by Vered Ehsani
Sara must have noticed my slightly distracted gaze, for she suddenly interrupted the sailor’s speech. “Michael, sir, I really need to check on my brother. You know, make sure he hasn’t fallen overboard. But thank you so very much!”
“Yeah, thanks,” I added hurriedly.
Michael looked a bit disappointed, but eager to get the last word in, he leaned closer and whispered loudly, “Maybe next time, I’ll tell what I’ve seen in these here waters, things you can’t imagine. And then there are those pirates …” He let his voice trail off as he nodded sagely at us, his eyes wide and glaring.
Hm. I figured that I probably knew quite a bit about the ocean, thanks to Discovery Channel and National Geographic. But before I could respond with a suitably sarcastic comment, there was more motion. I stared at the shadow-filled boxes, expecting to see just shadows and boxes. Instead, a pair of stony yellow eyes glared back. I couldn’t believe the animosity that poured out of those not-quite-human eyes. I felt a freezing dread rush over me like a glacier-fed river. I’ve never actually had a glacier-fed river rush over me, but I think I know what it would feel like.
While I was feeling more scared than I had ever thought possible, I felt, rather than saw, shadows begin to form. I tried to scream, or I thought about screaming, but even my mouth was locked by fear. Did I mention I was really scared?
“Let’s go,” Sarah said, and she moved in front of me, momentarily blocking my view. When I could see the boxes again, the eyes were gone and so was that freezing fear effect.
“Yeah, sure,” I whispered weakly, wishing I knew where I was going. I followed Sarah toward the entrance of the companionway.
“Well, Ash, I really should be checking on my brother. We’ll meet again, I expect!” Sara stated cheerfully. “Don’t stay hidden in your room!”
I nodded and mumbled something incoherent, and waited for her to pass through the door and disappear below. On the way, Sara politely nodded at a tall passenger wearing a dark blue travelling cloak; the hood of the garment was pulled over the man’s head, hiding his face in shadow. Something about the man’s posture reminded me of a vulture waiting for its prey to die. I think you get the idea of what state I was in. Vultures and death. I shivered and then began to panic. How was I supposed to get back?
“Mir,” I hissed quietly, as I began to walk around the deck. Eventually I found a place out of sight behind a large crate that was strapped down to the deck. “Mir!” There was still no response, and I began to wonder where the owner of the scary eyes had gone. Not that I really wanted to know, but I was just wondering. “Mir, come on; stop playing around! Where are you? I need to get out of here!”
I was stuck in another dimension hundreds of years before my own, and there was a scary-looking set of eyes lurking somewhere in the shadows, probably attached to some horribly mutated monster. Could it get any worse?
Oh, look, it just did.
As fear overwhelmed my focus, I saw my limbs fade. Just then, one of the sailors strolled around the crate, whistling tunelessly, and saw a translucent boy (that would be me) hovering above the deck. The man’s eyes bulged as he turned and ran down the deck.
“Ah, man, I have to get out of here!” I shouted. Desperation almost choked me. Seriously, I was having trouble breathing properly, and apparently I didn’t even have to breathe (not having a body and all). And then, to top it all off, I heard the sound of fabric swishing as someone approached steadily, purposefully, toward the crate from the other side. I didn’t know why that should be scary, but it was.
“Ashish,” a scratchy voice whispered along the breeze. “I have been waiting.”
Okay, that was scary. Just the sound of the nightmarish voice was enough to cause my muscles to clench in terror. I mean, I really couldn’t move. Again. That freezing fear effect. It really sucked. And on top of that, I knew I couldn’t let whoever, or whatever, it was touch me. “Mir!” I shrieked, not caring who heard or what I sounded like. But the truth is that my throat was so constricted that my voice came out as an embarrassing squeak. “I need the veil!”
