Bright Obscurity

by Ruby Brown

  When Peter’s eyes started to droop close, Mal told him she was going back to bed so he could as well. Wearily, he stood up and walked to the exit with Mal trailing in his wake, then gave her a final hug before traipsing back to bed. Mal couldn’t sleep for the rest of night; she stayed awake staring at the ceiling, torturing herself with countless questions with evasive answers. When she looked out of her window and saw the sun beginning to rise, she decided she’d go to Tenebar and talk to the others about what she’d seen. She threw on the first clothes she could find, scrawled a note saying she’d gone for a walk and put it on the kitchen table before leaving, and sincerely hoped her parents wouldn’t be too worried. She arrived at Tenebar just as the sun was level with the forest, and the first things she saw were Rose and Dallas sparring on the grounds.

  Dallas looked up as she approached, and the momentary distraction meant that he got roundhouse kicked in the face. He staggered backwards and then shot a mildly annoyed look at Rose as blood poured from his nose. “Sorry,” Rose said, smirking. “You left yourself open.”

  “Quick tip, most people don’t kick their friends in the face,” Dallas said.

  “Yeah, but I’m not like most people,” Rose replied, her smile becoming wider. Dallas attempted a friendly smile back, but due to the blood streaking his face and staining his teeth it was the stuff of nightmares.

  Rose looked at Mal. “What are you doing here so early?”

  “I saw something. Last night. And I know it’ll sound crazy but you need to believe me.” Dallas and Rose stood motionless as Mal told her story, using a variety of hand gestures and facial expressions to get her point across and try to get some reaction out of the two people before her. But she might as well have been talking to a pile of bricks for all the response she got.

  When had finished, Rose shook herself slightly and then scoffed. “Mal, ghosts don’t exist.”

  “I’m getting really tired of hearing people say that,” Mal said through gritted teeth.

  “Why are you telling us this anyway? What can we do?” Rose asked.

  “Considering that you can shoot fire from your hands, I figured you’d have at least a little more belief in unusual occurrences,” Mal said, frustrated.

  “Being able to shoot fire from your hands isn’t unusual. It’s actually the most common element to control,” Rose said matter-of-factly. “Seeing things, however? That’s a clear indication that you’ve completely lost it.”

  “I wasn’t seeing things! It was really there.”

  “Sure,” Rose said. “Can you leave now? Dallas and I are fighting and you’re getting in the way.”

  Mal turned on her heel and stormed off back home. She knew she must look like an angry toddler, but she didn’t care. She’d thought that, with all the other unbelievable things happening in their world on a daily basis, they’d be a little more open to the whole ghost theory then her parents were. Guess not. Mal’s parents were still sleeping when she got back home, so she threw the note away and made herself some breakfast so she could eat as she watched the sky slowly change from pinks and oranges and yellows to a bright blue flecked with white clouds.

  “Mal, you there?” called her mum, her words slurred from tiredness. Mal sighed and walked back into the house, planting a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m here,” she said.

  Abigail was slumped at the kitchen table in her tattered blue dressing gown, holding a mug of coffee in her hands. “What are you doing awake so early?” she mocked.

  “I don’t know. I must be insane.”

  “Did you see the ghost again last night?” Abigail asked, smirking. Beyond the gentle teasing, Mal could see real concern. She was shaken, and Mal couldn’t help but feel guilty. Abigail had been through so much, and now Mal was dragging her down through another nightmare. That’s when she decided that no matter what happened from here on, she would deal with it herself.

  “No,” Mal said, and then laughed before abruptly stopping when she realised how high-pitched it sounded, more like the cackle of a sea witch then a 16 year old girl. “I think I was just sleep deprived and it was making me see things. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

  “Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. Why were you sleep deprived?”

  For a split second, Mal was tempted to tell her the truth. “I’ve been staying up binge-watching anime.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes. “Of course you have.”

  Mal smiled and eased herself away from the conversation with the excuse of doing homework, just so she could retreat to her room until she felt ready to come outside again. She spent the rest of the day at home, plagued by the thought that she should be spending her spare time at Tenebar, but she was still resentful of the way Rose had mocked her earlier that day. To distract her itching hands she actually started doing her homework, although it was difficult to find space in the clattering thoughts of her mind for algebra problems and essays about meaningless issues. She was borderline obsessive about the ghost she had seen, more inquisitive then scared now that it wasn’t right there in front of her. She sketched pictures of it in the corners of her notebooks and searched for images and articles, but couldn’t find anything substantial enough to ease her burning curiosity.

  When Abigail called her to dinner, she pushed her homework to one side and went to sit at the table. She ate without tasting, too preoccupied to take much notice, but careful enough to keep a vague interest in the conversation her parents were having so they didn’t ask questions she couldn’t answer. She speared a piece of food on the end of her fork and looked up to nod encouragingly at some mundane point her dad was making when she saw it again. It was standing behind her dad, staring straight at Mal. As soon as it realised she had noticed it, the same black liquid poured from its eyes and its mouth twisted into the same scowl. A quick glance at the expressions on the faces of her parents told her that she was the only one who could see it.

