The invitation

The prompt on Sunday Scribblings this week is Invitation

Many years ago he attended a school reunion. It must have been at least sixty years back. In the few years since finishing their education they had all changed beyond belief and he'd realised that they had little in common. That was the last time he saw most of them as so many had moved away. In recent years he had payed his respects at the funerals of most of those that stayed behind.

A few days ago he received an invitation. It was from a long lost friend. A friend from his child hood. The pleasure of his company was requested at a get-together of members of the town’s youth club from the nineteen twenties. He thought it odd as most of the members would be gone by now. Many of them had long since disappeared, and surely, most of them would have passed on to the next life.

On the appointed morning he put on his best suit. He doesn’t have many occasions to wear it nowadays. He set off down the road, invitation in hand, to the village hall. When he arrived it seemed to be deserted. He pushed on the door and to his surprise it opened. He stepped inside and through the gloom he could just make out the figures of ten or so people standing motionless and alone. He felt a strange chill in the air. Slowly and as one, ten heads turned to face him. Ten gaunt expressionless faces. One by one he recognised them. But all of them passed away years ago. He remembered going to the burials of most of them. One by one they stretched their arms out toward him. He turned back toward the door through which he entered, but it was not there. Nothing was there. Nothing but a swirling mist surrounded him. His friends slowly formed a circle around him, their hands beckoning as they closed in.


He was never seen again.
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