nodded.

‘She has been very depressed of late.  She always talked of how happy Iceland made her, and my involvement seemed to be hindering her recovery.  So I decided to bring her here, and leave her in the hope it might help give her some perspective.’

‘I see.’

‘And the last time you spoke to your wife?’

‘Was around nine o’clock last night.  She seemed to be having some sort of delusion, which is why I’m here.’

‘What sort of delusion?’

Robert Tomkins paused.

‘Sir.  What sort of delusion?’

‘The thing is Officer; she thought that she had seen our kids out here.  Eloise and Violet.  But as five year olds.’

‘Okay.  And are your kids with you sir?’

Robert shook his head.

‘No.  Both of our children are no longer with us.’

‘Oh. I see.’ 

The officer stopped writing in his notepad.

‘No, no… you don’t understand.  The children left home about a year ago to go to University.  My wife… my wife you see hasn’t been coping very well with their departure, and hasn’t been herself recently…’

‘So, what you’re saying is that your wife couldn’t have seen your children, because they’re now grown up?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So… Mr. Tomkins.  What was she seeing?’

Robert Tomkins shrugged, and ran his fingers through his grey hair.

‘I have no idea.  You tell me Officer… you tell me.’

 ____

Author Note:

For those of you who have been lucky enough to visit Iceland, I can confirm that this was set on the shores of Jokulsarlon.  I visited Iceland last year and toured the country in a 4x4 - it is AMAZING - go and visit the place if you haven't already (and if you have, you'll no doubt want to go back like me!) There is no cabin on the shores of the lagoon I'm afraid, it's completely made up.  Photos are from the tour, including the cabin (in Husavik) where we stayed for a couple of nights.

Follow me @JWilbyPalmer

Author update - you can now purchase my debut novel 'Where Were You When the World Ended?' from the Amazon Kindle store.