Emily Brocklesby did not want to pose for her portrait.
She did not want to wear the new dress her mother had picked out for her . She did not want to wear her Great Grandmother’s cameo because it looked like the woman in it had no eyes.
She did not want to borrow her sister’s favorite wing back chair from the library upstairs for her to sit on because it wasn’t her favorite chair and shouldn’t she get something she wanted for herself today – of all days? Wasn’t this her special day?
To top all of it off, she did not want her Aunt to cut the blue Forget- Me- Nots from the garden and tie them together in a little bouquet for her to hold because she didn’t like flowers.
Nobody was listening to her.
Mr., Fenton was the photographer and even though she did not dislike Mr. Fenton, she did not want him to pose her like a wax figure or a doll- she didn’t want him to lift her chin or arrange her feet. She didn’t want him to move the hair away from her eyes and she did not want him to fuss with her hands.
They were ugly.
She didn’t want him to talk to her about how lovely she looked because she knew that was a lie.
Emily Brocklesby who left this earth on October 31, 1910 did not want to have her picture taken.
Emily Brocklesby just wanted to rest in peace.
Do you know some people have an intense, irrational fear of Halloween?
The people who suffer from this sad, sad affliction are not called Halloweenies- which was my guess- and they don’t suffer from Hollowphobia-which sounds sort of right.
The correct term for this terrible malady is
Can you imagine that?