10This is the end of the story... so sad. Meh. I don't mind. All this is copyrighted so if you steal it, I will hunt you down with my chainsaw. I'm serious. I will.
Epilogue
Three years later.
The twittering of sparrows chided in Elaine's ears. She was lying out on her freshly mowed lawn, inhaling its sweet scent. Golden sunlight soaked her cottage with its glow, giving it a yellow tinge. A wild rabbit bounced up to her, twitching its whiskers pryingly. She laughed, scaring it off into her moon garden. The white flowers were blooming better than ever this year. Maybe it's because of that new fertilizer, she wondered. Her fair summer dress was light on her pale skin, blending it excellently. She placed a callused hand on her rounded stomach, stroking the hard lump poking out.
Having enjoyed the sunlight, she got up before she got sunburnt and went inside. Nothing much had changed except for the addition of a new phone line and piano.
"Elle?" Marcel inquired from the kitchen, his usual place. His new nickname for her stuck like the tentacles of an octopus.
"Yes?"
Marcel chuckled. "Just checking," she heard him drop something and walk to her. He was in a pair of cotton shorts and a pallid wife beater. She thought he looked handsome in anything, even if it was a potato sack. She was also happy he'd finally accepted his own appearance and to love himself, despite what others thought.
He circled her waist with his arms and kissed her lips. She savoured his taste, knowing she'd never tire from it. He kissed her neck with butterfly kisses. She had a love hate relationship with his mouth. It was too addicting. After his show of affection, he rested his scarred hands on the bump on her belly, kneeling down to be eye level with it. "How's my little boy doing?" he cooed, his nose touching her belly.
"We don't know if it's a boy, Marc." Elaine said, giggling. "It could well be a girl."
Marcel gazed up at her, meeting her eyes with his, determination glinting in them. "I'm positive it's a boy."
Elaine laughed then, humoured by her husband's strong will, a quality she desired. "Want to bet?"
Marcel considered it for a moment. "Sure. How many bucks?"
"Twenty and you do his nappies for five whole months and no complaining." Elaine was really enjoying this.
"Gosh, you know how to bargain." Marcel stood up and held his hand out. "Deal," They shook hands, a devilish grin plastered on Elaine's face. He kissed it off then returned back to his second home, chopping away. Elaine sighed, smiling inwardly. What Marcel didn't know was that she'd gone to have an ultrasound yesterday. She knew the gender of the child. It was a girl. One hundred percent. Oh yes, she loved her life.
Not a second too soon, a ghost emerged from thin air. No pain arrived in her lower back. Ostensibly, her tattoo or 'birthmark' as she discovered was a symbol to represent leadership and since she'd reluctantly accepted the role of keeping track and guiding ghosts, pain was no longer required. She'd learnt her grandmother had her talent also, unlocking it after witnessing the death of her best friend, bearing the same tattoo only on her wrist.
The ghost whipped its head around, puzzled. It was a man in his mid fifties. He made eye contact with Elaine and simply broke down. "Please help me cross over. Please!" He begged, getting down on his transparent knees, his hands together.
Elaine rolled her eyes to heaven. Not only was she tired of ghosts, she was sick of being asked to help all the time. Hell, every one of his cells pleaded for aid. Elaine bit her bottom lip. With a firm voice she said, "No." The ghost's face fell drastically and he broke down into dry sobbing.
So Elaine had finally learned to say no to ghosts...
"Oh my God! Fine I'll help you!" Elaine growled exasperatedly then pointed behind her to the door.
The ghost cocked his head to the side. "Why are you telling me to leave?"
"I'm not telling you to leave." Elaine sighed, frustrated. "I'm telling you to get in line."
"But I don't see a –" He saw it then, the long single filed line behind Elaine, some the ghosts bearing a giddy expression and others with downright boredom. "Oh." He mumbled, lowering his head and gliding outside to the back of the line.
Storming into the kitchen, she wished for moral support from Marcel. She'd thought she knew how to say no.
Ok, maybe she didn't.