The Maitre D’ steps into my path.
“You can’t go in there, madam.”
“But there are no free tables back here,” I protest.
A group of people wander past me into the darkened area of the restaurant, flooding it with a warm crimson glow.
“Private party,” he says, noticing my curious gaze.
“You may join us, if you wish,” whispers a voice behind me. An insistent hand nudges my elbow, guiding, pulling…
“I- I wouldn’t want to intrude,” I stammer.
The Maitre D’ nods approvingly.
Ten miles further on, I pass the carnage, the tangled wreckage.
And I realise I’m no longer hungry.
Well, it wouldn’t be Christmas if we didn’t have a ghost story, would it? 🙂 May I wish all Friday Fictioneers a very merry Christmas and a healthy, happy and creative New Year. Thanks to our resident Mother Christmas, Rochelle, for her tireless dedication to Friday Fictioneers.