by Matthew Cody
Shades Harbor might have been called charming if it hadn’t felt so lonesome.
Paul was wearing a sour face. “Now you see why I wanted to skip this place.”
“The streets are empty,” said Carter. Paul had told him that Shades Harbor was a village of ghosts, but though he could hear the distant sounds of activity, such as the clip-clopping of a horse and carriage and even a few voices, the town looked deserted.
“You’ll see them soon enough,” said Paul. “Though I wouldn’t be calling those ghosts proper people.”
“I’m sorry,” said Max, interrupting their conversation. “What did you just say was down there?”
“Ghosts and dreamers,” said Emilie. “It’s said that Shades Harbor is where they land.”
“It’s true,” said Paul. “Believe me, I’ve been there.”
“Ghosts?” said Max. “You want us to go down into a town full of ghosts?”
“Nothing down there can hurt you,” said Lukas. “They’re harmless.”
“Yeah, and what about the gray men?” asked Paul.
“Oh, not that again,” said Lukas.
“What’s he talking about?” asked Carter. “What are gray men?”
Lukas glared at Paul, but the other boy simply shrugged. “If you don’t believe in them,” said Paul, “then what’s the hurt in telling?”
“I want to know,” said Carter. Something unspoken was going on between Lukas and Paul, something Lukas obviously didn’t want out in the open. They were behaving like grown-ups. “Can’t be worse than the rats,” added Carter.
“Fine,” said Lukas. “You’ve heard that dreamers sometimes find their way to the Summer Isle, but the ones who do are only visiting, and they never stay long. Most don’t even realize where they are—it’s all just a part of the dream. Ghosts are more common, and they pass through this land, too, on their way to someplace else.”
Carter nodded. He thought of the boy he’d seen chasing fireflies.
“Then there’s the other kind of ghost,” added Paul. “The not-so-friendly-like.”
“No, there’s talk of another kind,” said Lukas, glaring again at Paul. “Of wraiths and revenants who refuse to pass on to the next world. Some call them gray men.”
“Oh, if you’re going to tell it, then tell it right!” said Paul, and he leaned close to Carter, lowering his voice. “See, the gray men won’t move on because they have done something so wicked in their life that they’re scared of the hereafter. They cling to the Summer Isle, and all that wickedness and fear eats away at them until they turn into something worse than ghosts. Ragged things they become, all dressed in tatters. And they haunt lonely, dark places, looking to share all that hurt. They’ve been here longer than anyone. They’re ancient, and they’re evil.”
“Paul,” warned Lukas. “It doesn’t do any good to stoke the poor boy’s fears.”
Ghost stories were the only stories Carter didn’t care for. Of course, Paul was not the most trustworthy kid Carter had ever met. How could he be sure the scout wasn’t just trying to have some fun by scaring the littlest boy in the group? A middle, as he would be called.
Max must have been thinking the same thing. “Sounds like a boogeyman story,” she said.
“It is,” said Lukas. “Though Paul’s version was a bit more colorful than I would have told it.” Paul snorted, but Lukas ignored him. “The point is, in all our years here on the Summer Isle, I’ve never seen one. And neither has Paul.”
“I haven’t seen one with my eyes,” said Paul. “But you spend enough time down there in Shades Harbor and you’ll feel them watching you through those empty windows. Waiting for you to walk down the wrong alley. It’s bad enough we’ll have to pass by the Bonewood; can’t see why we should risk the harbor, too.”
“The Bonewood?” said Max. “That’s a horrible name.”
“That’s the woods that grow around Shades Harbor,” said Paul, pointing at the line of trees atop the nearby bluff. It was barely visible in the mist. “It’s a mean place. You’ll see for yourself. Another few miles and the Peddler’s Road comes awfully close—”
“That’s enough!” said Lukas, losing his patience. “We’ll steer well clear of the Bonewood, but we are going down into the village. We’re weaponless and out of food and water. I don’t know about gray men, but if we run into any more rats in the condition we’re in, we will be in trouble. That’s certain.”
“And you really think we can find supplies down there?” asked Carter. “In a village full of ghosts?”
“The residents can be traded with, after a fashion,” said Emilie. “And Lukas is right—in all our years, no New Hameliner has ever seen a gray man.”
“Not one that’s lived to tell the tale,” Paul muttered.
“I don’t relish the idea of going down there, either,” said Emilie. “But we won’t survive on the road without supplies. We should be safe enough if we stick to the open places and stay together.”
Carter looked down at the misty harbor village, at the lonely streets. Just for a moment, he thought he spotted a flash of movement, the yellow of a frilly dress passing between buildings. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. A yellow dress, not gray rags.
A quick look to his sister confirmed that she had seen it, too, so it wasn’t just Carter’s imagination. It was also obvious from her expression that she was as freaked out about this place as he was. But Lukas was right when he said they couldn’t keep on going empty-handed. Even if they turned back now, they would be forced to cross rat lands without any weapons to defend themselves.
