I got this really cool and creepy Ghost book at the Library a few weeks ago, I came across this one Chapter called "Topaz" by Ruskin Bond. Not exactly scary, But kind of creepy.
~ Topaz ~
It seemed strange to be listening to the strains of 'The Blue Danube' while gazing out the pine-clad slopesof the Himalayas, worlds apart. And yet the music of waltz seemed singularly appropriate. A light breeze hummed through the pines, and the branches seemed in time to the music. The record-player was new, but the records were old, picked up in a junk-shop behind the Mall. Below the pines there were oaks, and one oak tree paticular caught my eye. It was the biggest of the lot and stood by itself on a little knoll below the cottage. The breeze was not strong enough to lift its heavy old branches. but something was moving, swinging gently from the tree, keeping time to the music of the waltz, dancing . . . It was someone hanging from the tree. A rope oscillated in the breeze. the body turned slowly, turned this way and that, and i saw a face of a girl, her hair hanging loose, her eyes sightless, hands and feet limp, just turning, and turning, while the waltz played. I turned off the player and ran downstairs. Down the path through the trees, and onto the grassy knoll where the big oak stood, A long tailed magpie took fright and dlew out from the branches, swooping low across the ravine. In the tree there was no one, nothing. A great branch extended halfway across the knoll, and it was possible for me to reach up and touch it. A girl could not have reached it without climbing the tree. As i stood there. gazing up into the branches, somone poked behind me. 'What are you looking at?' I Swung around, A girl stood in the clearing, Facing me. A girl of seventeen or eighteen; alive, healthy, with bright eyes abd a tantalizing smile. She was lovley to look at. I hadn't seen such a pretty girl in years. 'You startled me' i said. 'You came up so unexpectedly'. 'Did you see anything--in the tree?' she asked. 'i thought i saw someone from my window. Thats why i came down. did you see anything?' 'No' She shook her head, the smile leaving her face for a moment. 'I dont see anything. but other people do--sometimes' 'What do they see?' ' My sister' 'Your sister?' 'Yes. She hung herself form this tree. It was many years ago. But sometimes you can see her hanging there'. She spoke matter of factly: whatever happend seemed very remote to her. We both moved some distance away from the tree, Above the knoll, on a disused private tennis-court was a small stone bench. She sat down on ir: and after a moment's hesitation, I sat down beside her. 'Do you live close by?" i asked, 'Further up the hill, My father has a small bakery'
She told me her name--Hameeda, She had two younger Brothers.'You must have been quite small when your sister died.' 'Yes. but i remember her, she was pretty' 'Like you' She laughed in disbelief 'Oh, i am nothing to her, You should have seen my sister' ' Why did she kill herself?' 'Because she did not want to live. That's the only reason. no? She was have to been married but she loved somone else, somone who was not of her own community, its an old story, and the ending is always sad, isnt it?' 'Not always, but what happend to the boy--the one she loved? Did he kill himself too?' 'No, he took a job in some other place, Jobs are not east to ger, are they?' 'I dont know. Ive never tired for one' 'Then what do you do?' 'I write stories' 'do people buy stories?' 'why not? Of your father can sell bread. then i can sell stories.' 'People must have bread, They can live without stories' Hameeda! I couldn't help loving her. Just loving her, No fierce desire or passion had taken hold of me. It wasen't like that. I was happy to just look at her, watch her as she sat on the grass outside my cottage, her lips stained with the juice of wild bilberries. She chatted away--About her friends, clothes, and Favourite things. 'Wont you parents mind if you come here everyday?' i asked, 'i have told them what you are teaching me' 'teaching you what?' 'They did not ask, You can tell me stories' So i told her stories, it was midsummer. The sun glited on a ring she wore on her third figer: a translucent golden Topaz. set in silver, 'Thats a pretty ring.' i remarked. 'You wear it' she said. Inpulsivly removing it from hand 'it will give you good thoughts. It will also help you write better stories' she slipped it onto my little finger. 'I'll wear it for a few days, Then you must let me give it back to you' I said
