The present

Karen looked out the window. She could see Chester coming across the lawn. He had a present. He often brought presents. She sighed and wiped the suds from her hands. Not again….

The move to the country had been draining for both of them. There had been three moves in four years--first the house, then the apartment, and now this place in the country with 5 acres. The apartment had been nice and big. They had lived there alone, developing quite a rapport. When the apartment building was sold and they were evicted, it was devastating. But that was behind them now. There were finally settling in to country life.

The property bordered a small marshy area, where they could hear peepers in the spring. The first time she noticed the sound, she had no idea what it was. She had even called her mom and held the phone out the window, both of them wondering at the cascade of sound.

The same thing happened with the birds. They were very different from the city birds. She loved watching them. She loved listening to them in the early mornings. When she couldn’t sleep in the depth of the night, she would lay awake eavesdropping on the conversations of the Great Horned Owls. She would try to pick out the different bird songs. She went out and bought 3 different kinds of birdfeeders. She loved the birds. Chester loved the birds too.

Chester loved all of the outdoors. He loved the woodland creatures. He loved roaming the property. He loved napping in the shade of the trees. The outdoors was so much more interesting than the indoors. He was happy. When he came back from his jaunts, he often brought something back.

Karen opened the door and stepped outside to see what it was this time. She saw something brown. Crap. It was a bird. Huh. It was a full grown robin! How had he caught it?

“Come here, honey. Let me see.” Chester came up to her. There was a gleam in his eyes. He burbled with happiness. As she bent down to see, she noticed that the robin’s eyes were open. The robin blinked at her. It did not struggle, but lay quietly. She carefully, pried opened Chester’s mouth and the robin flew off, unhurt. The robin sat in the tree across the lawn and started preening. Chester glared at Karen lashing his tail. Karen raised her finger and tenderly bopped him on the nose. “Don’t bring anymore presents!”
He was a pain, but she loved him dearly. Bending, she stroked him from head to tail before picking him up and carried him back inside. There were dishes to finish. The view of the robin still busily cleaning his feathers was the best present. She stood for a moment with Chester in her arms and smiled at the robin. Then she closed the door.

The Gray Ghost

Sarah started at the sound. She held her breath, straining to hear more. She was uneasy, almost scared. She was alone in the house; everyone had gone. But, she could feel someone. There seemed to be voices that were just beyond her hearing. But that was impossible. She had checked every wardrobe, under the beds, even the cellar. Nothing. And besides, she rationalized; no one came out this far into the country. But she was still edgy.

She moved the curtain, peering out at the empty fields for the third time. It was cold, barren and dreary. The fog that had rolled in over night was now so thick she could barely see beyond the yard and into the field. Her eye caught a movement in the fog. There was a stirring--in the fog--of the fog. It was hard to determine which. The waves of mist billowed gently across the field. She looked up but did not see any movement in the trees. If there was no wind, then how was the fog moving?

When she looked back down, a gray shape sliced its way through the fog right at the edge of the field. She stared. She had never seen a marsh hawk so close. She watched it fly away, the white rump glowing before being swallowed up. The fog swirled around in the bird’s wake, and then closed in again.

Sarah slumped against the wall. “I should be doing something,” she thought. “Why did I come in here?” She had been oddly distracted since the summer. If she could only figure out what was wrong, maybe she could get on with her work—-not feel so anxious. Not feel so worn out. She looked out the window for a few moments. What is wrong with me? She got up and glided out the door.

Nina stared out at the swirling fog. Her aunt had disappeared, again. She shivered, there was something creepy about this house, she could feel it. She loved coming to the country and relished the few days she could spend with her aunt. But this time was different some how.

She was tidying the kitchen after lunch when she noticed an old gold ring on the window ledge above the sink. Looking around guiltily, she picked it up and turned it over. It was not her aunt's. It was too small. She slipped it on her pinkie. Who did this belong to, she wondered? She was peering at the inside of the ring, trying to see if there was an inscription, when her aunt came up behind her. She blushed and hurriedly put it back on the ledge.

“Ah,” said her aunt, “I see you have found Sarah’s ring. I've been hoping she will think to look here one day.

Noticing the girl’s blank look, she said, “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?

Well, there is one here, you know.

Her name is Sarah.

And is she searching for her wedding ring.”