What would an adventuring hero do? Of course, the hero would go down into the village. The hero wouldn’t let simple ghost stories scare him away. But for the first time since coming to the Summer Isle, the name hero felt like it might be just another word. The rats were scary, but Paul’s gray men story tapped into a deeper feeling. It was a fear born on those nights when he’d huddled under his covers in the dark, afraid to come out because he’d thought he heard something moving under the bed, because he’d spied a shadow that hadn’t been there the moment before. Those fears had always been shapeless and indistinct, but thanks to Paul’s story, they had form now. Carter’s fears were gray like the grave, and covered in tatters.
Carter jumped as he felt Max’s hand on his shoulder. “What do you think?” she asked. “We do need supplies.”
“Oh, all right,” answered Carter, summoning up a bravado that he didn’t feel. He shook his head to clear the images of dead things in the dark. He didn’t want to appear cowardly now. “Let’s do it.”
For once, Paul didn’t take the lead. Instead, they followed Lukas off the Peddler’s Road and down a little dirt path that wound between the two high bluffs. Shades Harbor was hidden between those forested hills and an ink-dark sea. Eventually, the dirt path gave way to a cobblestone street that snaked through the village. It looked to be the only main street in fact, with alleyways squeezing between the various oddly shaped buildings. Streetlamps were aglow with a weird bluish light, which did little to illuminate their way through the constant mist that rolled in off the water like waves. Down here in the village, the bright sun overhead was little more than a pale disk in the overcast sky, and now and then, voices came out of the fog—a fish seller calling, children laughing, a woman’s voice rising in anger. They were the phantom sounds of a village full of people that weren’t there.
Haunted was the only word for this place.
“You okay?” said Max, watching Carter.
“Yeah,” said Carter. “Let’s just keep moving.”
The first building they passed was a lopsided shop with a sagging roof and a broken sign that dangled on its chain. If the shop had a name, the letters had long since faded. Carter used his sleeve to wipe the fog off the window before peering in. The darkened shop looked empty, but behind a long counter, he could see rows of rusty hooks hanging from the ceiling.
“I think it’s an old butcher’s shop,” s
aid Carter.
Lukas cleaned another patch of window and looked. “Yes. Could be knives in there, and no one to stop us from taking them.” Lukas gave their companions a questioning look. No one spoke, but Paul emphatically shook his head no.
Carter agreed. Lukas swore the ghosts here couldn’t hurt them, but even so, snooping around a haunted butcher’s shop did not seem like a good idea.
“We’ll keep it in mind,” said Lukas after a moment. “In case we don’t find anything more promising.”
“Lukas, why are these shops here at all?” asked Carter. “I mean, if everyone’s a ghost, who needs to go shopping?”
“It’s hard to say,” said Lukas. “But I think the shops are here because the ghosts expect them to be here, if that makes any sense. That’s an empty butcher’s shop, just waiting for a butcher to show up. Maybe he’ll be a dreamer, or a ghost, but then he’ll have his shop to haunt. I think the ghosts needed a village of their own—something familiar. Makes the journey easier, I guess.”
Carter looked around them at the lonely streets, the empty windows and the drifting fog. He supposed that if ghosts were to dream up a village, Shades Harbor would be it.
With that, the five of them continued walking along the main village street. They passed several cottages and a few more empty businesses before the street brought them to the waterfront. Here the voices, snippets of conversations, grew louder, though they still came and went like the wind. Lukas stepped up to the dock and cupped his hands around his eyes as he stared out into the gloomy bay. He was searching for something.
“Paul, why can’t we see them? The ghosts, I mean?” asked Max.
“That’s because these ones know they’re ghosts,” said Paul. “And they’re getting ready to move on. They don’t care much what they look like anymore. When the ship comes in, you’ll see them. The fresh ones.”
“That’s a terrible choice of words,” said Max.
“Sorry,” said Paul. “The recently deceased, then, for you who are easily offended. See, most of the newcomers don’t know they’re ghosts yet. They still look and talk like you and me. Only deader.”
“We think that’s why they come here,” said Emilie. “They need time to realize what they are. Then they can move on.”
“Not the gray men,” said Paul.
“Enough about that,” said Lukas. “You’re scaring people.”
“I’m not scared,” said Carter, but his voice sounded fragile and small to his own ears. When his friends weren’t watching the windows and the alleys, they were watching him, though they tried to hide it. This was ridiculous. Carter had faced down rat monsters, twice now, and won both times. But rats, even monstrous ones, could be fought. How did you fight a ghost?
“What about the dreamers?” Carter asked, trying to get his mind off ghosts for a while. “You mentioned dreamers, too.”
“They end up here by accident, I think,” said Lukas. “People get lost and wander out of their dreams for a while, I guess.”
“How do you tell the difference between a ghost and a dreamer?” asked Max.
“One minute you’ll be looking at a dreamer and the next he’s gone,” said Lukas. “The dreamer wakes up. But the ghosts take time to fade away. They don’t leave until they’re ready.”
Carter remembered the boy chasing fireflies had disappeared like that. An eye blink and he was gone. The boy was a dreamer, then. For some reason, this made Carter feel better. He hadn’t liked the idea of that happy little boy being anyone’s ghost.
Max joined Lukas at the dock. “So are we just going to stare at the water all day?”
