Shadows Of Priory Park (Long Meditative Sleep Story)

Chichester photographer Ellie, takes photographs in Priory Park, a green open space situated on the outskirts of the city of Chichester in England, when she notices a smudge on one of the images. She delves into a WW2 story of lost love as she uncovers the mystery of the couple who used to meet in the park.

Transcript

Okay,

So just take a moment to allow your eyes to close and allow yourself to begin to relax.

And as you begin to comfortably drift asleep,

I'm just going to tell this bedtime story in the background.

And I don't know whether you'll drift asleep faster to the sound of my voice or whether it'll be to the spaces between my words.

And Ellie Taylor moved through the world with the precision and patience of a seasoned photographer,

Her eyes constantly scanning her surroundings.

Much like a painter,

Choosing the perfect strokes for her canvas.

Born and raised on the fringes of Chichester,

Her early life was a ballet of shadows and light,

Playing amidst the historic architecture and expansive landscapes that characterize this corner of England.

It was here amid the silent tales,

Etched into ancient stone and whispered by the gentle rustle of leaves,

That Ellie found her calling.

She'd inherited her first camera from her grandad,

A battered but beloved Nikon that had seen the world through decades of change.

Photography for Ellie wasn't merely a profession,

But a profound means of connection,

A way to touch the subtle beauty often overlooked by the bustling crowd.

Her favourite time to capture this beauty was at dusk.

The magical hour when the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky painted itself in hues of fiery orange and calming indigo.

It was during these quiet moments that Chichester revealed its secrets to her lens.

Ellie specialised in capturing the essence of Chichester's historical sites,

Transforming familiar scenes into realms of ethereal beauty.

Her photographs of Priory Park with its robust trees and sprawling lawn,

The Roman walls enclosing hints of the centuries past,

And the cathedral standing so majestically against the twilight sky had gained her a lot of local admiration and talk of acclaim beyond.

Her work resonated with those who found solace in the serenity of history mingled with the transient beauty of twilight.

On the evening that would lead her down an unexpected path,

Ellie was particularly drawn to the solitude of Priory Park.

As she adjusted the focus on her camera,

Framing the dying light as it kissed the ancient stones and danced upon the leaves,

She was unknowingly about to capture something or someone that would change not only the course of her work,

But of her very perception of the city she thought she knew intimately.

And after the sun had surrendered its last embers to the encroaching night,

Ellie returned home,

Her mind still replaying the serene scenes she'd captured.

Her small studio apartment,

Cluttered with prints and camera equipment,

Was a sanctuary where she transformed her captures into art.

As she uploaded this evening's work onto her computer,

A cup of tea steaming beside her,

Ellie was eager to revisit the tranquility of the park through her photographs.

As the images flickered onto the screen,

Ellie's practiced eye surveyed each frame,

Assessing the interplay of light and shadow,

The composition,

The mood captured within each pixel.

Most of the photos were exactly as she expected,

Still lifes of nature caught in twilight,

Serene,

Beautiful.

But as she clicked through the sequence,

One image made her pause,

A prickling sensation of unease crawling up her spine.

It was a shot of a particularly old and gnarled tree beside the entrance to the park,

Its branches twisting skyward like arthritic fingers,

The background dipped in the soft blues and purples of dusk.

The park was empty at such a late hour,

However,

Standing just beneath the sprawling canopy of the tree,

Just within the entrance to the park,

Was a figure,

A shadowy outline that Ellie was certain had not been there when she took the photo.

The figure was indistinct,

More like a smudge than a solid form,

As if it was caught in motion or perhaps fading away even as the shutter had clicked.

It was positioned in a way that suggested it was looking up at the tree or possibly beyond,

In the direction of the cathedral's spire,

Which could be seen silhouetted in the distance if you stood back in the park.

There was something unsettling about its presence,

A stark contrast to the gentle decay of day.

Ellie zoomed in,

Trying to discern any features or clothing that could give clues to its identity but the figure remained persistently obscure,

Its edges blurring into the dusk.

Confusion knotted Ellie's brow as she leaned closer.

