The Little Stranger – Georgiann Carlson

he was there when I moved in
I called him The Little Stranger
sometimes it seemed
as if I were the stranger
and he was the one
who belonged in the house
he would wander through the rooms
looking for something
or someone
he seemed preoccupied
I was certain that he didn’t know
that he was dead
and one morning
as I was having breakfast
he stopped and looked at me
I smiled
and he smiled back
I motioned for him to sit down
and he misted onto the chair
I told him that he was no longer
among the living and that I would be
more than happy
to help him cross to the other side
he tried to pick up a fork
but was unable to do so
he mouthed words at me
and I told him to slow down
so that I could try and read his lips
he nodded
and mouthed the words
so I took him into the living room
where the silver inlaid pentagram
was already in the floor
I placed candles
at their proper points
did a quick cleansing and protection ritual
with him watching the entire time
and once I was sure
that everything was in the right place
I asked him if he was ready to go home
he nodded
and mouthed
I blew him a kiss
which he caught in his hand
then he pressed his fist
still holding the kiss
to his heart
my eyes filled with tears
as I began to chant
and when the blinding light appeared
his face lit up with joy
he looked at me and waved
then he blew me a kiss and ran
toward the open arms of a woman
who was urging him forward
I stayed there
until the light was gone
then I broke the circle
straightened the room
and went back to my breakfast
but thinking about
how very much I would miss him


I’m an artist, a writer, a vegetarian, an animal rights activist, and quite a few other things as well. I love books, cats, philosophy, good conversation, Chicago and the arts. So my blog is full of bits and pieces but it’s the bits and pieces that make life interesting to me. You can read more of my writing at Rethinking Life

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