The Willow Tree

Chapter 5: Intangible Muse

I recently moved out into the country on my own. It has been a quiet and relaxing experience for the most part, but lonely. Aside from my insomnia I really can't complain. The days pass by slowly as I try to write my next manuscript, however, that isn't my biggest concern at the moment. Living on my own wasn't going to be an easy adjustment, and when you add in a willow tree that seems to be a meeting place for ghosts, well that makes things... interesting to say the least.

Seated at my computer, I mulled over the opening paragraph to my newest story. I liked it, but my body was anxious. At night was when the ghosts would come out and give me more ideas, however, I didn't want to wait.

Procrastination was getting the better of me more often than before. My ideas for stories were still plenty, yet starting them and building on them was the most difficult part lately. Prior manuscripts made my most recent work look like a fading fire in a dark forest. What once burned brightly and kept me warm had now nearly died out to glowing, orange embers. I needed kindling to bring the roaring fire back to life; these ghostly encounters seemed like the perfect opportunity, so I didn't want to miss a single one.

I continued to write a basic outline for the story on paper as I walked around the house. The notebook in my hand felt better than sitting at a computer, staring into a screen that eventually made my eyes burn. Being mobile helped with the blood flow as more ideas for the timeline and chapters began to emerge. A solid story was developing, one that was gaining more and more momentum as I paced the halls and rooms.

Opening the front door, I walked outside and leaned on the railing of the porch. Notebook in one hand, pen in the other, I stood there, peering out at the vibrant colours of my property: green grass, trees in the distance, rich brown dirt, red-winged black birds, and of course the willow tree. Spring had arrived so swiftly that the cold memories of winter had been completely forgotten. It was welcoming and most wanted. As much as I enjoyed being inside writing during the cold winter months, summer was when I could recharge myself.

Eyes closed, I inhaled the gently blowing wind. It felt cool on my face, refreshing. As I kept my eyes closed, I recalled the two nights I had already encountered ghosts. I even imagined what could possibly come next based on what I had seen so far. A little girl, then a raging man, who may have been chasing after the girl for all I knew. Perhaps the next one would be the girl again, except older, matured into a woman, who was trying to deal with what happened in her past. Speculate as I may, night would show signs of its arrival in a few hours as I prepared dinner. Once I ate and cleaned up, the only thing I had left to do was wait.

As I stood by the front window, I could see the stars beginning to pierce the night sky in the distance beyond the line of trees. Both other times ghosts had appeared late at night, so I grabbed my most recent reading material – a book called The Shack – and began to read as I waited in my chair.

Checking my wrist watch periodically, I paid close attention to what time it was, checking out the window in intervals of an hour. Each time, however, I saw nothing. I had never camped out in wait like this before, so I reminded myself not to get too anxious.

"If they show, they show..." I mumbled to myself, flipping the paperback open again as I returned to my midway point in the book.

By the time it was midnight, I had read so much of the book that I didn't want to put it down. The story drew me in, just like the beings visiting the willow tree. I forced myself to stop at the end of the next chapter, slid the bookmark in, then placed it on the nightstand next to me.

Standing up, I stretched, then yawned. My body was stiff from sitting for so long, so I headed toward the front door for a walk to the tree. I assumed a ghost would be there, but as I closed the door behind me, I saw no signs of the afterlife. My shoes kept a steady pace as I went from cement to stone, then to grass.

The closer I stepped, the more disappointed I became. It seemed that there would be no visitors tonight, which was a big letdown considering I was now relying on them for inspiration to aid in writing my newest story.

White light began to appear from behind the tree as I stepped closer, revealing the ghost had been out of sight the entire time. She was sitting with her head down on her knees, long hair covering her arms. I stopped next to her, then waited. There was no telling how long she had been sitting there for, so I remained patient.

Eventually she looked up, first to the right toward me, then to the left. She took no notice of me as she repeated the process, then slowly got to her feet. As she walked away from me, she disappeared into the night as if she were smoke.