The moment my thoughts turned to the veil, I suddenly saw it. It was everywhere, all around me, shimmering like cream-colored silk of unbelievable fineness. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Without waiting for an answer or for my portal home to disappear again, I released my breath with a gush of relief and gratefully jumped toward the veil. In my eagerness, I hurtled so fast across it that I literally flew through the other side and was back in a solid body (my body—I’d never appreciated how wonderful it was!) and sitting at my desk in one fluid motion. With a shaking hand that was solid and real, I slammed the book shut, and a gust of salty air seemed to hover around me for a brief moment before evaporating.
Now, in case you have any doubts on the matter, being a ghost sucks. I really don’t recommend it. I mean, even if you aren’t actually dead when you become a ghost and you just happen to lose your body somehow (like, say, in my case), it still sucks. Think about it: you’re floating along and you see something you’d like and you reach down to scoop it up. Oops, your hand passes straight through. What the … oh yeah, too bad, you can’t have it, ‘cause you need a body to pick it up or shake a person’s hand or open a door rather than walk through it.
I did not like being a ghost, even if it was only part-time.
Chapter 6
The book stayed closed and in my school bag for several days. It was stuck in between a jumble of normal school books, undone homework, and a collection of pens (most of which didn’t work but I hadn’t bothered to throw them out). But I could feel it. Sounds weird, but I could: the heaviness of its presence, its tempting and frightening attraction. Still, I refused to give up my determination to rid myself of it and any trace of the bizarre from my life. Well, at least that was my personal goal: have a normal life.
But it was like an iron filing trying to resist a magnet (yeah, I know, a pretty poetic image). I constantly felt its pull. The only good thing about the book was that the shadows didn’t approach me when I had it nearby. They were there, all around; I could sense them. I could still occasionally see faint shadows of other people, moving independently from their owners, especially when there was a heated argument or nasty gossiping. But at least they stayed well away from me. It was like I was surrounded by an invisible globe of light that killed any darkness before it could touch me. So I carried my school bag wherever I went, even to bed.
Talking about bed, I was having trouble sleeping. It was getting to be a habit, and not a good one. One night, I tossed about for an hour. So finally I sat up in frustration and turned on the bedside lamp. The room was full of shadows. None of them were moving just then—lucky me. Never had my bedroom felt so alien, so scary. Well, I figured I wasn’t going to sleep so I rolled out of bed, went to the desk, and switched on my computer. A search engine automatically filled the screen. Did I want to do a search? My gaze inadvertently shifted to my bedside table, where the book waited for me. Yes, it was waiting. I could feel it!
Don’t believe me? Well, explain this: I shuffled over to pick up my school bag to put it beside me. My fingers brushed the leather pouch (it was sticking out of the open bag) and I felt something, like a very mild electric shock. You know, the kind you get when you touch something that has a lot of static on it. And even weirder, I felt both repulsed and attracted. The sensation was bewildering. Well, then I did something not so wise: I pulled the heavy book out of my bag and slid it out of its pouch and onto my desk. Not only was it not wise, it wasn’t even smart.
I stared at the thick leather cover and started talking out loud. That couldn’t be a good sign. “What are you? Who’s Kali? Is he looking for me? Does he know where I am? And where’s Bibi? What was she thinking, giving this to me?”
Not surprisingly, I didn’t get any answers. So I just sat there, slumped in my chair, the glow of the computer screen illuminating my face. Shifting the book to the center of the desk, I chewed at my lower lip and tugged at a lo
ck of hair. I did that when I was nervous. I was plenty nervous.
“Just walk away,” I told myself in a strained whisper. Yes, I was talking out loud. Again. “For heaven’s sake, close the book and toss it away tomorrow, first thing in the morning. This is not normal and it’ll only get you into trouble. And what’s the point?”
You need to make a choice. Be positive. Focus on the constructive forces.
Now I was hearing things. No, actually I was just remembering Bibi’s words. I frowned at her instructions. On the other hand, I told myself, if I tossed the book aside, things might just go back to normal. This really wasn’t my battle and what was so bad about sitting on the fence anyway? There was nothing wrong with my simple and safe motto (at least, it had kept me safe so far): Keep out of other people’s business, stay out of trouble, and don’t rock the boat.