On a day that promised rain i took the oath down to the stream at the bottom of the hill. There i found Hameeda gathering ferns from the shady places along the rocky ledges above the water. 'what will you do with them?' i aked. 'This is a special kind of fern. you can cook as a vegtable.' 'is it tasty?' 'No, But it is good for rheumatism' 'Do you suffer from Rheumatism?' 'Of course not. They are for my grandmother, She is very old' 'There are more ferns further upstream.' i said ' But we'll have to go in the water'. We removed out shoes and began paddling upstream. The ravine because shadier and narrower. until the sun was completly shut out. The ferns grew right down to the water's edge. We bent to pick them but insted found ourselves in Each others arms; and sank slowly, as in a dream, into the soft bed of ferns. while overhead a whistling thrush burst out in dark sweet song. 'It isnt the time passing by. its you and I'
I waited for her the following day. but she did not come. Several days passed without my seeing her. Was she sick? has she been kept at home? had she been sent away? i did not even know where she lived, so i could not ask. and if i was able to ask, What would i have said? Then one day I saw a boy delivering bread and pastires at the little tea-shop about a mile down the road. From the upward slant of his eyes. i cought a slight resemblace of Hameeda. As he left the shop, i followed him up the hill. When i came abreast of him i asked: 'do you have your own bakery?' he nodded cheerfuly. 'Yes, do you want anything--Bread, biscuits, cakes, I can bring them to your house.' 'Of Course, But dont you have a sister? A girl called Hameeda?' His expression changed, He was no longer friendly. He looked puzzled and slightly apprehensive. 'why do you want to know?' 'I havent seen her for sometime' ' We have not seen her either.' 'Do you mean she has gone away?' 'Didn't you know? You must have been away for a long time. It has been many years. She killed herself, You did not hear about it?' 'But wasent that her sister--your other sister?' 'I only had one sister--Hameeda--and she died. when i was very young, its an old story ask someone else about it' He turned away and Quickend his pace, and I was left standing in the middle of the road, my head full of questions that couldnt be ansewerd
That night there was a thunderstorm. My bedroom window kept banging in the wind, I got up to close it and as i looked out, there was aflash of lightning. and i saw that frail body again. Swinging from the oak tree. I tried to make out the features. but the head hung down and the hair was blowing in the wind. Was it all a dream? It was inpossible to say. But the Topaz on my hand Glowed softly in the darkness. And a wisper from the forest seemed to say, 'Its not the time passing by, Its you and I.'
*The End*
Love that story, Thats the longest Post i have ever posted before, Enjoy you'r Chillbumps!!
~ Topaz ~
It seemed strange to be listening to the strains of 'The Blue Danube' while gazing out the pine-clad slopesof the Himalayas, worlds apart. And yet the music of waltz seemed singularly appropriate. A light breeze hummed through the pines, and the branches seemed in time to the music. The record-player was new, but the records were old, picked up in a junk-shop behind the Mall. Below the pines there were oaks, and one oak tree paticular caught my eye. It was the biggest of the lot and stood by itself on a little knoll below the cottage. The breeze was not strong enough to lift its heavy old branches. but something was moving, swinging gently from the tree, keeping time to the music of the waltz, dancing . . . It was someone hanging from the tree. A rope oscillated in the breeze. the body turned slowly, turned this way and that, and i saw a face of a girl, her hair hanging loose, her eyes sightless, hands and feet limp, just turning, and turning, while the waltz played. I turned off the player and ran downstairs. Down the path through the trees, and onto the grassy knoll where the big oak stood, A long tailed magpie took fright and dlew out from the branches, swooping low across the ravine. In the tree there was no one, nothing. A great branch extended halfway across the knoll, and it was possible for me to reach up and touch it. A girl could not have reached it without climbing the tree. As i stood there. gazing up into the branches, somone poked behind me. 'What are you looking at?' I Swung around, A girl stood in the clearing, Facing me. A girl of seventeen or eighteen; alive, healthy, with bright eyes abd a tantalizing smile. She was lovley to look at. I hadn't seen such a pretty girl in years. 'You startled me' i said. 'You came up so unexpectedly'. 'Did you see anything--in the tree?' she asked. 'i thought i saw someone from my window. Thats why i came down. did you see anything?' 'No' She shook her head, the smile leaving her face for a moment. 'I dont see anything. but other people do--sometimes' 'What do they see?' ' My sister' 'Your sister?' 'Yes. She hung herself form this tree. It was many years ago. But sometimes you can see her hanging there'. She spoke matter of factly: whatever happend seemed very remote to her. We both moved some distance away from the tree, Above the knoll, on a disused private tennis-court was a small stone bench. She sat down on ir: and after a moment's hesitation, I sat down beside her. 'Do you live close by?" i asked, 'Further up the hill, My father has a small bakery'
