Eleanor, Eleanor Carter

Through haunted alleyways, amidst hoary gable-windowed and garret-roofed houses, I saw her for the first time. From then on, I would see her whenever I walked home from school, via this bygone place of time as if across different eras of the universe, eras that cobblestoned-streets still seemed to lead to. I loved walking through the lonely streets; they made me feel as if I belonged to an ancient time long gone. This modern world of cars, planes and the internet, held no fascination for me. It was the past that drew me inexorably as the ocean draws sailors back to its bosom like a magnet. She seemed so much a part of this place as if she belonged in another time too.
Every day she would be standing there in the diaphanous gossamer of her muslin dress. My heart pounded and I heard the blood rushing through my veins as I walked all the lengthy steps leading to her, in my first effort at contact. We talked and her words were mainly of things of the past, as if they still mattered. We talked about everything under the sun, except for everything new. For her the 1930's Jame Whale production of Frankenstein was still a terrifying film, how strange when today it would hardly raise an eyebrow compared to the blood and gore of zombie movies.
I liked that she was so different. Her presence seemed to conjure up those past ages and times that I yearned for. It was as if I had fallen for her long before I had even met her. However, I did not want to lose our friendship and closeness by demands of love. Our conversation seemed to take us back in time; it seemed to overcome the very fabric of the universe.
"Forget your world, come with me. Let us join the endless parade of figures of the past, the pomp of majesty of history shall be ours." she whispered in my ear. I was tempted by the spirit she seemed to offer me, the spirit of another time and place I had so often yearned for. And so she led me back to her place. The hum of motor cars got quieter and quieter while the roads seemed to become bluestone instead of asphalt. Finally she led me to a haunted park-land setting through swirling mist and fog. We still went forward, deeper and deeper into the fog. Then I noticed the shape of gravestones all about and there before me one that was open. Ancient crosses of time wrought stone, cracked monoliths upon which lichen and ivy feasted.
"You know you never asked me for my name," she said with a sad smile in her eyes," its Eleanor, Eleanor Carter."
I slowly looked down at the gravestone and the words, 'R.I.P Eleanor Carter, a loving daughter and friend’, engraved carefully into the gravestone.
"Come with me, for eternity." she said, and took my hand leading me down the moss-covered steps.

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