Less Effort Road, Chapter 3, Ellen Morrisflower

 A ghost not

I be

in the sunlight 

with thee,

a ghost not

I be

as I dance

by the brook flowing

towards romance

 

Ellen Morrisflower

Born April 30, 1874

Death Unknown

 

Her voice is the wind with white pine trees swishing, and birds chirping the melody woven from her sorrow and joy. On rainy days, her song is the same, trickling from her heart as Morris Brook flows into Tell City Creek and out to Lake Homer.  Most days she stays near the old foundation of her home. In the winter she rests near the stones of the fireplace, crumbled and strewn among vines thick from decades of sun, rain and snow. 

 

Ellen Morrisflower is a ghost. That is certain. Throughout the year various folks will hike down Less Effort Road for a glimpse of her, a confirmation she is there. For fun, she will rush across the road through them like an artic wind. And if they scream loud enough, she will allow them to hear her laughter as loudly. And if they run fast enough, she sometimes will allow the straggler to see her. Only one man, so far, has fainted. She waited until he reached the main road to slide up from marshy muddy woods. There's nothing like a good looking oozy ghost rising up from slimy black Earth to scare a person already low on oxygen. 

On the day John and Laralyn's pickup slid into the old cellar, Ellen was far away in a field checking on the picnic spots at Hubert's Orchard. When the apple blossoms fall, Ellen likes to dance among them and sing in harmony with the wind and apple branches bouncing like dosey doe square dancers. Although she felt the pick-up's intrusion, she was more interested in the group with strings and scientific looking instruments marking off plots in the field. In the heat and humidity of high summer, at night the field is full of fireflies. Ellen, not feeling their joy as they step around cowpats, is intent on making them feel her discomfort because she thinks they are there to mark off house lots. Curiosity beat out her anger, took all her concentration. A stuck truck, as fun as a haunting she could go, pales in comparison to happy people in a sunny open field seeing a ghost. Yes, Ellen has quite a ghastly way of presenting herself when she wants to. Besides, one of the men reminds her of Otis.