Who Is She?

Dear Shell,

Last night I was doing some research for writing tips and ideas. I came across an excerpt from one book (which I'll probably be picking up this weekend) where the author gave several sentences as ideas where you were to pick one then write for 20 minutes. The author said you could change the subject character from male to female, or vice versa, change colors, or change other minor details as long as the main point of the sentence was still there. I wrote down a few of the ideas and decided to try one last night.

Who is She?

She was sitting there at my kitchen table when I came in, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She had long black hair that was braided and fell in a straight line just past her waist. Her dress was a pale blue with a white ribbon along the empire waist and white lace at the edge of her high collar, at the end of each wrist-length sleeve, and most likely along the hem of the dress as well but that part of her was hidden by the table.

She also had the saddest eyes I've ever seen; light green with a hint of tears glistening in them.

I sat across from her, across from this unknown female sitting in my kitchen. She didn't speak to me, she just continued looking at me with those sad, sad eyes while eating her sandwich. I didn't speak to her either, although by now most people would have demanded to know who she was, how she had gotten in, what she was doing there. They may even have called the police to come and take her away. Maybe some would ask why she had made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when there was a perfectly good ribeye steak in the refrigerator waiting to be grilled. Others might even be curious enough to ask her why she was so sad.

I didn't ask any questions though. I simply waited for her to finish eating her sandwich.

She smiled at me after she finished her meal, then stood up and walked out of the kitchen. I could see now that yes, there was white lace at the bottom of her pale blue dress as well. I didn't hear the front door open yet I knew that she had left.

I tried to think of how I would explain my unexpected visitor to others. I guess I would start with, "Well, the ghost was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."



Shell