The logical part of her mind suggested it could be a trick of the light,

A bizarre shadow cast by the intertwining branches,

Or maybe someone had simply walked into the shot unnoticed.

Yet the emotional,

Instinctual part of her,

The part honed by years of capturing images that spoke without words,

Shared with her that there was something more.

And with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity,

Ellie decided she needed to return to the park the following evening,

Perhaps recreating the conditions of the shot would shed light on this mystery,

Either dispelling the shadow as a fluke of her camera's lens or confirming it as something far less explainable.

The following evening,

Ellie returned to Priory Park,

Armed with her camera and a simmering curiosity that overshadowed her initial unease.

The air was cool and carried the faint scent of autumn,

Decaying leaves mixed with the crispness of approaching night.

As she walked,

The park slowly transitioned into its nightly guise,

Shadows lengthening and merging into a tapestry of dusk.

Ellie stood near the old tree where she'd captured the mysterious figure.

She set up her tripod in the exact spot from last night,

The camera angled to replicate the previous shot.

The park was quiet,

The only sounds the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum around the city.

Waiting for the right light,

Ellie felt a blend of scepticism and anticipation,

Part of her expected to see nothing unusual tonight,

Attributing yesterday's anomaly to a trick of her mind or a flaw in her equipment.

And as the light waned,

She took several photos,

Each a few minutes apart,

Maintaining the same settings and framing.

She found that the ritualistic nature of the task was calming,

And for a moment Ellie allowed herself to be absorbed in the technical aspects of her craft,

Aperture,

Focus,

Exposure,

But as the sky darkened to the same shade of deep blue of the previous night,

A chill that had little to do with the evening air,

Crept up her spine.

And once back at home,

Ellie uploaded the new set of images with a pounding heart.

As the files loaded onto her screen,

She quickly flipped through them,

There,

In the third image of the sequence,

Was the figure again,

An indistinct silhouette under the tree,

Its posture and location eerily identical to the night before.

This time,

There was no denying its presence.

The figure was slightly clearer now,

But still frustratingly vague.

It seemed to be a person,

Or the impression of one,

Caught in a moment of stillness that was almost poignant.

There was an air of waiting about it,

As if they were expecting someone or something.

The realisation that whatever she was capturing was not a mere trick of light,

But potentially something supernatural,

Sent a thrill through Ellie.

Fuelled by a mix of fear and fascination,

Ellie decided to deepen her investigation.

She would need more than just her camera to unravel this mystery.

The next day,

She planned to visit the library,

To search historical records and old newspapers,

Anything that might tell her more about the park's history during the time periods her photos suggested.

Maybe there was a forgotten event,

A hidden tragedy or an old tale tied to the very spot she'd photographed.

The shadowy figure,

Whatever it was,

Had appeared in her life for a reason,

And Ellie was determined to discover what it was trying to communicate.

Through the lens of her camera,

A door had been opened to the past,

And Ellie was ready to step through it.

She arrived at the Chichester library early the next morning,

Her mind buzzing with theories and possibilities.

Exploring the rows upon rows of books,

It seemed like the perfect place to unearth secrets from the past.

She walked through the doors,

A musty scent of old paper,

The hushed atmosphere,

Imagining herself almost stepping back in time.

She spoke with a kindly librarian,

Named Mrs Partridge,

Who greeted her.

She explained that she has a need to explore the history of Priory Park,

Perhaps during World War II.

She was shown to a local history section,

And looked through some archived newspapers and personal diaries from that era.

She started with the newspapers,

Scanning through the reels of those newspapers for any mention of Priory Park,

And it was tedious work,

But enjoyable work,

Her eyes flicking back and forth as she absorbed snippets of life during the war.

Finally,

She found a small article dated back to 1941,

Discussing a community gathering in Priory Park to help to boost wartime morale.

The article mentioned how the park served as a temporary haven from the harsh realities of war,

A place where soldiers and local families could mix and mingle.

Intrigued,

Ellie turned her attention to the personal diaries.

Mrs Partridge helped her locate a collection donated by a local family,

Which included the diaries of a young woman who had lived in Chichester during the war.

Ellie's hands trembled slightly as she opened the faded leather cover of the first diary.

