Photograph entitled Haunted © by John D. Stanton 2006 www.3AMBlue.com.
Premonition
by Peggy Le Johnson © 2006
I don’t know what it was that drew my attention to the old black and white photograph. It was a huge old brick house, the few trees around it looked weather worn and bare, but it stuck in my mind. I printed up a copy of it and laid it on my desk, then went on to bed; was going to be a long drive to work tomorrow.
Five a.m. rolled around sooner than I wished, I dressed and headed down to the car in the garage. There was hardly any traffic thank goodness and I made it through the usually busy streets in record time. I could see the faint glow of the sunrise peeking through the trees and decided to take a break rather than drive into the glare. Exiting on old Route two, I looked for anywhere to stop and get a quick breakfast.
I was very glad no one was behind me; slamming on the brakes, I could not believe my eyes; it was the house. Pulling over, gently rolling to a stop I shut off the key. Of course, it really wasn’t in black and white now, more like a brick red, with windows dull and dirty. The tree stood right where it did in the photo. I grabbed my briefcase and quickly fumbled for the print up. It was the same except now the edges of the photo seemed faded. It was if the all four corners of the print up were disappearing.
The sky began to grow darker now and I could see storm clouds moving in from the north. It cast a gray shadow over the ancient structure. I looked down again at the photo and I could actually see the fading cover more and more of the picture. Laying the picture on the seat, I turned the key and started the car. Had to be a bad batch of ink, I thought to myself. I spied a small coffee shop a block up and parked out front. Taking my handbag and the picture, I went inside. The waitress smiled and I ordered a coffee.
Looking down at the photo, more and more of the old house disappeared until I could barely make out what it was. She sat my coffee down and touched the picture with her pencil “Oh I know that place, its old Mrs. Watson’s house. Why does it look so faded anyway?”
I shook my head in response smiled and handed her a couple dollars. “Must be some bad ink I guess. How long as she lived there anyway?”
She pocketed the cash; ”Oh for as long as anybodies lived around here I guess. She’s pretty crippled now, doesn’t get out much anymore.” I took a sip of the hot coffee and nodded; the picture now began to have an eerie red glow about it, like small flames inching their way across the bottom and up to the top dormer. Just then, a loud crack of thunder followed by a brilliant light shook the building. The picture now had dancing red flames across it and I could see a face. Tired small screaming from a window. I even imagined that I could actually smell smoke. The waitress went about her work.
My heart began to race as if something was actually wrong. Picking up my handbag and the photo I felt an urgency I just couldn‘t explain. Standing on the sidewalk, I looked down the street at the old house. Then I saw it, a gray whisp of smoke. It crept out onto the sidewalk in front of the old place. I felt the urge to run towards the brick home, the smoke curled around my feet.
Scanning the windows, I saw her, her face was distorted and she looked as if she was crying. I ran for the front door and tried to push it open. It was locked from the inside. Now I could hear her pleading for help, a pitiful cry of a woman with barely breath to make a noise. I looked around the ground and spotted a rock and threw it through the glass of the door, smoke billowed out around me. Reaching through I unlocked it and rushed through the hall to the room where I thought I had seen her face. I kicked at the door and finally it creaked open; there she was kneeling at the window, small frail old and afraid. Without a second thought, I picked her up and worked my way through the smoke back into the front yard. I could hear sirens now. Behind me smoke and flames engulfed the hallway.
She lay there in my arms and smiled up at me; “I don’t know how you found me sweet heart but God bless you!”
The paramedic made his way to us and gently lifted her to a stretcher. I watched as they gallantly battled the fire.
Slowly I made my way back to the car and sat silently in the driver’s seat; I was going to be late and I knew it. But for some reason it didn’t matter; I looked down at the print out of the old house, it was crisp and new again. Not a fade mark anywhere on it.
Now, I’m not sure how to explain any of this at all. Why did I print that picture up? Why did I pick this exit to stop and have breakfast? I’ll never know the answer, but I’m glad I did. Maybe we get signs all our life. Maybe some of us are lucky enough to listen. Who knows…?
