Bright Obscurity

by Ruby Brown

  “Thank you,” Trixie said softly, smiling at him as she put one of the sweets in her mouth.

  They found Dallas in the crowd watching Rose perform on one of the stages, leaning up against a tree with a smile on his face. Mal stood next to him and watched in awe as Rose created beautiful masterpieces with her flames, sending a searing heat spreading across the crowd who couldn’t seem to tear their eyes away from her creations. For the next half hour, Rose sent fiery phoenixes soaring above their heads, trailing sparks in their wake. Devils and angels grinned at them from the glowing flames, terrifying and enthralling at the same time. When Rose finally finished, she was completely drenched in sweat, but her eyes shone with a new confidence she hadn’t had before. Her exhilaration was infectious, and soon Mal found herself looking at the world through the same rose-coloured lens she’d had all through childhood.

  Finally, Mal had to get home. She was already lucky for her parents to let her stay at ‘Claire’s house’ for almost two days straight, she wasn’t going to push it by asking them if she could stay another night. She wound her way through the tangled labyrinth of woodland and paved streets before she got back to her house. As always, stepping through the front door of her house after spending even an hour at Tenebar was like stepping into another universe. Far away from the magic, mystery and magnificence of Tenebar, her home was structured around facts and governed by her reasonable and no-nonsense parents. Although she felt guilty for admitting it, Mal always felt resentful coming back home because she was forced back into the grief-stricken, suffocating structure her house had become since Felix died. When she walked through the door, the first thing she was met with was the tired and long-suffering gaze of her mum, so different from the euphoria in Rose’s eyes she had seen just moments ago.

  “Hey, Mal. Did you have a nice time at Claire’s?” Abigail asked.

  “Yeah, it was great,” Mal said, feeling a smile begin to creep across her face as she thought of everything that had happened at Tenebar. She wondered, not for the first time, what her parents would say if they knew the truth about where she had been.

  After a routine exchange of pleasantries, Mal retreated to her room and started examining her Spatium, running her fingers around the outside of it. To help cover it from her parents, Mal grabbed a few more bracelets and fastened them around her wrist, revelling in how unbelievable things were right now. The thought of the figure she’d seen as she walked off of stage nagged at her thoughts, constantly hovering around her, refusing to let her go. Persistently, she kept pushing it back to the depths of her mind, refusing to pay it any attention, but whenever she let her thoughts wander it came back to her more urgent than ever before.

  Eventually Mal decided that she just needed some sleep, so she got changed and slid beneath the covers. She had a hard time getting to sleep because every time she closed her eyes she thought she could feel someone standing over her bed, watching her, which would account for the prickling on the back of her neck and the way her stomach was churning. Finally, she closed her eyes and refused to open them, telling herself that the muttering she could hear coming from one corner of her room was her imagination.

  Chapter 11

  The next day started off as the first normal day Mal had enjoyed since she started going to Tenebar. Still disturbed by the events of yesterday, she made the decision to stay home today and fumbled for the ‘off’ switch on the alarm she had set for that day, struggling to see through her bleary eyes, and then she collapsed and slept for a few more hours, only getting up when she felt sure she could face the world without killing everyone within it.

  After getting breakfast and doing her best to ignore the snide comments from her parents about how late she had emerged from the safe bubble of her room, she watched some episodes of her favourite TV shows. She was only meant to watch one while she ate her breakfast, but then it ended on a cliff hanger and come on she had to watch the next episode...and the next...and the next...and before she knew it the sky outside was growing dark, she hadn’t moved from the comfortable sofa crease she had created, and she was a sobbing mess of emotions after one of her favourite characters had died. Of course she hadn’t done anything productive, and the pile of homework that she had to do was growing in size, but she had already convinced herself she could do it at 3am the day it was due, fuelled by nothing but desperation and energy drinks.