The pages were filled with elegant handwriting detailing daily life under the shadow of war.

She mentioned a soldier,

Tom,

Who was a regular figure in her life,

And she often wrote about their meeting at Priory Park,

Beneath the old tree,

The very spot that Ellie had photographed.

Then,

Ellie found a heart-wrenching entry dated late 1943.

Mary wrote of receiving the news of Tom's death.

He'd been killed in action overseas.

Her grief was palpable,

The ink smudged in places where tears had fallen.

Ellie closed the diary,

Her heart heavy.

The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together.

The figure in her photos could be Tom,

Lingering in the place he associated with love and life.

Or perhaps it was Mary,

Unable to move on from her loss.

The personal connection to the park,

The repeated appearances at dusk.

It all made a strange kind of sense.

And with a new sense of purpose,

Ellie decided to delve deeper.

She continued looking through the diaries,

And borrowed several books on local history during World War II,

Hoping to understand the depth of their story and the scope of their love.

She felt to herself that this was no longer just a photographic anomaly.

It was a window into a poignant past,

Which Ellie was determined to bring to light.

And as Ellie delved deeper,

She stumbled upon tucked away letters,

And an old worn journal.

This journal was rugged,

Its leather cover scarred with the marks of a life on the move.

The kind that might belong to a soldier.

The name embossed faintly on the cover was Thomas E.

Whitmore.

With piqued curiosity,

Ellie opened it,

Discovering that it belonged to Tom.

The first few pages contained general observations about his military life.

Descriptions of his comrades,

The mundane routine of drills,

The longing for normalcy.

But as Ellie flipped through the pages,

The tone shifted.

Tom began to mention Chichester,

The respite he'd offered from the chaos of war.

And then Mary.

His writing about Mary was vibrant.

Filled with youthful passion and an artist's touch.

Painting her in words as if she were a beacon of light in his war-darkened world.

He wrote about their first meeting in Priory Park,

Near the old tree.

Which seemed to be their favourite rendezvous point.

It was Mary who'd approached him,

Offering a smile and a sandwich,

As he sat alone during a rare break.

This simple kindness blossomed into regular meetings where they shared stories,

Dreams and fears.

Ellie found herself captivated by Tom's descriptions of Mary.

Her laughter that echoed.

The chiming of the cathedral bells.

Her courage in volunteering at the local hospital.

And her unwavering hope for a future beyond the war.

In one poignant letter,

Folded between the journal pages,

Tom had written to Mary expressing his dreams of a future where they could walk freely in the park.

Not as soldier and civilian,

But simply as Tom and Mary.

The letter was never sent.

As she read these intimate words,

Ellie realised that Tom's spirit might be anchored to Priory Park,

By more than just memories.

It was tethered by unfurled promise and a love cut tragically short.

His entries grew sparse as the war dragged on.

The last few noting his imminent deployment to a frontline overseas.

A deployment from which he would never return.

Moved by the depth of Tom's affection and the tragedy of his untimely death,

Ellie felt a responsibility to bring closure to this lingering sorrow.

Ellie planned her next steps.

She would scour the library's archives for any information on Mary.

Visit the locations mentioned in the diaries and letters,

Hoping to connect the historical dots and perhaps facilitate a peaceful resolution to this haunting love story.

Ellie continued her quest for deeper understanding.

She returned to the library to search for any traces of Mary's life after Tom's death.

She spent hours poring over old census records,

Electoral rolls,

Newspaper clippings.

Her diligence was rewarded when she found a small obituary for Mary,

Printed many years after the war.

It was brief but touching,

Describing Mary as a lifelong resident of Chichester,

Who'd been active in community events well into her old age.

Most strikingly,

The obituary mentioned Mary's enduring commitment to preserving the memory of those lost in the war,

Including a special mention of her late fiancé,

Tom.

Ellie's heart ached for Mary,

Imagining her life lived in the shadow of such loss.

She wondered how many evenings Mary had spent walking the paths of Priory Park,

Retracing the steps of her lost love.

Driven by a need to know more,

Ellie visited local historical society to see if anyone might remember Mary.

