#TimeTravelingGhost Part 20: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part E
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 7/13. Most famous person in your story.
We sat staring uncomfortably at each other. The polite chatter in the Hindenburg’s lounge did nothing to ease our awkward silence. Ms. Pang picked up the Champagné cocktail and took a drink.
“Wow, I drank that. It never occurred to me I could eat or drink,” she said.
“You probably shouldn’t. They’re all staring.” With my sudden change of clothes and a floating Champagne glass, we’d made quite the spectacle.
I stood up, took a bow, and announced in a loud voice, “My show opens next week on Broadway. I hope to see you there.” It was probably gauche, but it covered up our various mistakes.
“That was clever,” Ms. Pang said. She had put the glass down and didn’t pick it up again. “Let’s start again. I’m Emily Pang, but you can call me Emily. I’m—I was a reporter. The Nazis revoked my press card, so I was traveling home. In a few days I’m going to die, burn—n… I don’t want to think about it. It was horrible.”
“I’m sorry.” No pointless comfort. What else could I say?
“I’m Luminelle Bijou. You can call me whatever you want except ‘late for dinner.’” The joke fell flat, but it got a grimace, which was an improvement from the distress I’d seen on her face.
“I’m new to this ghost business,” I said, “so there isn’t much I can say about it. Nor can I tell you about my living self. I have no memory of my life. Not even my name. It was Mademoiselle Josephine Baker who christened me Luminelle Bijou.
“She’s quite famous. A communist.”
“I think you’re confused. She’s a patriot and helped us against the Nazis, no matter what Walter Winchell says.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Winchell
“I’m sorry. I should know better than to repeat gossip. Though I thought Mr. Winchell was her friend.”
I thought for a moment. “I’m getting my timelines confused. The war and Walter Winchell’s slander are in the future.”
“Oh, you’re from the future? Interesting… I wish I could see what happens. Does everyone end up with personal gyrocopters, that kind of thing?”
I almost spit out my drink. At first, I thought she said ‘gyno-copters,’ which would be a very different invention. One I wouldn’t mention in mixed company.
“But tell me, who else famous have you met?”
“I may have met Elizabeth Bathory and Camilla Karnstein.”
Emily looked blank.
“One is famous for bathing in blood, and the other is a vampire from a novel.”
“You do have charming friends,” Emily said.
“Josephine Baker is it, but I’ve thought about visiting Joan of Arc and Amelia Earhart.”
“You’d like Mrs. Earhart. She is a pleasant person. Delightful, but she’ll talk your leg off about aviation.”
Emily began smiling. I liked it. Her face lit up, and her eyes sparkled. They were almost cobalt blue at the moment. The smile faded, and she whispered, “Don’t look, but THEY are here.”
