Today I offer up a Thanksgiving slice of WIDOW'S TALE...
"Are you okay?" He whispered.
With a feeble smile, Serena managed, "Do I look it?"
No, she didn’t. Serena’s lips were blue, her skin pallid, and her breathing seemed too shallow to suit him, but she resisted his hold and attempted to sit up.
"Lay down," Brett ordered. "You have nowhere you need to be right now. Just rest."
Anxious, Serena’s glance searched the living room. "How do you know what needs to be done?" She argued. "I have plenty of things that have to be addressed right now. I need to turn on more lights."
"They can wait," Brett challenged, but released his grip on Serena’s arm.
"Please," Serena sat up fully, facing off with him.
Serena’s eyes dropped to Brett’s lips for a split second before she continued in hushed urgency. "Please, Brett, let me get up, I have to—I have to—" she stammered, "it’s dark in here."
Brett stayed fixed, his arm across the back of the loveseat, a physical barricade that prevented Serena from rising. He studied the warm glow of the antique lantern, and the blaze of the fireplace. The lighting was nearly intimate.
Perhaps she was right. Maybe they needed more lights. Brett’s eyes returned to Serena’s face.
"There’s enough." His voice was husky.
"No."
Serena touched his arm as if to cast it aside, and froze when a footfall sounded behind her.
Brett’s head snapped. He searched the shadows beyond Serena. Heavy footsteps paced across the floorboards, pausing as if indecisive what trek to take—then resumed with determination towards the front door.
"What the hell?"
Jumping up to intersect the path of the intruder, Brett heard the steady tread before him. Then as if the figure passed directly through his body, the steps continued past Brett, out the open doorway.
"Stay right there!" He yelled over his shoulder while plunging through the door.
The wind slammed it shut behind him.
Serena clutched her arms about her. She stared at the door, willing it to open again. She willed Brett to return and not leave her alone for the next ghost. Its chilling cries were more haunting than the doleful steps of a man she could not mourn.