There she met an elderly woman,

Who'd been a young girl during the war,

And remembered Mary from community gatherings.

Mary was like a part of the park,

She recounted.

After Tom died,

She'd go there almost every day,

Saying it made her feel closer to him.

She used to say the park was where her heart felt at peace,

Where she could feel Tom's presence.

She mentioned that Mary had planted a tree in the park in Tom's memory,

A fact that Ellie hadn't found recorded in any official documents.

Ellie revisited the park,

Her eyes scanning for any likely tree that might have been significant to Mary.

Eventually,

She found a secluded spot with mature oak that stood slightly apart from the others,

Its branches sprawling nobly against the sky,

A small faded plaque at its base,

Or an inscription in memory of Thomas E.

Whitmore,

Who gave all in the service of his country,

Forever in our hearts.

As Ellie stood before the tree,

She could feel that this wasn't just a memorial,

But a symbol of Mary's unyielded love and Tom's undying presence.

It was here,

In the park,

That Mary had vowed to wait for him,

Beneath these trees that now seemed to hold their love story within its leaves.

Ellie felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and privilege.

She'd uncovered a love story,

A transcended time,

A story of enduring devotion amidst the cruel separations of war.

With her camera as her tool,

She was determined to bring this tale to light,

To share the beauty and tragedy of Tom and Mary's love,

With a world that could perhaps find some solace in its timeless message.

The park,

With its gently rustling trees and dancing shadows,

Had become more than a photographic subject.

It was a sanctuary of memories,

Where the past reach out to the present,

Longing for acknowledgement and peace.

After her discoveries at the library and with the local historical society,

Ellie was drawn even more deeply into the world of Tom and Mary.

With a mixture of reverence and determination.

She returned to Priory Park,

Camera in hand as dusk began to paint the sky in shades of twilight.

The oak tree,

The memorial plaque,

Became the focal point of her investigation.

Over the following evenings,

Ellie set up her equipment at various angles around the tree,

Capturing a series of photographs as the light faded.

She paid careful attention to the environmental conditions,

Noting the temperature,

The wind,

The exact times of her sessions,

Hoping to understand the patterns that might trigger the appearance of the mysterious figure.

As she reviewed the images from these sessions,

She began to notice a pattern in the occurrences of the shadowy figure.

It always appeared at the same time,

Just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

And the first stars began to twinkle in the evening sky.

The figure was consistently positioned near the tree,

Sometimes appearing to lean against it,

As if in a state of waiting or perhaps deep contemplation.

Intrigued by this discovery,

Ellie decided to experiment with different photographic techniques to see if she could capture more details of the figure.

She used long exposure settings,

She used a full spectrum camera,

She used infrared filters,

Hoping to pick up details unseen by the naked eye.

And on one particularly clear evening,

As she adjusted her camera to a new setting,

She glimpsed the figure through her lens before even snapping the shot.

Faint,

Almost translucent silhouette,

Illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun.

Holding her breath,

Ellie slowly pressed the shutter button,

Capturing a sequence of images.

When she later examined these photos,

She was surprised to see that the figure appeared more defined than ever before.

It was still shadowy,

But there was a discernible outline of a man,

Dressed in what seemed to be a military uniform.

Dressed in what seemed to be a military uniform.

His posture relaxed,

As if he were at ease in this familiar spot.

She was aware that she was likely seeing Tom,

Or at least a manifestation of his memory.

Making her feel thrilled and unnerved in equal measure.

She felt a profound connection to this spirit,

A sense of duty to help him find peace.

She wondered if he was aware of her presence,

If he sensed her presence.

Her attempts to reach out to him through her lens.

She planned a more interactive approach for her next visit.

Bringing a small speaker to play music from the 1940s,

The kind that Tom and Mary might have danced to in their time.

Perhaps the familiar music would evoke a stronger presence from the figure,

Or even elicit a new kind of interaction.

She set up her equipment,

Played the soft melodies,

The notes floating through the air with a haunting clarity.

The sun dipped low.

The park was bathed in the gentle glow of twilight.

Ellie watched through her camera,

Her heart pounding,

Ready to capture whatever might come.

