My Ghosts Beneath the Oleander tree. Part 1

Chapter 1

Memories are strange visitors, you may suppress them for years. Then a word, a thought, the reading of a story or just a fleeting glance, evokes an impression, or resurfaces a recollection of shadowed echoes once hidden deep within your subconscious.

Ghosts from my past have now revisited me...

I take up my pen to hurriedly ink the tales which my mother often regaled to our fragile minds back when we were young. The distant story of the haunted oleander tree which sat at the side of the modest cottage in which she started her life with my father. This little house stood on a steep incline, in the isolated dark reaches of the quaint countryside village of Millhall, Manchester.

I vaguely remember climbing that little hill to the house and seeing that beautiful tree only once. We moved to the city shortly after.

Yet, I can clearly describe the flowers of pink, red and peach as if they were a crown or diadem adorning the top the tree, clasping the limbs in what appeared to be a fond perpetual embrace. This particular tree though, completely overshadowed the smaller oleander plants of white, salmon and pale yellow. So vivid was my recollection of the experience.

One day, my mother said; she found me standing in front of the oleander plant after being missing for quite a while from the house. I was just a small child then. The other children, in trying to get my attention unsuccessfully, had alerted my parents that something was wrong with me. They could not get me to move. I had been hypnotized, standing as still as death itself. Mother said she had to physically pick me up and take me inside the house. I have no memory of being moved.

I now realize how that picture and the eerie experience of the oleander trees have been stuck in my psyche ever since. It resurfaces at times, but my mind seemed to have formed a mental block around the scary parts.

The strange reason for this narrative is a simple one to begin with. As I sat relaxed, lost in perusing the story of a creator here on Vocal, there happened to be a casual mention of an oleander tree. My brain clicked, triggering a flash like a movie replay. For I suddenly remembered the sensation of standing in front of the tree and seeing with only what could be described as my third eye, an otherworldly presence. A myriad of forms and disembodied voices had materialized, shapes without any actual physical bodies. The sensation exuded an eerie agitation, as if there were people in an ephemeral, shapeless ethereal void, yet communicating with me from the tree itself.

Thinking back to that time, I now realize why that particular plant always held such a great significance for me wherever I went. My mind would unconsciously search for the tree everywhere...did I somehow expect to find ghosts of the past secretly waiting for me under every brush or limb.

Chapter 2

We went on a family trip to the beautiful peninsular of Greece.

Arriving in Greece as a first time visitor, felt like stepping into a sun-drenched postcard. As your plane descends, you catch glimpses of the sparkling Aegean Sea, dotted with boats and edged by craggy coastlines and white-washed buildings.

Once you land, the vibrant bougainvillea and oleander flowers in reds, pinks, and purples greet you, climbing up the stone walls and blossoming in abundance. The architecture is a beautiful blend of ancient and modern, with historical ruins, charming villages, and bustling cities. The iconic Acropolis in Athens stands tall, a reminder of Greece's storied past.

The sounds are a mix of cheerful chatter, the hum of scooters weaving through narrow streets, and the occasional distant clanging of church bells. Street musicians play traditional Greek music, filling the air with lively tunes of bouzouki and lyra.

Atmosphere

The atmosphere is warm and inviting, with the scent of grilled seafood, fresh herbs, and olive oil wafting through the air. Greek hospitality, or filoxenia, is palpable as locals greet you with friendly smiles and open arms. There's a sense of timelessness as you stroll through cobbled streets, past ancient ruins and vibrant markets.

With a blend of relaxation and excitement, you are ready to explore every corner of this historical and culturally rich country.

........

Needless to say, I was particularly drawn to the beauty of the many oleander trees lining the sidewalks and flowering in almost every front yard. My demons were awakening, I could feel the pull and tug of their emergence.

It was their eyes which haunted me. The evil that lurked within them, so terrifying to behold.

Lately, I have stopped looking into eyes, they see too deep within my soul, stripping me bare it seems. Photographs seem to stare back at me with a deep and horrid malevolence. It is then that my heart skips a beat, for within eyes shines something maleficent, supernatural, deities evil and baleful laughing at my insecurities and fears, mocking me.

What do you know about me. Do you know of my sins, my guilty pleasures, my secret thoughts that would shame me if ever they were to become known.

I pull my invisible cloak of my inner self closer, clasp its folds firmly to my body, and hurry off to where no eyes can accuse me.

It can be a dark place where light and dark struggle for dominion.

My oleander specters and ghostly apparitions had finally found me again.

I tried my best to put all the old worries and fears behind me so that I could really enjoy the well earned vacation. But the nagging doubts and fears plagued my waking hours, now that they had been revisited, they were not willing to go gently into that goodnight.

I had to find a way to put my 'ghosts' to rest. Maybe immersing myself in the magic of the place would bring me peace.

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Part 2

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