To see her again

I thought I saw her. I was on the 730 bus heading north, and I thought I saw her at the stop lights at the corner of Parnell and West. My skin crawled a little, like when you see something you shouldn’t, but I breathed deeply a time or two and the feeling passed.

I went back to reading the National Geographic article on the baby mammoth they’d discovered buried in a mud flat. It was a sad story about how they’d figured out the baby mammoth had been sucked into a mud flow and abandoned by the rest of the herd. I could feel my anger rising so I thought about something else.

When I looked out the window a few minutes later, I thought I saw her again. This time she was coming out of the music store on Parnell. I instantly recognised the swish of her shoulder-length dark hair, although the sunglasses she was wearing were new. I almost jumped off the bus, but it took off at that instant and I was forced to sit back in my seat.

This time my heart stayed in my throat for a long time. I took off my cap and wiped my brow with it. I checked over my shoulder a time or two, which was silly because she was long out of sight.

I rolled up the National Geographic and drummed it against my knee. The kid in front of me looked back with some kind of eye rolling thing, but I gave him a look that turned him smartly around again. However, I did stop the drumming.

I was nearly home when I thought I saw her again. This time she was crossing the park, hurrying along with that easily recognisable stride of hers. I couldn’t remember whether she was wearing the same coat I’d seen on her a few minutes ago.

It really spooked me. I was probably imagining it, but to have seen her three times like that – well, it spooked me.

I got off the bus at the next stop and contemplated going back to the park to confront her. But all things considered that didn’t seem like such a good idea, so I hurried home down the path.

My heart was thumping something fierce. I rushed up the steps and threw my jacket at the hook by the front door. I suddenly realised I must have left the National Geographic on the bus and I slammed my fist into the wall in a rush of fury with myself for that – it was disrespectful of the little mammoth as well as a waste of money.

But I quickly remembered her, and how unnerving it was to see her three times like that. My heart hammered again.

I crept through the house to the back door, eased open the lock and slid outside. I sidled over to where I could see the corner of the garden near the big old tree.

The slight mound was still there, apparently undisturbed. I’d planted some grass seeds a few days ago, but nothing was growing yet.

– Either that, or the soil had been carefully moved and put back again.

I decided I should check. I went to the garden shed and got the spade.

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2 Comments

  1. Welcome to Word Press World, Heather. Your stories are a wonderful contribution to this new world you’ve created!

    Reply
    • hbolstler

       /  April 19, 2012

      🙂 Thank you, Eve. One toe in the water; a splashing body to follow soon.

      Reply

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