And as light waned,

She was scanning the surroundings through her lens.

Her eyes now attuned to the nuances of shadows and movement.

The air around the tree seemed to be shimmering slightly.

A subtle distortion that Ellie had come to recognize as a precursor to the figure's appearance.

Holding her breath,

There he was,

The silhouette of Tom,

More distinct than ever before.

His demeanor,

That of someone patiently waiting.

This time,

The figure wasn't merely a passive presence.

As Ellie watched,

It moved to the side of the tree,

As Ellie watched,

It moved slowly around the tree,

Pausing occasionally as if listening or searching for something or someone.

The figure seemed to react to the music,

Its movements becoming more purposeful,

As though the melodies were drawing out memories or emotions from the depths of its spectral existence.

Compelled by a sudden impulse,

Ellie spoke softly into the quiet of the evening,

Her voice gentle but clear,

Tom,

Is that you?

Are you looking for Mary?

There was a pause in the air,

The music continuing to play as a breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

Then the figure stopped moving and seemed to turn towards her.

A gesture so unmistakably human that Ellie gasped.

The moment was surreal,

A connection across dimensions.

It was both terrifying and profound.

Ellie continued,

Her voice a mix of empathy and encouragement.

She never forgot you,

Tom.

She loved you until the end.

She's at peace now,

But she left this world still loving you.

The figure stood still.

Its posture conveying an air of attentiveness.

The air around it seemed to pulse with a quiet energy and for a moment,

Ellie felt the barriers between the past and the present thinning.

A shared grief and love mingling in the twilight air.

Ellie took another step,

Approaching the figure slowly.

Her camera set aside,

Her hands empty and open.

I don't know if you can find her where you are,

She spoke softly,

Standing a few feet away from where the figure hovered.

But maybe,

Just knowing that she remembered might give you some peace.

Maybe it's time for you to find rest too.

The figure remained still for a long moment and then slowly began to fade.

Dissolving into the dusk,

Until only the park and the whispers of the wind remained.

Ellie stood alone by the tree.

A profound silence enveloping her.

A silence that felt like an answer.

A release.

Shaken and moved,

Ellie packed up her equipment.

She knew that something extraordinary had happened.

Something that defied easy explanation.

As she left the park,

The last notes of the 40s music fading into the night.

She felt an overwhelming sense of closure,

As if she'd been part of facilitating a long-awaited reunion or farewell.

She knew that her encounters with the figure of Tom were likely over.

But the story of his and Mary's love would stay with her forever.

Would stay with her forever.

A poignant reminder of the power of love and memory to transcend even the boundaries of life and death.

Invigorated by her spiritual encounter with the figure she believed to be Tom,

Ellie felt a responsibility to weave together the threads of this poignant story.

Not only for her own understanding,

But also for the community.

The following day found her engaging with the older residents of Chichester.

Those whose roots were deeply embedded in the local history,

And might recall the echoes of past lives that still whispered through the streets of the city.

At a local coffee shop.

A favoured gathering spot for the town's elder residents,

Ellie introduced herself,

Shared her project,

Careful to respect the sensitive nature of her inquiries.

Her story raised interest of several people who were more than willing to contribute their memories to her tapestry of the past.

One man,

Mr Harold Jennings,

Who'd lived in Chichester his whole life,

Said he remembered Mary well.

He said,

With his eyes distant with remembrance,

That she was a fixture of the community.

After the war she threw herself into local charities,

Was always busy,

Always kind.

But every evening without fail,

She walked to Priory Park and said it was her time to reflect.

Another resident,

A Mrs Irene Foster,

Chimed in saying it was rather tragic really,

That Mary had never remarried.

She wore black for a year after the war,

Mourning her lost Tom.

And even years later you could see her sitting on the same old bench near the tree in the park.

Some say she was talking to herself,

Or maybe to Tom.

Ellie listened,

Her heart heavy with the collective memory of a grief that had lingered long after the war had ended.

She learned that even after Mary's passing,

Which occurred quietly in her sleep at a ripe old age of 92,

There were sightings of a mournful figure near the tree in the park.

