Footprints in the dust
on the table and the chairs,
on wooden floors and stairs
are left by little feet,
invisible to everyone but me.
Fingers pinch and flick
my arms, stroke my cheek
and, forbidding me to speak,
coldly press upon my lips
the desiccated taste of dust.
Dents and hollows form
in pillows by my head,
in the mattress on my bed,
in cushions on the sofa,
and the grass under the tree.
A small shadow flickers,
dances on every wall,
chases me down the hall,
gently holds my warm hand
in her cold one when I’m scared.
Kim M. Russell, 6th July 2020
One hundred words written for Lightbox Originals 100 words a day challenge.
writing in north norfolk 
Oh I would be scared I think.
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yes. There she is again. And again.
Brilliant write.
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Thank you, Ron.
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I love the idea of a small ghost flitting about, and holding your hand when you are scared. I think of a loved one, long gone, but still remembered. I have such a ghost – a big black wolf whose absence has become a presence.
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Thank you, Sherry. Your big black wolf is impressive and exciting. I am sometimes visited by the ghost from next door and by our cars that passed. .
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I love this and others of yours already, Kim.
Are you a fan of Frances Bellerby? I was introduced to her work many years ago at uni; at the time I didn’t get it, but I always find myself returning to her again and again as a truly gifted poet. Her short stories may well resonate with you, too. She is criminally underrated in my opinion (with a fascinating back story also).
Nick x
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Thank you so much for reading and commenting, and for introducing me to Frances Bellerby. I’ve already looked her up. 😊
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