The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

Leticia’s Spirit
by Kim Richards 

She was a portrait hanging on the dark wall. Inky black and ivory white gave her clothing and hat traces of shapes while her skin and the whites of her eyes looked like a porcelain doll. White, smooth, flawless.

Then she moved, becoming alive before me. She turned her head, slowly, deliberately and met my gaze with hers.

“Who…who are you?” I whispered, fearing she might vanish if I dared speak louder.

Her reply came equally as quiet and moreso ethereal. “Leticia.”

She let out a deep sigh and then asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Ilene. Your great-great granddaughter.” Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I continued, “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Her eyes darkened and the corners of her mouth turned downward so I felt compelled to continue. “I mean…this place was neglected over the years and left to its own decay. I wanted to explore it before…” I hesitated, unwilling to say the words. She said them for me. “Before it is all demolished.”

I wanted to reach out to her, touch her pale hands, and comfort her. She may have sensed my thoughts because she tucked her hands into the pocket folds of her skirt. “What will happen to you? Are you tied to this place?”

Leticia smiled wistfully. Her gaze scanned the room, drinking in the state of it. I wondered if her memories were pleasant.

“I hope to vanish along with the wood and debris. Truthfully, I have no idea what will happen to me.” She sighed again. “Thus was the story of my life.”

“How so?” I asked. “I know you came from money and were a mail order bride. I’ve always wondered how the two co-existed. I’d think you could use that money to do what you please.”

Her laughter tinkled like shards of glass falling from a broken mirror. Sharp and light.

“Oh, you take your freedoms for granted. I was born into a wealthy family, that’s true. Whether I had money of my own came and went at the whims of my father. Depending on which way his hand turned, it gifted me as often as it drew blood…or worse.”

I stepped a little closer. “So, he sold you into marriage?”

Her lips drew into a broad smile. “Heavens no. I did that myself.” She ran her slender fingertips across her cheeks. “It was either that or stab him in his sleep. I chose the option which would humiliate him most.”

As I gaped at her, she continued, “I’ll tell you my secret though. After I filled my trunks with my dresses and as many new ones as I could get, I took Mother’s jewelry and left. I knew the mail order money would be mine as soon as I reached the train and my letter to the New Ladies Society, about why I could no longer attend tea, would be read. Gossip can be a wonderful tool!

“I didn’t leave without saying good-bye, though not in so many words. I placed a new bottle amongst Father’s treasured whiskeys. This one had a special tincture added. A year later, I learned of his demise via a telegram.”

We sat together in silence a few moments. Then she asked, “How long until the demolition?”

“Three days.”

“Will you stay with me until then?”

“Absolutely I will.”

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Fiction © Copyright Kim Richards
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com