{"id":348,"date":"2017-08-20T15:26:01","date_gmt":"2017-08-20T15:26:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/?p=348"},"modified":"2022-10-26T10:36:53","modified_gmt":"2022-10-26T10:36:53","slug":"mirage","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/mirage\/","title":{"rendered":"Mirage"},"content":{"rendered":"

by Joe Stanley<\/span><\/p>\n

THAT HARES MULTIPLY RAPIDLY and voraciously assaulted the garden prompted me to suggest that some sport might be had in culling their numbers. Grandfather, a judge and councilman, had no time (or energy due to his advanced age) but eagerly nodded in approval.<\/span><\/p>\n

The next morn, I was dressed and outfitted for a long hike around the grounds. With shotgun tucked under my arm and a pouch full of shells, I crept along the bordering forest in search of the long-eared vermin.<\/span><\/p>\n

With but a few potshots, I had driven them deeper into the woods. Finding a narrow game trail, I stalked them into the trees. The deeper I went, the thicker the trunks became and I found myself quickly beyond sight of the house.<\/span><\/p>\n

The dry leaves crackled beneath my feet, echoing through the stand. I felt as alone as I have ever known. But something drove me on, around the twisted trunks, through the shrubs and up and down the contours of the forest floor.<\/span><\/p>\n

At last, I broke through a wall of clawing thorns into a field of long, swaying grass. I could see a great house of soft gray stone. The windows were dark, but on a balcony I caught sight of an exquisite beauty.<\/span><\/p>\n

She wore a crimson gown, accented with gleaming lace. Her golden honey hair spilled down in curled luxurious locks. She stared to the west, toward the sea, as if beyond the horizon itself.<\/span><\/p>\n

Though I hallooed and waved, she paid me no heed. I drifted closer, finding her more beautiful with each step. I was smitten by the softness of her features, by the brooding depth of her attention.<\/span><\/p>\n

I confess a burning jealousy of whatever could command her gaze.<\/span><\/p>\n

But in that angelic countenance, I discerned sadness and even despair. Though I yearned to call again, some strange sense of reverence forced me to silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

I lingered in that state unaware of all else.<\/span><\/p>\n

My name rang out from the forest behind snapping me from my trance. The hour had grown late. Turning back to her, I saw with a sinking heart that she had vanished.<\/span><\/p>\n

Likewise, I reluctantly went back the way I came.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You gave us quite the scare,” chided grandfather, but, when I explained, his face took on touches of genuine discomfort. When I had finished, he paused for a moment.<\/span><\/p>\n

“My boy,” he began. “You saw no such thing. It was but the setting ruby sun reflected in what glass may remain. The golden hair but its flaring corona…”<\/span><\/p>\n

I did not understand.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know the place of which you speak,” he explained, “and none have lived there for centuries.”<\/span><\/p>\n

After supper, a restless night awaited me. I was haunted by her face and the features I recalled so clearly. The sun was rising before I found sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

Late the next afternoon, I woke to a work crew constructing a wall along the forest.<\/span><\/p>\n

Grandfather assures me it will keep the hares out.<\/span><\/p>\n

-end-<\/span><\/p>\n

back to previous episode<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a0 forward to next episode<\/a><\/p>\n

back to list of stories<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

by Joe Stanley THAT HARES MULTIPLY RAPIDLY and voraciously assaulted the garden prompted me to suggest that some sport might be had in culling their numbers. Grandfather, a judge and councilman, had no time (or energy due to his advanced age) but eagerly nodded in approval. The next morn, I was dressed and outfitted for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[113],"tags":[8,140],"class_list":["post-348","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-joe-stanley","tag-joe-stanley","tag-mirage"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=348"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2755,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/348\/revisions\/2755"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=348"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=348"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonathanharker.co.uk\/theghostlyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=348"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}