She told me her name--Hameeda, She had two younger Brothers.'You must have been quite small when your sister died.' 'Yes. but i remember her, she was pretty' 'Like you' She laughed in disbelief 'Oh, i am nothing to her, You should have seen my sister' ' Why did she kill herself?' 'Because she did not want to live. That's the only reason. no? She was have to been married but she loved somone else, somone who was not of her own community, its an old story, and the ending is always sad, isnt it?' 'Not always, but what happend to the boy--the one she loved? Did he kill himself too?' 'No, he took a job in some other place, Jobs are not east to ger, are they?' 'I dont know. Ive never tired for one' 'Then what do you do?' 'I write stories' 'do people buy stories?' 'why not? Of your father can sell bread. then i can sell stories.' 'People must have bread, They can live without stories' Hameeda! I couldn't help loving her. Just loving her, No fierce desire or passion had taken hold of me. It wasen't like that. I was happy to just look at her, watch her as she sat on the grass outside my cottage, her lips stained with the juice of wild bilberries. She chatted away--About her friends, clothes, and Favourite things. 'Wont you parents mind if you come here everyday?' i asked, 'i have told them what you are teaching me' 'teaching you what?' 'They did not ask, You can tell me stories' So i told her stories, it was midsummer. The sun glited on a ring she wore on her third figer: a translucent golden Topaz. set in silver, 'Thats a pretty ring.' i remarked. 'You wear it' she said. Inpulsivly removing it from hand 'it will give you good thoughts. It will also help you write better stories' she slipped it onto my little finger. 'I'll wear it for a few days, Then you must let me give it back to you' I said
On a day that promised rain i took the oath down to the stream at the bottom of the hill. There i found Hameeda gathering ferns from the shady places along the rocky ledges above the water. 'what will you do with them?' i aked. 'This is a special kind of fern. you can cook as a vegtable.' 'is it tasty?' 'No, But it is good for rheumatism' 'Do you suffer from Rheumatism?' 'Of course not. They are for my grandmother, She is very old' 'There are more ferns further upstream.' i said ' But we'll have to go in the water'. We removed out shoes and began paddling upstream. The ravine because shadier and narrower. until the sun was completly shut out. The ferns grew right down to the water's edge. We bent to pick them but insted found ourselves in Each others arms; and sank slowly, as in a dream, into the soft bed of ferns. while overhead a whistling thrush burst out in dark sweet song. 'It isnt the time passing by. its you and I'
I waited for her the following day. but she did not come. Several days passed without my seeing her. Was she sick? has she been kept at home? had she been sent away? i did not even know where she lived, so i could not ask. and if i was able to ask, What would i have said? Then one day I saw a boy delivering bread and pastires at the little tea-shop about a mile down the road. From the upward slant of his eyes. i cought a slight resemblace of Hameeda. As he left the shop, i followed him up the hill. When i came abreast of him i asked: 'do you have your own bakery?' he nodded cheerfuly. 'Yes, do you want anything--Bread, biscuits, cakes, I can bring them to your house.' 'Of Course, But dont you have a sister? A girl called Hameeda?' His expression changed, He was no longer friendly. He looked puzzled and slightly apprehensive. 'why do you want to know?' 'I havent seen her for sometime' ' We have not seen her either.' 'Do you mean she has gone away?' 'Didn't you know? You must have been away for a long time. It has been many years. She killed herself, You did not hear about it?' 'But wasent that her sister--your other sister?' 'I only had one sister--Hameeda--and she died. when i was very young, its an old story ask someone else about it' He turned away and Quickend his pace, and I was left standing in the middle of the road, my head full of questions that couldnt be ansewerd
That night there was a thunderstorm. My bedroom window kept banging in the wind, I got up to close it and as i looked out, there was aflash of lightning. and i saw that frail body again. Swinging from the oak tree. I tried to make out the features. but the head hung down and the hair was blowing in the wind. Was it all a dream? It was inpossible to say. But the Topaz on my hand Glowed softly in the darkness. And a wisper from the forest seemed to say, 'Its not the time passing by, Its you and I.'
*The End*
Love that story, Thats the longest Post i have ever posted before, Enjoy you'r Chillbumps!!
