The Ghost In The Orchard: A Bedtime Story

Hello,

Dear ones,

And welcome to today's reading,

The Ghost in the Orchard,

A short story that I wrote as part of a collection.

So,

As always,

Just taking some time to arrive here,

Whatever space you are in.

Maybe you are tucked up in bed ready to sleep,

Or maybe you're just taking some time out of your day to rest and relax.

Wherever you find yourself,

Just taking some deeper,

Longer breaths,

Settling the nervous system,

Getting yourself nice and comfortable as we begin today's story.

The old rocking chair creaked as grandma settled into it.

The dim glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room.

Outside,

The wind whispered through the trees.

A gentle but eerie sound that made the little girl snuggle deeper under the quilt.

Tell me a story,

Grandma,

Whispered Lily,

Her voice thick with sleep,

But her eyes still wide with curiosity.

Grandma smiled,

Reaching out to brush a strand of dark hair from Lily's forehead.

A story,

Hmm?

How about one from when I was a little girl?

Just like you,

Lily nodded eagerly.

Alright then,

Grandma began,

Her voice dipping into that familiar,

Enchanting storytelling tone.

Have I ever told you about the ghost in the orchard?

Lily's eyes widened even more,

But she didn't interrupt.

Grandma took a deep breath.

When I was about your age,

I lived in a small house at the edge of a vast apple orchard.

The trees stretched as far as I could see,

Their branches heavy with fruit in the autumn and bear-like skeletons in the winter.

But there was one tree,

Right in the middle of the orchard,

That no one ever picked from.

Not my father,

Not my mother.

No one dared.

They called it the ghost tree.

Lily shivered and pulled the quilt up to her chin.

Why?

Grandma leaned in,

Her voice dropping to a whisper.

Because at night,

People said they could see a shadowy figure beneath its branches.

A girl,

Dressed in white,

Her hair long and wild,

As if the wind never stopped blowing through it.

She would stand there,

Perfectly still,

Until someone got too close,

And then,

Poof,

She would disappear.

Lily gasped.

Was she real?

Grandma chuckled softly.

Oh,

She was real,

All right.

I saw her myself.

Lily's breath caught.

You saw her?

Grandma nodded.

It was late autumn,

Just like now.

The air was crisp,

And the sky was so clear,

You could see every single star.

I had been helping my father gather the last of the apples before the frost set in.

And as the sun began to set,

I found myself near the ghost tree.

I hadn't realized how far I'd wandered.

At first,

I thought I was alone.

But then the wind shifted,

And suddenly I wasn't so sure.

The air around the tree was different.

Still,

Too still.

Even though the wind rustled the other trees,

The ghost tree didn't move an inch.

And then,

I saw her.

A girl,

No older than me,

Standing beneath the branches.

She wore a white dress,

The fabric fluttering even though there was no breeze.

Her eyes were dark,

Like two deep wells.

And her feet… Grandma paused for effect,

Making Lily hold her breath.

Her feet didn't touch the ground.

Lily clutched the edge of the quilt.

What did you do?

Grandma smiled.

I did something very foolish.

I spoke to her.

Lily's mouth fell open.

You talked to a ghost.

I did.

I don't know why.

Maybe I was too young to be properly afraid.

Or maybe,

Maybe she just didn't seem scary to me.

She looked lonely.

Lily frowned.

What did you say,

Grandma?

I asked her who she was.

And do you know what she said?

Lily shook her head.

She tilted her head,

Just a little,

Like she was trying to remember.

Then,

In the softest voice I had ever heard,

She said,

I don't know.

Lily's eyes widened.

She didn't remember her name.

Grandma shook her head.

No.

She told me she had been there for a long,

Long time.

But she couldn't recall anything from before.

Just that she always found herself standing beneath that tree when the sun went down.

That's so sad,

Lily whispered.

It was,

Grandma agreed.

But I wasn't afraid of her.

I asked her if she wanted to play.

But she only shook her head.

Then,

She looked past me,

Toward the house,

And said something that sent chills down my spine.

What?

Lily breathed.

She said,

You should go now.

He's coming.

Lily's fingers tightened around the quilt.

Who was coming?

Grandma sighed,

Rocking slowly in her chair.

I didn't know.

But the way she said it,

The way her dark eyes flickered with fear,

It made my stomach twist,

It did.

I turned to look behind me.

But there was nothing there.

Just rows and rows of trees.

Their leaves rustling in the wind.

When I turned back to the girl,

She was gone.

Lily swallowed hard.

Did you run?

Grandma chuckled.

Oh,

I ran faster than I had ever run before.

Straight home,

Right into my mother's arms.

I told her everything.

And do you know what she did?

Lily shook her head.

She got very quiet.

Then,

She took my hand and led me to the old bookshelf in the corner of the room.

She pulled down a dusty old book.

One I had never seen before.

It was a journal.

My grandmother's journal.

She flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

And there,

In faded ink,

Was a story.

A story about a girl who had once lived in our house.

Many,

Many years before.

A girl who had gone missing one autumn evening.

Last seen near the orchard.

She had wandered into the trees and never come back.

Her name was Eleanor.

Lily's mouth went dry.

Was she.

.

.

Was she the ghost?

Grandma nodded.

I believe so.

And I think she didn't remember who she was because she had been lost for so long.

Lily was silent for a long moment.

And then asked,

Did you ever see her again?

Grandma hesitated before answering.

Once.

The next evening,

I went back to the orchard.

Only this time,

I brought something with me.

What?

A locket.

My mother had found it in the attic.

Tucked away in a small wooden box.

It belonged to Eleanor,

With her name engraved inside.

I carried it with me as I stood beneath the ghost tree,

Waiting.

When the sun set,

She appeared again.

Just as before.

I held out the locket and told her,

Your name is Eleanor.

You used to live here.

You're not lost anymore.

Lily was holding her breath.

What happened?

The wind picked up.

The leaves rustled.

And Eleanor,

She smiled.

A real warm,

Grateful smile.

And then,

She was gone.

Lily blinked.

Forever?

Grandma nodded.

I never saw her again.

And from that night on,

No one ever spoke of the ghost tree.

It was just another tree in the orchard.

Lily let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Do you think she finally found her way home?

Grandma smiled,

Reaching out to tuck the quilt around Lily's shoulders.

I like to think so.

Lily yawned,

Her eyelids growing heavy.

That was the best story ever.

Grandma chuckled.

Sleep well,

My little one.

And remember,

Sometimes,

Ghosts aren't here to scare us.

Sometimes,

They just need a little help finding their way.

And with that,

She leaned down and kissed Lily's forehead.

Turning off the light.

As she left the room,

The wind outside gave one final whisper,

Rustling through the trees.

And for just a moment,

Lily thought she heard the softest of voices sigh,

Thank you.

Thank you.