Ivy hung in a thick shawl over the worn bricks, a waterfall of dark green foliage creeping through the pane-less windows.
Dust, debris, dry rotted wood, cracked and crumbling plaster.
Unstable floorboards. Broken rafters. Empty rooms.
And yet not abandoned.
When he peeled back the present time, the bandage and wrapping of dereliction and decay, the building's heart beat and it breathed again.
There, tucked away in their time space, the strange inhabitants lived their hidden lives. A fire burned with green-tipped flames in the grate as granny sat knitting the long grey woollen sock that seemed to have no end.
The goblin child sat, playing with its glass beads, on the hearthrug.
Old Mister Moon put another crackling tune on the gramophone as granny's needles clacked in rhythm. Outside the window, peering occasionally through the dusty glass, lurked the morlow. Its round sad eyes gazing into the glowing warmth within, for it was a cold night.
They were all here, even in the day time, even this many years later. They never left. They simply tucked themselves away, occupying the space in another time forever.
Sometimes the veil thinned or flickered, and a wisp of ash drifted from an ages-ago fire into shaft of dusty sunlight shining on a long-empty hearthstone. People might have thought it fell through the chimney, but it fell through time.
YOU ARE READING
Fantastic Fragments
Paranormal* an old man captures a moon sprite * a dark witch visits a fairy market * a child takes a ghost train to nowhere Read these strange tales and more in "Fantastic Fragments", a new collection of short stories by mystery writer Edward Turbeville.
