Tea Party with a Ghost

Emily Fox
2 min readOct 21, 2019
Photo Credit: Ray Bilcliff

A writing prompt from Tim Clare’s Couch to 80k Writing Bootcamp inspired this story. The prompt was: Breach the veils between worlds. Someone is waiting to speak with you. Tune in to this person’s appearance. Approach them and see what they want.

Figerella, she called herself. She had a light brown skin and dark hair. The hair was somewhere between a curl and a wave, a bit wiry, but lovely dark curls nonetheless which framed her pretty little stoic face. She sat pensively in the sand on the shore of the beach, her frilly, short blue dress getting dusty in the sand as she kneaded her toes in and out of the soft beige granules.

I saw her eyes glance up at me as I approached, slowly, tentatively, not wanting to disrupt or scare her. She didn’t look scared though, not at all, either from her personal confidence or perhaps she could sense that I harbored no ill will towards her whatsoever.

As I got closer to her, the sound of my feet as they waded through the sand, the waves lapping at the shore, she kept her head down, clearly deep in thought but also a look on her face which acknowledged my presence. I looked around, noticing no one nearby the little girl and sat down next to her, part of curiosity, part out of an instinct to protect her.

As I sat down, I saw what she was tracing in the damp sand. A silly little picture, a table, a simple stick figure girl in a dress that appeared to be having a tea with what must have been a stuffed animal. “That’s lovely,” I said aloud, not meaning to immediately comment, and wanting to have at least greeted her at first. I looked up at her sweet face, offering a small smile.

“Hello,” she said demurely, returning the small smile. “I’m drawing,” she said. The way she said it though, I took as an invitation.

“May I?” I asked, my right index finger already poised to make an addition to her artwork.

“Yes,” she said sweetly, stopping to let me bring in my creative additions. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs as she watched me.

I drew the floor, a window behind the girl, a potted plant, and a plate of cookies on the table. After a moment of thought, I added a kitten at the foot of the girl. “I think she’d offer a piece of cookie to the kitten. What do you think?” I asked.

“I think so,” she agreed. “But first she would give her a corner of her tuna finger sandwich, then offer the cookie as dessert.”

Just then the sky began to darken, clouds overhead crowding over the afternoon sun.

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