  Eventually, Abigail took over the TV and switched it to the news while lecturing Mal on how much time she’d spent watching TV that day. To distract herself from the irritating nature of the subject matter, Mal focused on the delicious smells and gentle sizzling coming from the kitchen where Peter was cooking, trying to guess what he was cooking for dinner and relying on the standard responses of “yes, mum,” and “I’m sorry,” to carry her through the conversation.

  When Abigail finally stopped talking and settled back into her chair, Mal stood up and stretched her aching muscles before walking to her room to retrieve her headphones. Watching the news always made her depressed, so she decided to drown it out using the even more depressing lyrics of her favourite emo bands.

  “How is it six o’clock already?” she muttered to herself as she turned on her phone so it would display the time. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket in a vain attempt to get rid of some of the guilt she felt at doing nothing all day and grabbed her headphones from her desk before she turned around.

  Standing just in front of her was a ghost. Mal knew that ghosts didn’t exist. She’d been told that several times by her parents when she was a child and freaking out about strange noises in her room. But there was no other word she could use to describe the white figure standing with her. It was more of a wavering, shapeless blob than anything else, made up of curling wisps of white-grey smoke. The fingers that protruded from its hands reached to its mid-thigh and were curled into claws that somehow managed to look sharp and vicious despite the gaseous state they were in.

  Mal’s head started to swim. She staggered backwards in an attempt to gain her balance, her mouth wide open with nothing coming out. She felt like she was caught in a terrible nightmare. The ghost’s mouth curled into a snarl, and black liquid started trickling from the dark pits that were its eyes. As it reached for Mal with grasping hands, she started to scream.

  The ghost froze, the snarl disappearing from its mouth and instead was replaced by an expression Mal could have sworn was close to nervousness, as if it was scared of loud noises. It swayed on the spot for a second, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Mal continued screaming hysterically. Her mum came crashing into the room, her own panic contributing to Mal’s terror. Wordlessly, Mal pointed at the spot the ghost had disappeared. Abigail looked at where she was pointing, confusion softening her feature for a second before fear made them sharp again. She tried to put her hands on Mal’s shoulders, but Mal shoved her away and kept trying to force words through the terrible lump in her throat. She was gripped with an urge to make Abigail understand that was so intense it rattled her bones. She could see the panic in Abigail’s eyes increasing, but she didn’t care. Abruptly, Mal stopped screaming and clapped both hands over her mouth, staring at the floor with wide eyes and shaking violently. She felt like she was going to be sick.

  Cautiously, Abigail reached out and wrapped both arms around her daughter, stroking the sweaty mess that was her hair and talking softly into her ear. A part of Mal wanted to throw her arms off of her, but a much larger part, the innocence that she still carried with her from childhood, believed that her mother’s arms could protect her from anything. Mal forced herself to relax and breathed in the perfume Abigail always wore, just managing to make itself known through the smell of coffee that followed Abigail wherever she went. Gradually, Mal’s breathing returned to normal, even though her heart was still beating wildly and her eyes erratically darted around the room, half-hopeful and half-terrified that she’d see another wisp of white smoke.

  “Do you want some tea?” Abigail said. She
was of the strong opinion that a good cup of tea could fix anything. Even if Mal had refused, Abigail probably would have poured the tea down her throat. They went into the kitchen and Mal sat at the table, resting her head on her arms as she watched Abigail’s shaky hands make a cup of tea for Mal and a cup of coffee for her. She set the steaming mug of lemon tea in front of Mal and then sat across from her. They drank in silence for a few minutes, just until Mal felt she could speak without throwing up.

  “Can I try some of your coffee?” Mal asked curiously.

  Abigail looked up and smiled comfortingly as she handed Mal the cup. Mal cradled it in her hands, inhaling the familiar smell, before she raised it to her lips and took a sip of the dark brown liquid. “Ugh. Bad idea,” she said in disgust, thrusting it away from her. Abigail chuckled as she took the cup back, but despite the easy and relaxed sound her eyes were still wary. She was afraid Mal would start screaming again. She had never felt more helpless then when her daughter was standing in front of her, white as a sheet and shrieking, completely taken over by something she could not understand. Although it made her feel guilty to admit it, she was never more afraid of another person then she was of her daughter at that moment.