Boat.
Actually, it was a ship, a ship called Excalibur. Images of the ship cutting through the waves filled my mind, and my heart sped up at the thought of being on it. You see where this is going. Without thinking (obviously I wasn’t thinking at this point), I flipped open the cover to the page with Sara in the cottage. The image seemed different. After a moment of studying it, I saw why: the painting’s colors looked faded and muted. The same was true of the next page showing the dock. When I hesitatingly touched the surface, there was no pull; no portal opened, and no veil descended. That was a good thing. I really should have just stopped right then and there. But no …
I flipped to another page and it was vibrant with color, and the swirls of paint were fresh, as if just brushed on, and so alive that they almost seemed to move. I suspected that if I touched this surface, it would pull me into the scene that showed the Excalibur skimming along the surface of the ocean under a moonlit sky. As if this thought had been a command, my hand moved of its own volition and dropped onto the painting. Barely aware that I had done this, I blinked in shock as I felt the familiar vacuum-like pull, and then I was floating inside the veil, gazing down at the Excalibur from a short distance away.
The Excalibur was floating peacefully on a smooth, silvery ocean, stars twinkling brightly above, while dark clouds rapidly gathered on the horizon. The only sounds were the gentle slosh of water against the wooden hull and the soft flapping of the sails. There were few lights on board, and I figured that almost everyone was asleep (lucky them), except for a solitary figure strolling along the deck, wrapped up tightly in a travelling cloak. There was something vaguely familiar about the man, but before I could approach the ship to find out, the passenger went down the companionway and the ship was completely deserted-looking.
“Well, so much for that,” I said to myself, both relieved and disappointed that there was nothing else to see. I turned to go. “Argh!” I shouted. Mir was standing, or rather floating, between me and my bedroom. I really hadn’t seen that coming.
“Argh to you too!” she replied good-naturedly. “Can’t sleep?”
I shook my head, and then remembered my grudge against her. “Now you’re here,” I grumbled in a grumpy voice. “Now, after abandoning me, without telling me how to get back.”
“And you did very well,” she responded, her little face beaming at me. Obviously, I hadn’t sounded grumpy enough. “Keep it up, and decide how you want to live your life.”
“That’s helpful,” I mumbled irritably, keeping with the grumpy theme. Not only was she an irritating little person, she was also an irritating little person who liked to give unwanted advice. I floated around her, approaching the veil.
“It should be,” Mir commented as she followed me. “Decide which of the forces you will side with.”
I glanced back at her, confused enough to forget being irritated. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“If you don’t decide consciously, the negative forces will get a hold of you.”
“So if I don’t make this choice, it’ll be made for me and it won’t be good.” Why was I even talking with her?
“Something like that,” she responded with a chuckle.
“Great, just what I need. More weirdness in my life,” I muttered, thinking that it was pretty much unfair, because either way, it meant trouble. Trouble was something I really tried to avoid.
Her bright eyes glowed softly as she studied me. It’s not comfortable, being studied like that, like a bug under a microscope or a frog that’s just about to be dissected. Ouch. Then she responded, “This is only the beginning.”
“Thanks a lot,” I retorted, determined to remain annoyed with her for abandoning me. Oh yeah, I was in a nasty mood. I reached my hand towards the veil.
“So why are you here?”
“Ah,” I stuttered, not sure why. “I guess I just wanted to see that they’re okay.”
Mir nodded. “That’s very noble of you, Ash, especially considering Sara is your great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, give or take a few greats.”
That got my attention. It also knocked down my not-so-noble efforts to remain grumpy. I stared at her. “But she’s not Indian.” Then I remembered that one of my great-grandparents wasn’t either. Hm. “That explains why she seems familiar. She’s my mom’s ancestor!”
“Yes. Now how’s that for weird!” She looked really happy about that. I was not. I shifted out of the veil and back to my desk. I sat down in front of my computer and, without thinking, I flicked my mouse to end the constant swirling of the screensaver. Then I just sat there, staring at the screen. I was tired but I still didn’t feel sleepy.
