Old Blue Eyes

apple orchard pixabay

It was a gorgeous day. The air clean and crisp from the night’s rainfall. Marianne was making a belated welcome breakfast for her nieces who were visiting the farm. Apple pancakes would be just the ticket. Marianne watched the twins descending the spiral staircase, wondering at their differences. For all that they were identical twins, they didn’t look anything alike. They were both delicately built, ginger hair and emerald eyes. That’s where the similarity ended. Feena was fastidious, hair brushed and neatly pulled back in an elaborate french braid, washed and dressed and ready for her day. Teena was … well, not exactly lazy but she seemed completely unaware of her personal appearance. Still in PJs, unwashed, with hair sticking every which way and eyes still swollen with sleepiness.

“Pancakes,” Marianne called to them. The girls both quickened their steps and sat at the table in eager anticipation.

“Girls, would you run out to the apple orchard and bring in a few of the honey crisps for the pancakes?” Marianne asked.

The girls grabbed a basket each and headed towards the garden door. Suddenly Feena pulled up short and stopped her twin with a restraining hand on her arm. She looked out the small window, went to another and looked toward the orchard. She backed up, still holding Teena’s arm.

“Not while he’s out there.” she whispered with as much determination as her 13 years could muster.

“While who’s out there?” Marianne moved to look out the window, peering toward the orchard.

“That creepy looking old man.” Feena and Teena backed farther into the kitchen, away from the windows.

Marianne looked through the window at the old man, resplendant in his victorian era top hat. He stared back at her with a kind of blue-eyed malvolence. “Old Blue Eyes” is what Marianne called him. He was her ghost. Hers in that he came with the house. Thus far Marianne had been unable to rid herself of him. She had tried every trick in her book, smudging, banishing, salt circles, purifications. I mean really, what was a witch to do? The best she had been able to accomplish was to bind him to the old orchard.

Marianne returned the girls baskets to their holders, headed to the freezer. She held up a bag of frozen fruit. “How about blueberry pancakes?”

Written for the following prompts:

The Haunted Wordsmith’s Three Things Challenge:gorgeous, blue-eyed, apple orchard

Daily Prompt – Belated

Ragtag daily prompt – Spiral

Fandango’s One Word challenge – Swollen

Word of the day challenge – Resplendent


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