  “So, sweetie, what happened? What did you see?” Abigail asked gently, reaching across the table to take Mal’s hand.

  Mal looked away and stared into her cup, wondering how she could phrase this without sounding like she belonged in a padded cell. Finally, she saw no other option. “A ghost,” she admitted.

  “A ghost?”

  “Yeah. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.” Mal said, hearing a plea in her voice for her mum to understand, to listen.

  “Who did the ghost look like?”

  “It didn’t really look like anyone...it was like a white, vaguely human-shaped haze, but it had black holes for eyes and they were leaking everywhere.”

  Abigail bit her lip and Mal felt her heart sink faster than a stone in water. “You do believe me, don’t you mum?” Mal asked.

  “Ghosts don’t exist, Mal,” Abigail said hesitantly.

  “Well this one does,” Mal said stubbornly. “Or maybe it wasn’t a ghost. It didn’t really look like how ghosts are supposed to look in the movies. Maybe it was a spirit? Or some kind of celestial apparition? But they’re meant to foreshadow something, right? Oh god, are we going to die?” Mal realised she was rambling and abruptly stopped, waiting with lowered eyes for her mum to say something.

  “Or maybe you were just seeing things, sweetheart,” Abigail reasoned. “Have you been getting enough sleep? Are you stressed?”

  “I’ve been getting plenty of sleep,” Mal snapped, which she knew wasn’t helping, but she didn’t care. As for whether or not she was stressed, well there was something about having the fate of the entire world resting on your shoulders that worried some people. But it was probably best not to mention that. “And I wasn’t seeing things. It was real, mum. It was right there, in my room, and it was terrifying.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Abigail said, realising that Mal was becoming agitated and trying to calm her down. But it was the wrong move. Mal, who hated being patronized, had to clench her teeth together to stop herself from shrieking. She knew that Abigail was just doing her best to help, but she just didn’t understand. No one did. How original, Mal thought to herself sceptically. A teenage girl thinking that no one understands her. Revolutionary.

  Just then, the front door swung open and Mal’s dad walked in. His smile slipped from his face as he took in the expressions on the faces of the two people he cared about more than anyone else in the whole world. Mal couldn’t help but feel guilty. It was so rare to see him smile these days. “What’s going on?” he asked cautiously.

  Deep down, Mal knew that telling him would be a mistake. As a scientist, his entire world revolved around facts and statistics. He would never believe her. Regardless, Mal felt the words slipping out. “I saw a ghost.”

  Peter’s brow furrowed. “Ghosts don’t exist.”

  “That’s what I told her,” Abigail said helplessly.

  “Did you see it too?” Peter asked, coming round to kiss Abigail’s forehead.

  “No. I just heard Mallika screaming in her room and she told me she saw a ghost.” Abigail’s voice was strained.

  The room was silent for a moment as Peter walked to Mal and kissed her on the cheek, laying one hand on her shoulder as he did so. When he pulled away, he said “hey, you’re shaking.”

  “I’m scared,” Mal admitted, hating how small her voice sounded. She could almost hear Rose mocking her for being a wuss, and the thought made her sit up a little straighter.

  “You were seeing things,” Peter said, and he sounded so sure and dismissive that Mal wanted to slap him. “It can’t hurt you.”

  “You weren’t there,” Mal said. “You didn’t see it. It was real.”

  “It may have seemed real to you, but it was just your imagination.”

  “My imagination isn’t that vivid.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’re always daydreaming about something. You have a very active imagination,” Peter said, grinning at her. Mal managed a weak smile back.

  “There’s my girl,” Peter said, swooping down to kiss her again before heading down the corridor to get changed.

  Mal managed to keep her illusion of calm in place for the rest of the evening. Her shoulders were tense and she jumped at small noises, but she smiled reassuringly at her parents when they looked towards her with questioning eyes. It’s crazy what you can hide behind a simple smile.

