Pairings/Characters (this chapter): John/Olivia (Olivia does not appear in this chapter)
Fandom: The Waltons
Genres: Drama, Holiday, Suspense
Rating (this chapter): G
General Summary: As World War II grows closer to Waltons Mountain, John is haunted by the memory of a lost loved one during the last War.
Chapter Summary: John experiences a strange encounter at Miller’s Pond.
Date Of Completion: February 28, 2017
Date Of Posting: April 20, 2017
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Lorimar Productions does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 490
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: All chapters can be found here.
In the grasp.
For the next few days, John’s thoughts centered on his business, he and Ben working smoothly as a team. Jason and Jim-Bob helped when they were home from school and college, taking some of the pressure off.
By the end of the third day, John had some time in the early evening to walk over to Harley and Verdie’s place and ask Harley if he could spare a few days to help out at the mill. Harley was more than happy to get the work and promised to be there bright and early in the morning.
John took his time, enjoying his chance to be out of the mill. He was glad that Harley had been available. The man was a good, reliable worker and would be worth every penny that John paid him.
John walked over the bridge that spanned Miller’s Pond, the lowering sun sparkling on the water. He paused to lean on the bridge’s railing and gaze down into the water, seeing the silvery flash of fish just below the surface. Maybe he could squeeze in some fishing this Sunday while everyone was at church.
He admired the sunset, its rich colors streaking the sky with orange, yellow and rose like one of Livvy’s paintings. Satisfied with his little interlude, John walked across the bridge as dusk fell.
He was about twenty yards away when he heard his name called. He stopped walking and frowned. Shrugging, he started to move again.
Nobody calls me Johnny.
John looked around. “Who’s there?”
“You know me, Johnny.”
“Why do you keep calling me that? No one’s called me that since…”
John saw the figure standing on the bridge in the spot he had just vacated. One elbow rested on the railing as one leg was crossed over the other, giving the figure dressed in an Army uniform a jaunty appearance.
“Good to see you, Johnny.”
Shock chilled John as a cold breeze touched his skin. “Ben?!”
“That’s right, kid.”
“How…this can’t be.” John rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been working too hard.” He looked at the bridge again and hoped it was empty.
“Sorry, Johnny, no such luck. I’m still here.”
“How can this be?”
“You being here, Benjy.”
John could swear he could see a smile on the…imposter’s?…face. But even from this distance, it looked like Ben! Shock of red hair under the soldier’s hat, mischievous green eyes, and that smile that seemed highly amused.
“See, I knew you’d come around, Little Brother.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts, fella. This is a sick practical joke.”
“Aww, Johnny, I’m as real as you remember me.”
Angrily, John stepped forward, shadows shifting as dusk turned to darkness. He reached the bridge, but no one was there. He looked around, falling against the railing. What had just happened?
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