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A GHOST AT
THE OLD PRISON
As I turned left onto Elm Road suddenly the lower torso of an opaque, alabaster hued male walked briskly in front of my car from the right, aiming toward the spot in the stone wall in front of the prison where it drops low.
The apparition was reversed like a film negative, dark was white, and exposed a short, skinny man fading to nothing above the waist and below the ankles. The image of his baggy trousers was so sharp that I could see that they were made of natural fibers, puckered, puffy, and un-ironed. With no cars behind me or oncoming headlights, I was free to slow to a crawl. I gazed down at the
dashboard clock. The time was 8:10 p.m. Then I glanced back. The apparition was gone.
Perhaps this was a long, gone escapee for the evening hurrying back before roll call, memorializing the anniversary of his return or of his death -- but why?
© Medium Gail, MediumGail.com
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