  Terror gripped her so tightly she felt like her ribcage would collapse in its clasp. She averted her eyes and shovelled some more food into her mouth, repeating to herself over and over again that it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real and praying that if she ignored it, it would go away. A metallic taste filled her mouth and there was a ringing in her ears that got louder and louder till she could no longer hear anything else. She clamped her teeth shut to stop herself from screaming. She was still chewing the food she had shoved into her mouth, her jaw working mechanically despite the fact that the food was already mush. If she acted normal, it would go away.

  That’s when she heard the moaning, the low and unintelligible muttering in her ear that made her flesh crawl. She snapped her head up and realised that the ghost was centimetres away from her face. It had walked straight through the middle of the table and now it was standing in front of her, half in half out of the table, with guttural sounds coming from its mouth and the black liquid falling fast and hard like a veritable waterfall. The scream Mal had been supressing finally wrenched itself free of her throat, so loud and sharp that it hurt her. She pushed herself away from the table and staggered backwards, hitting the wall hard. The ghost wavered and shook violently before disappearing, just like before. Mal’s parents stood up and came towards her, demanding to know what had happened.

  Mal opened her mouth and was about to tell them when she remembered the promise she had made herself last night. No matter what happened, she would deal with it herself. So she forced herself to cage her terror the same way you would restrain a rabid dog and curled her lips upward in a gruesome parody of a smile. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m okay,” she said reassuringly.

  “Then what was all that about?” Peter shouted.

  Mal thought frantically of an excuse. “I...um...I thought I saw something outside the window,” she said, and pointed to the window directly behind Peter. Luckily, both her parents turned around to look, and they didn’t see the way her hands were shaking. “But then I realised it was just some kind of animal. Sorry for scaring you.”r />
  Peter and Abigail looked at each other, and Mal knew that they didn’t believe her, but unlike last time she didn’t care. She started rambling off a list of excuses that may or may not have made sense as she headed for her room and shut the door behind her. Unwilling to face the overbearing concern of her well-meaning parents, Mal stayed in her room for the rest of the night, but slept with her knife under her pillow and her hand grasping the handle.

  The knife never left her side over the course of the next few days. She walked around with it tucked into the waistband of her jeans in order to conceal it from her parents, but whenever she could she had it in her hand. Even though she knew stabbing the ghost didn’t work (she’d already tried), having it within her sight comforted her. So far, the only thing she could find that made the ghost disappear was to alert someone else to its presence. As a result, Mal had been trying to stay around as many people as she could, but being naturally introverted this was starting to take its toll on her and the ghost always disappeared just before the other person saw it, leaving Mal with a lot of strange looks and curiosity.

  Mal had figured out that the ghost appeared every day at 6pm, like clockwork, so generally she acted normal for most of the day until the sky started to darken. Then she was obsessively checking the time, her muscles getting tenser and her breathing getting shallower with every minute that passed. But at least both of her parents were home by six, so she had a way to get rid of the ghost.

  One day, Mal came home from school to an eerily silent house. She knew her mum was out at a business dinner, but her dad almost never left the house. She checked the time and reassured herself that she still had a few hours before the ghost arrived, but even so the thought that no one else was home sat like a heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. She sent her dad a text asking where he was, and got a response a few minutes later. Turns out he had forgotten to buy a birthday present for one of his siblings and was taking the train to the city to get them something.

  Mal felt her anxiety spike and hurriedly forced herself to calm down. It took at least an hour and a half to get to the city and back by train, and her dad was well known for taking far longer at the shops then necessary. She could remember many traumatic shopping trips as a child that mainly consisted of her tugging on his sleeve and groaning in annoyance when he found something interesting and wandered off. Even a trip to the supermarket took forever as he would stand in the aisles and deliberate on the nutritional value and price of each item. For a scientist, he had a surprisingly short attention span.

  Hoping to speed up his process, Mal sent him a list of items she thought her aunt might like, and was annoyed with herself when she could only come up with a few specific objects. Her aunt was incredibly difficult to buy for, and it didn’t help that Mal only saw her once or twice a year at dreaded family get-togethers. All she could do now was wait and hope that he made it home before six.

  But that was starting to look more and more unlikely. Mal sat curled on the couch, blaring the television so loud she couldn’t hear herself think, with her phone and her knife on the table in front of her. Every few minutes she’d check the time, even though she knew all it would do was make her hands shake and her heart race as she frantically calculated the precious minutes she had before the ghost showed up. She didn’t know what to do. She’d never been in this position before. Hoping to calm her nerves, she stood in the centre of the room and practised the stabbing techniques Rose had shown her earlier. The physical exertion did help her slightly, but the resulting spike in adrenaline didn’t.

  A loud noise came from behind her, making her jump. Quick as she could, she swivelled around and pointed her knife at the source of the noise, having to physically restrain herself from lunging forwards when she realised it was just her phone ringing. Her dad was calling her. As she picked it up, she scolded herself for being so jumpy. She needed to get herself under control. What if that had been her dad, crashing through the front door in his usual clumsy manner, and she’d almost stabbed him?

  “Hey Dad,” Mal said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

  “Hey.” He sounded stressed. Shit.

