Inkling 2025 - Flipbook - Page 12
“It was the golden years of this place;
parties from evening till daylight, picnics by
the sea, rich cheeses, crackers and wine.
That’s when I met Georgo. He had bushy
eyebrows and gentle gardening hands, and
he was gallant, like from a good storybook.
We fell in love, and not long after had a kid
named Kit. Rambunctious, with my dirty
blonde hair and his brown eyes. Kit loved
to make things, especially paper boats. Our
house smelled like pine needles and freshly
washed linen.”
I remember when me and Georgo painted
it pink one summer in ‘89. When I died
they moved, too grief stricken to stay in
the house full of memories. They couldn’t
hear me when I cried that I still loved
them, wailed that I was still there. That
day, I nestled myself deep in the riverbank,
Finally, she breaks the silence:
“My… name is Mabel.”
“...Licia.” My voice isn’t my own.
“Are you a ghost?”
“Yes, surely.”
“Why would you choose to live... here?”
My heart throbbes. She doesn’t know how
wonderful this island can be. I had forgotten,
too. Why am I afraid?
I’m resolved.
I take a breath, and tell her my story.
“I was middle aged when I died. I wasn’t
in my 30’s, or living a teenage dream. But
growing up on this little island, I thought I
would live forever. We all did.”
12 | INKLING 2025