  Chapter 12

  That night, Mal couldn’t bring herself to turn off her light. She sat in her bed with her back pressed firmly against the wall, with her wide eyes staring at where she had seen the ghost. She was gripping her knife so tightly her knuckles were white. To her immense guilt, she realised that she’d been wishing she was back at Tenebar. Mal remembered her parents reactions when she told them about the ghost, and wondered what their reactions would be if she told them about the girl who could send curtains of fire cascading around them, or the boy that could create jets of water so powerful they broke through stone in an instant. Most of all, she wondered what they would say if she told them that she could control the most powerful magic known to mankind, and the fate of the world was directly connected to whether she lived or died. Mal tensed up and pressed herself against the wall even harder, wincing as her spine rammed into the hard surface.

  Suddenly, a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, tearing through her being and bolting her to where she was sitting. She seized her phone from her bedside table and scrolled through her contacts to find Felix’s number. Taking a deep breath, she unblocked it and hurriedly typed are you haunting me? Without pausing to give herself time to reconsider her decision, she pressed send and leaned back onto her wall, clutching her phone and waiting for a response. Almost immediately, her phone buzzed.

  What the hell, Mal! Why did you block me?

  Because I don’t know who you are! Answer the question

  You do know who I am. It’s Felix

  Mal groaned in frustration and almost slammed her head against her wall, against her better judgement. Answer the question she typed again.

  ‘Felix’ took a lot longer to respond this time. Finally, his response came as No. What are you talking about?

  I saw a ghost

  Whose ghost was it?

  I don’t know! If you really are Felix, can’t you just ask around the afterlife or something and see who it is? Mal knew she sounded completely insane, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  That’s not how it works

  You’re useless, Mal typed, feeling more frustrated with herself then whoever was on the other side of the phone.

  Have you taken my advice and left Tenebar?

  Mal couldn’t deal with this. She blocked the number again and put her head in her hands. Her head felt like it was about to split open. There were so many confli
cting ideas rocketing around her skull and bouncing off of each other that she didn’t know what to think anymore.

  Suddenly, Mal became aware that the hallway light was on. It was well past midnight, what was someone else doing awake? Cautiously, she opened her bedroom door and stepped outside. “Dad?” she asked meekly.

  Peter swivelled himself around on his chair at the kitchen table. He smiled gently when he saw her standing there. “Hey. Can’t you sleep?”

  Mal shook her head.

  “Is it the ghost?”

  Mal nodded.

  Peter thought for a moment. “Come with me,” he said, standing up. Mal followed him down the corridor, their bare feet sticking to the wooden floor, and Peter opened the door to his office, standing aside so Mal could step inside. As Peter watched her walk into the room, he silently gave thanks that she hadn’t asked why he was awake at this time. She didn’t need to know.

  Mal’s feet sunk into the plush carpet of the room she hadn’t seen since Felix’s death. It looked exactly the same as she remembered it. There was the reading nook where she taught herself to read to the comforting rhythm of Peter’s laptop keys clicking. There was the desk her dad would always sit at, just as messy as it was when he worked at the university and surrounded by shelves of dusty objects like a golden telescope, a globe, and statues from all the places Peter has visited on his travels. Hanging on the wall in front of the desk were dozens of pictures Mal and Felix drew for him when they were younger, each one pinned to corkboards. Towering shelves of books on every subject imaginable turned the room into a veritable maze, the narrow gaps between the bookshelves creating twisting paths through the worlds contained in the manuscripts resting on heavy oaken shelves.

  Peter placed a gentle hand on Mal’s back and pushed her towards the reading nook. Mal curled up in one of the corners and watched the stars twinkle in the sky, fiddling with the heavy green curtains that framed the reading nook as she did so. When Peter came back, he was carrying several thick books that he placed next to him when he sat down with Mal. He pulled one off the pile and started to read it, showing sections to Mal so he could better explain the science behind hallucinations. Mal smiled and nodded and let him talk, not because she thought he could explain away the nightmares, but because she knew it would help him feel better.