  “Why are you calling?” Mal asked, forcing herself to sound light and breezy with only a slight hint of curiosity, not at all like she was having a mental breakdown. Wordlessly, she pleaded to some higher power that he wasn’t calling to deliver any bad news. He was just calling to check up on her, or ask her opinion on a gift, or ask her if she wanted him to pick up something on the way home, or...

  “The train’s broken down. I’m stuck here for the next hour or so.”

  That.

  “Oh, that...sucks,” Mal said pathetically, her brain already reeling with the weight of this information. She checked the clock. He wasn’t going to make it.

  “I’m just calling to check that you’re okay with being by yourself for a bit. I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

  “Yeah,” Mal said, her voice slightly choked. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Good girl. There’s leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, okay?”

  “Okay,” Mal said, cringing in disgust as she remembered the horrific disaster that was last nights’ meal. Her mum had decided to cook to make up for being away from home tonight, and to be fair she did try her best, but there’s a reason most of it was now sitting in a giant bowl in the fridge. Mal had no intention of going anywhere near it. Great, so on top of the high chances of being murdered by a ghost, she might also have to go to bed with no dinner.

  “You’ll probably appreciate the alone time anyway. It’ll give you a chance to watch those crappy TV shows you like without anyone complaining,” Peter joked.

  Mal glanced at the TV where one of those so-called ‘crappy’ TV shows was currently playing and doing absolutely nothing to help her nerves. “Yeah. Great.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  Not soon enough, Mal thought, but forced herself to sound cheery as she said goodbye and hung up the phone. She stared at it in her hand for a few seconds before throwing it into the couch with a small scream. She was frustrated, scared and angry all at once and the vicious combination was making her tear out her hair. She paced anxiously around the living room, wondering what the hell she was meant to do now. She pulled her phone towards her and started to search for ways to repel ghosts. There were lots of rituals and enchantments, but they were either too long or too complicated for her to do. One constant thing she could find was that ghosts didn’t like salt, so she grabbed a bottle of table salt, which was mercifully full, and poured all of it onto the floor in a thick circle that surrounded her. She stepped inside it and gripped her knife with both hands. She realised how stupid it was to cling to her knife when it was pretty much useless, but at this point it was instinct to have it resting safely in her hand and she didn’t feel right without it.

  She waited, crouched in her circle, for a few minutes until the air in front of her wavered and the ghost appeared. Mal didn’t know if it was just her anxiety, but it looked bigger than ever before, looming over her in such an intimidating manner that Mal had to force back the whimper of fear that threatened to bubble from her throat. She pushed down her fight or flight response and made herself stand tall, looking the ghost in the eyes as they started to leak that strange black liquid. It advanced towards her, and Mal held her breath as it came level with the protective salt circle surrounding her. She had backed herself up right to the very edge of it so she could feel some grains of salt crunching under her heels. Holding her breath, Mal watched with wide eyes as the ghost raised its foot...and placed it directly on top of the salt.

  Run.

  Mal ducked underneath the ghosts’ outstretched arm and bolted towards the door. She’d left it unlocked and in case she needed to get out, so she wrenched it open and tumbled into the cold air. A quick glance behind her revealed that the ghost was giving chase with fluid movements that were a world away from the usual jerky motions it used when it moved, like a puppe
t with its strings being yanked. It was gathering speed as it gave chase, seemingly aware of the fact that Mal was alone. She had no one to call on, no one to come and help her. She was just sprinting around the garden with no plan and nowhere to go where she couldn’t be followed. Suddenly, she saw something that made her freeze, the sudden stop making her skid and almost fall over on the wet grass.

  There were more ghosts. Materialising from seemingly nothing, they were gathering at the bottom of the garden and staggering towards her, carbon copies of each other. Mal didn’t take time to ponder this new development, she just wheeled herself around and saw that there were less ghosts nearer to the house, so she sprinted that way, ducking and weaving between them until she got inside and slammed the front door shut. Not knowing whether it would make a difference or not, she snatched her key from the cabinet and locked the door. She looked out of the living room window and clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle her scream as she saw the horde of ghosts advancing. She had no way of knowing whether there were more still coming.

  Backing away from the door, Mal uttered a string of swear words and prayed that they wouldn’t be able to get through the door. She was wrong. A horrible shriek tore itself from Mal’s mouth as hands started coming through the door and walls, followed by legs and torsos and twisted faces until the ghosts were standing inside her home. Her terror blinded her and almost made her fall as she staggered her way to the back exit, which was already clogged up with dozens of ghosts. As a last resort, Mal checked the windows again and saw that the ghosts had her surrounded. She couldn’t go outside without finding herself in the middle of a crowd of them, and her house was quickly filling up with ghosts like water would flow into a boat with a leak. Mal cursed herself for being so stupid. By letting the ghosts scare her so much it clouded her judgement, she’d headed straight back into the safest place she’d ever known and allowed the ghosts to corner her there. She felt tears pricking at her eyes and dashed them away angrily, forcing herself to look at the situation with cold logic, and found no way out of this. No matter where she went or what she did, she was dead.