Some dismissed these sightings as tricks of the light,

Or the playfulness of a child.

Others shared that it was Mary waiting for a reunion with Tom.

With these stories Ellie felt a deeper connection,

Not just as historical figures,

But as enduring presences within the community.

She compiled these accounts and the photos and her experiences into a comprehensive exhibit.

Her goal being to celebrate not only the history of Tom and Mary,

But also to acknowledge the lingering impact of their love story on the community.

And as she organized the exhibit,

Ellie included panels that described the wartime history of Chichester,

Personal stories from the residents,

Her own narrative of the photographic journey that led her to uncover this story.

With the centerpiece being a series of images capturing the ethereal figure by the tree,

Each accompanied by a snippet of Tom's letters to Mary,

Bringing to life their enduring love.

The unveiling of the exhibit was attended by a curious mix of young and old.

As people moved through the exhibit,

Ellie observed their reactions.

Some touched to tears,

Others quietly reflective.

The story of Tom and Mary,

Framed by Ellie's lens and woven through with the threads of community memory,

Had created a space for collective remembrance and healing.

And after the success of the exhibition,

Ellie returned to Priory Park.

While in the park,

She noticed a faint shimmering outline beginning to form near the tree.

The familiar presence of the shadowy figure she now believed to be Tom.

The figure stood still,

Its posture one of calm expectation,

Facing Ellie as if it was aware of her presence.

Compelled by a mixture of awe and courage,

Ellie slowly approached the figure,

Her camera hanging forgotten by her side.

As she neared,

The figure's form wavered slightly like a reflection on water stirred by wind.

Yet,

Its presence remained strong,

Rooted to the spot by the tree.

Tom,

Ellie whispered,

Stopping a few feet away.

The figure seemed to acknowledge her,

Its head tilting slightly as if listening.

I've learned so much about you and Mary.

I feel like I know you both,

Like you've been waiting to tell your story.

The air around them pulsed gently,

And Ellie felt a profound sense of peace washing over her,

Dispelling the last of her initial fear.

It was as if Tom's spirit was communicating without words,

An emotional transmission that spoke of gratitude and a deep,

Enduring loneliness.

I brought Mary's letters,

The ones she couldn't send you,

Ellie continued,

Her voice soft but clear.

She missed you so much,

Tom.

She waited for you here by this tree for as long as she could.

The figure seemed to react,

Its form becoming more defined,

As if drawing strength from her words.

Then,

In a moment that Ellie would later struggle to describe,

A sensation like a gentle breeze passed through her,

Filled with emotions,

Longing,

Love,

Sadness,

A mingling of Mary's heartache and Tom's unfulfilled yearnings.

Ellie understood that Tom's spirit had lingered not out of unrest,

But out of a desire to reconnect with Mary,

To know she had lived a full life,

Even in his absence,

And that she'd never forgotten him.

It was as if he needed Ellie's confirmation,

Her witness to his story,

To finally find peace.

Mary loved you till her last day,

Ellie said,

Her voice breaking with emotion.

And she's at peace now,

Tom,

Maybe it's time for you to find peace,

Too,

Maybe it's time to let go.

The figure paused,

Light beginning to dissolve its edges.

Slowly,

It nodded,

A gesture of understanding and acceptance,

Before Tom began to fade from view.

And as Tom's figure disappeared,

It left behind a calm,

Empty space by the tree.

Ellie stood there for a long moment,

Overwhelmed by the encounter,

Feeling a weight lifting from the park,

As if the air itself was lighter.

She knew that what had kept Tom's spirit in Priory Park was now resolved,

His connection with Mary acknowledged and honoured.

And with a profound sense of closure,

And a respect for the power of love and memory,

Ellie packed up her equipment and headed back home.

And she found that the experience in Priory Park had changed her,

Had imbued her work with a deeper sense of purpose and empathy.

And she continued her photography,

Now with an enhanced sensitivity to the layers of stories hidden within every landscape,

Every face,

Every photograph.

And she went on to tell many more stories,

Through her photography,

And felt herself going to bed at night,

Relaxing,

Drifting,

Floating,

So deeply,

So peacefully asleep to Slumberland.