Ms. Ivy

"Young lady in a tricon hat" by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo

In a dark hallway of an abandon house where the walls are splatter with old bills and monotone wallpapers, hangs a painting of a woman who lived there one hundred years ago. Her beach plum face peeks out from behind a black veil, a somber smile drawn on her pale, pink lips. Her dark eyes appear to be looking straight at you and yet they are slightly askew as if she was distracted by something in the far distance. Her right hand, the color of olives, holds a folded fan, posed and ready to drop at any moment as if lacking strength.

Ms. Ivy, was how everyone addressed her, was a kind, delicate woman whom was known to make pies that only taste sweet after the last bite. And she was well known for being an expert in gardening. After her husband, a dog trainer, died from poison ivy, she never came out of the house again. Neighbors said they heard screams coming from her house the night her husband died. There were rumors that she had killed him to be with her lover but there was no evidence to prove that.

Some said her ghost still haunts the place every now and then. If you ever drove pass the place, you could almost hear a whistle blowing as if her lover was still calling her name. If you dare to walk inside, you may just smell the scent of one of her cherry pies or hear her delicate voice singing a gray tune.


Friday 5: dog trainer, bills, beach, pie, whistle