Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Saturday, October 10, 2009

#184 Bump in the night . . .

Native American traditions say
We cannot tell someone else's story.
We can only tell the stories that belong to us.
Yet I stop in front of this spirit mask
in this glass case
in this museum,

The mothers tell us, “Don't go into the woods alone.
Ghost woman waits for you,
her round mouth cooing,
her long hair drifting pine needles
as she walks
hunched over, singing.

The forest is dark.
I stayed on the beach;
you went into the woods and never returned.

This week's writing prompt comes from Sunday Scribblings.


  1. Mysterious words at the end there. Nicely done.

  2. Beth, this is awesome. I love the meter, love the concept, love the possibilities here. Wow.

  3. Wow, that is really good. Masterful. Thank you for sharing it.

  4. A really sad yet beautiful tale. More please!

  5. very well written and I hope the spirits do not get you for telling tales out of school

  6. This gripped me. So many times I've heard or read that expression about the woods. Lovely tale.

  7. Makes me want to know more about this ghost mother - but from a distance, thank you very much!