To see her again (by Heather)

Begin your story with: “I thought I saw…”

I thought I saw her. I was on the 730 bus heading north, and I thought I saw her waiting at the stop lights at the corner of Parnell and West. My skin crawled a little, as it does when you see something you shouldn’t, but I breathed deeply a time or two and the feeling passed.

I went back to reading the National Geographic article on the baby mammoth they’d discovered buried in a mud flat. It was a sad sad story about how they’d figured out the baby mammoth had been sucked into a mud flow and abandoned by the rest of the herd. I could feel a tear welling so I thought about something else.

When I looked out the window a few minutes later, I thought I saw her again. This time she was coming out of the music store on Parnell. I instantly recognised the swish of her shoulder length dark hair, although the sunglasses she was wearing were new. I almost jumped off the bus, but it took off at that instant and I was forced to sit back in my seat.

This time my heart stayed in my throat for a long time. I took off my baseball cap and wiped my brow with it. I checked over my shoulder a time or two, which was silly because she was long out of sight.

I rolled up the National Geographic and drummed it against my knee. The woman in front of me looked back with some kind of mincy eye rolling thing, but I gave her a look that turned her smartly around again. However, I did stop the drumming; I didn‘t like the attention.

I was nearly home when I thought I saw her again. This time she was crossing the park, hurrying along with that easily recognisable stride of hers. I couldn’t remember whether she was wearing the same coat I’d seen on her a few minutes ago.

It really spooked me. I was probably imagining it, but to have seen her three times like that, well, it spooked me.

I got off the bus at the next stop and considered going back to the park to confront her. But all things considered that didn’t seem like such a good idea, so I hurried home down the path.

My heart was thumping something fierce. I rushed down the steps and threw my jacket at the hook by the front door. I suddenly realised I must have left the National Geographic on the bus and I felt a rush of fury with myself for that - it was disrespectful of the little mammoth as well as a waste of money.

But I quickly remembered her, and how unnerving it was to see her three times like that. My heart hammered again.

I walked quietly through the house to the back door, eased open the lock and slid outside. I crept over to where I could see the corner of the garden near the big old tree.

The slight mound was still there, apparently undisturbed. I’d planted some grass seeds there a few days ago, but nothing was growing yet.

-- Either that, or the soil had been carefully moved and put back again.

I decided I should check. I went to the garden shed and got the spade.

Alternate titles:
I thought I saw her
The spookiest thing
The ride home