“I’m looking for the boat,” said Lukas.
“What boat?” asked Max.
“That boat!” answered Lukas, clapping his hands together. “We’re in luck.”
Lukas’s clapping echoed too loudly for Carter. The eerie silence of this place made him want to stay as quiet as possible. But there was a boat approaching. He could see it now, a large, glowing lantern swinging from the prow as the ship cut through the fog. It was an old-fashioned type of ship—a schooner, Carter thought it was called—with a black lacquered hull and full sails, though there was hardly any wind that Carter could feel. The long ship slowed to a stop as it lined up perfectly with the shore, and a gangplank extended off the deck and onto the dock below.
To Carter’s relief, the ship was filled with people. Solid-looking people just as normal as he was—except for their clothing. A few were dressed in modern clothing—jeans and T-shirts—but the rest had stepped out of another century. Carter spotted a few women in long gowns, with twirling parasols, and there were men in top hats and coat tails. But the one thing they all had in common was a distinctive faraway expression, though not one of them seemed surprised to be here.
“Are they really…,” began Carter.
“Yep,” whispered Paul. “What’d I tell you? Fresh ones. Don’t even realize what’s happened to them.”
“But some of them are dressed like regular people and others look like they stepped out of another century. No offense.”
Paul just shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just assumed dead folk dressed oddly because they’re, well, they’re dead.”
Carter wasn’t so sure. The different styles might not bother Paul, but seeing the shades of people from different eras marching off that ship together made Carter wonder if there was even more to the Summer Isle than they thought. The New Hameliners didn’t get older, but maybe time was more elastic than that. What if it was a place where ghosts and dreamers of every age could wander, because it was a place outside of time itself?
What then would that mean for the children of Hamelin who had disappeared over seven hundred years ago? And what would that mean for Carter’s and Max’s chances of ever getting home again?
“Hey, you all right?” asked Paul. “Something wrong?”
“What? No,” said Carter quickly. “I, ah…I just expected them to be spookier, is all.”
“You mean all rotten-like?”
“Maybe.”
“I told you, these ones are fresh, so they don’t get that they’re dead. Their spirits look just the same as they do in everyday life. It’s the ones that know they’re dead that look awful. The ones that get angry about it.”
“Those gray men?”
Paul nodded. “Best not talk about them here in town, though,” he whispered. “Never know who’s listening.”
Carter glanced over his shoulder at the empty shops, the lonely alleyways. He didn’t like the look of this place at all.
Most of the newcomers headed for the strange shops and homes of Shades Harbor while a few continued out of town. Carter heard someone sniffle behind him, and he turned to see Emilie wiping her nose on her sleeve. Were those tears in her eyes?
“Are you okay?” Carter asked her quietly. He didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the others.
Emilie nodded. “None of them know,” she explained. “All those people, and none of them have a clue as to what they really are. It strikes me as sad, is all. Silly of me.”
Lukas seemed to be studying the faces in the crowd as they passed, as if looking for someone in particular, while Carter and the rest of his friends gave a man in a filthy, bloodstained apron a wide berth as he stalked off the gangplank. The man was sweaty-faced and held a shiny meat cleaver in one hand. He stomped up the main street until he reached the butcher’s shop with the faded sign. He paused there for a minute, then swung the door open and went inside.
“We are definitely not going in there now,” said Max. Everyone, even Lukas, nodded in agreement.
“Ah, here we go,” said Lukas. “This one looks promising. Come on!”
He’d started to follow a stout little man in suspenders and rolled-up shirtsleeves. The man was carrying two great big grocer’s bags, and there was a pencil stuck behind his ear. He was mumbling to himself. “That’s three pence for a dozen, should last us until Thursday….”
“
Come on,” said Lukas. “Let’s see where he goes.”
Though Carter didn’t know why they were doing so, they followed the little man to a storefront just down the street from the docks. This one was as lonely as the butcher’s shop, with rows and rows of barren shelves. As they filed inside, the man slipped behind the counter. Then he looked up at Carter and his friends with an impatient smile, as if he’d been there all along.
“Well?” he said. “What can I get for you?”
“My friends and I are looking to outfit ourselves for a long journey,” said Lukas.
“Yes, yes,” said the man. “Well, as you can see, whatever you want, you’ll find it here.”
Carter and Max exchanged a look. The shop was empty except for the occasional cobweb. “I didn’t know ghosts were also nuts,” Max whispered, but not quietly enough, because the man shot her an annoyed look.
Lukas intervened. “Why don’t you all wait outside? Emilie and I can take care of this.” As the rest of them stepped outside, Carter glanced back into the shop. Emilie and Lukas were haggling with the man over the price of goods that weren’t there.
“I know I shouldn’t bother asking this,” said Max, “but why are these people going about their business as if nothing’s wrong? They just got off a boat in some weird little village, but no one’s blinking an eye.”
“Strange is normal when you’re dead or dreaming, I guess,” said Paul. “And people are creatures of habit, regardless. Either that fellow in there is a shopkeeper when he’s awake or he was when he was alive. So he’s a shopkeeper here.”
“It’s still weird,” said Max.