“What’re you doing now?” Mir’s voice floated up from my desk. Great. Now she was following me into my world.
Obviously, I didn’t want to just sit staring at a screen, so I replied, without thinking, just to say something, “Finding out about the Excalibur.” It sounded like a good idea anyway, so I began to type.
Mir hummed and then asked, “Find anything yet?”
I glanced at the book, feeling an urge to shut it, but I restrained myself. Besides, Mir wasn’t really in there. She was now suspended above my computer as a very pale version of herself. “No, I just started.”
“Find anything now?” she inquired as her torso sunk into the computer screen, so that only her head showed above it.
“Mir! It will take a minute!” I grumbled, barely restraining the urge to shout as I scanned the search results. Most of them were references to King Arthur’s sword.
“You should control that temper,” came her ghostly response. “Anger, like lying, is not a good idea this close to the veil. ‘What you focus on …’”
“‘You become,’” I finished the quote. “Yeah, I get it.” I breathed deeply, trying to clear my annoyance as I narrowed the search to include a ship. I told myself she probably had no clue about the Internet.
“Wow,” she commented, “your Internet connection sure is slow.”
“That’s it!” I exclaimed and was about to slam the book shut, when my eyes caught a glimpse of a site that looked like it might be helpful. I clicked on the link, which took me to a page entitled “The History of Ships.”
“Looks promising,” I muttered, steadfastly ignoring Mir as she started to sing some nonsensical lyrics to an unrecognizable song. I began to explore the site. Mir had gone through the song three times and was starting in on the fourth (talk about annoying) when I found it.
“The Excalibur!” I announced triumphantly. “Imagine that! It’s mentioned here!” Eagerly I skimmed through the description, reading aloud. “The Excalibur was used mainly for ferrying settlers from Europe to the New World until December 1773.”
I paused as I scratched my chin. “What happened in December 1773?” I asked myself. The date sounded so familiar. Probably something from my history class, I thought bitterly. And guess what? For the first time in my existence, I actually wished I had paid more attention.
Mir was no longer singing, and remained silent, floating above my desk, her form shimmering and so faded that I could see straight through her
to my school calendar hanging on the wall behind her. Frowning, I skimmed the rest of the article, but only toward the end did I see the date again. And then I realized why it was familiar.
“Sara’s supposed to be landing in time for Christmas with her father,” I thought aloud. “And Michael said the Excalibur was built in 1770 and was three years old, which means it is December 1773 right now for them.” My relief at sorting out that little mystery was short-lived as I reread the last passage. “Oh, no,” I breathed out painfully.
If I was correct about the date, Sara and Samuel would never see land again.
Chapter 7
Well, after that realization, I was so overwhelmed and shaking that I couldn’t think of what to do next. I was horrified by the thought that I might be right, and desperately hoped I was wrong. I also knew there was only one way to find out for sure. I turned toward the Book of History. The picture had changed dramatically. Gone was the tranquil ocean with clouds in the distant horizon. Instead, the entire sky was obscured by black, boiling shadows, their furry reflected in the agitated waves. In the midst of this darkness was the Excalibur, locked in the violent grip of a mighty storm.
Sara was in there. I didn’t know why I should worry about her … oh, yeah, she was my great-great-great-grandmother, give or take a great or two. And on top of my worry for her and Samuel, I had the sinking (ha ha) feeling that I was about to do something totally rash, crazy, and potentially life-threatening. Apparently Mir had a similar feeling.
“Ash …” Mir began.
“Not now, Mir,” I interrupted her before she could give me some common sense warning about the dangers of going onto the ship right before it was destined by history to crash on some rocks and dump everyone into the ocean to drown. To be honest, I was also having my own common sense warning, and it was shouting loud and clear: Get back into bed and go to sleep! Stay out of trouble and out of history! I guess my hearing isn’t very good, because I pushed on. “Bibi said I had to make a choice between fence-sitting and acting. Well, if there was ever a time to act, it’s now.”