G is for Ghosts

by Rhonda Parrish

  “Most live people can’t hear me. It’s been a long time since someone could hear me.”

  “What’s your name?” Back to basics. “What happened to you?”

  “I dropped my bear and the car didn’t see me.” Stated in the same tone of voice you might use to tell someone the time. “My name is Arthur. I’m still 7.”

  “I can come back and spend a whole afternoon talking to you, Arthur. But right now I need your help. A girl is in trouble and I want to help her. Do you know which way I’m supposed to go?”

  “Into the woods. Toward the mines. There is a very old one just inside the edge of the trees. Go toward the sun, that should work.”

  “Thank you, Arthur. I will come back to see you. I promise.”

  “That would be nice. I wonder if my parents could come too?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m a private investigator. I am very good at finding people. If they can be found, I can do that for you.”

  “Okay,” he sounded a little happier. Maybe. That was what she told herself as she moved toward the trees.

  “See you soon, Arthur. Bye for now.” Not for the first time, she wished she could touch or see the spirits she could hear. This little boy’s ghost could definitely use a hug. But if she could touch them, then they could touch her and not all of them were friendly. It was safer for her to only be able to hear them. To always be able to escape just by leaving the area to which they were tethered.

  She walked toward the sun, back across the gravel to a rocky and weed-covered open space. Stepping carefully to avoid broken bottles and other trash hidden under the wild groundcover, she reached the woods unscathed. The cool shade smelled of earth and green and the fading edge of night.

  “Who is there?” Anonymous woods behind a cemetery, another unlikely location for finding a ghost at peace. This process would have been nerve wracking on a good night’s sleep. After last night’s hours of forced alertness, she was working hard to hold onto her focus. “I need to know which direction.”

  “Someone actually came?” A female voice. “Will wonders never cease. Okay. Keep on east until you hit the stream. Then follow it south until you find Oswald. He should be able to tell you where to cross.”

  “Thank you.” She started walking, watching for hidden sticks and roots as she wound between the trees. “My name is Sonia. Are you buried here? Or did you die here?”

  “Yes, on both counts. Come back another day and I’ll tell you the whole sad story,” a wry laugh, “but right now I’m feeling nostalgic. Maybe there is room for one more happy ending in the world.”

  “I hope so.” Sonia’s eyes began to droop, her first wave of adrenaline fading as her night of no sleep caught up to her. “Do you like to sing?” Singing would keep her awake.

  “Sing? I haven’t tried singing in a long time.” The voice paused, then burst loud into Sonia’s mind with the chorus of a bawdy folk song.

  The spirit’s voice was a lovely soprano and Sonia joined in, adding harmony in her alto range where she could work it out. Singing invigorated her and she felt her feet moving faster, her eyes were clearer. They took turns picking what to sing and soon she found the stream. Before turning south, Sonia took her time choosing the next song and knelt by the water.

  Dappled sunshine danced on the water’s surface. Tiny fish zipped back and forth. Sonia splashed her face with water and drank from her cupped hands. Her hair fell forward, splashing full into the water and scaring away the tiny fish.

  “Sorry, little fish.” she smiled, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. If it weren’t for the emergency waiting somewhere ahead of her and her fabric-wrapped feet this could have just been a lovely walk in the woods.

  She stood up, squared her shoulders in the right direction and launched into another folk song her grandmother used to sing. The nameless ghost joined back in, singing until Sonia could not hear her. Sonia kept singing the song and eventually a male voice joined in for the last stanza.

  “Lovely singing voice, my dear,” Oswald said after they finished out the song. “You are here to help with our little emergency?”

  “Yes,” Sonia smiled, “yes—emergency ghost support, at your service.” She laughed at herself and dipped into a clumsy curtsy, hitting that strange, vibrational hyper-awakeness that comes after being awake for well more than 24 hours. “Do you know what the emergency is? None of the others could tell me.”

  “A young girl is trapped in one of the old mine shafts. Some sort of wild cat is there too. I don’t know how old she is or what she was doing there - but whoever found her pushed his voice to its loudest to call for help.”

  “Thank you. Across the stream here?” Sonia gestured at the shallow water.

  “Yes. And then there is a path just past that stand of evergreens that should take you the right way. There are lots of us out here. These mines were not kind to humans over the years. I guess it makes it less lonely for us, even the ones whose bodies were never put to rest.”

  “Are there songs that you all sang together? Songs that could help me find each of my guides the rest of the way?”

  So they sang. She didn’t measure time by her watch. She measured time by the songs and the changing voices that joined in. Some songs she recognized. Some were new to her, but they always had an easy chorus to join in on.

  The combination of the hard packed earth beneath her feet and the new voices joining from somewhere down the path made it easier to navigate. Not knowing how far she had left to go, she walked at her fastest pace without running.

  Eight songs later, she came out of the woods into a weed-strewn clearing. Decaying wood boards partially blocked the entrance to an abandoned mine cut into the side of the hill. Faded, barely legible, red paint letters spelled ‘DANGER - KEEP OUT’.

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket to check for signal. Barely one bar, here in the middle of who knew where. It didn’t matter. Calling in an emergency based on what ghosts told you wasn’t a good way to get help. Someone must already be looking for this little girl. She pulled up a map on her phone to see where the nearest communities were. Where could she have come from to get in here unsupervised?

  There were a few neighborhoods about a mile away. Certainly too far. A state park just to the north had a few summer campgrounds.

  Barefoot and with just her phone for light, it would be slow going inside. But she couldn’t convince herself that hiking through the park to try and find humans looking for a child was the better plan.

  “Please hurry,” an urgent male voice from beyond the danger sign, “The little girl isn’t making any sounds. She had been crying and calling for help, but we’re worried she is fading.”

  Sonia stashed her phone and stared at the makeshift socks covering her feet. Not as good as shoes, but better than nothing. At least her tetanus shot was up to date.

  “How far do I have to go?” Sonia pulled a board aside until she could squeeze past. The shift from the bright summer day outside to the dank dark tunnel was jarring. She let her eyes adjust a little before turning on her phone’s flashlight.

  “Come forward and take the 2nd fork to the left. It isn’t far.” The slim beam of light helped her pick through the debris on the tunnel floor.

  Other voices whispered all around her as she moved down the tunnel looking for the left turn.

  “I can hear you all. Help me find her, please.” They guided her, cautioning Sonia to move slowly and not knock anything that might fall or lead the tunnel to collapse.

  It took her greatest self control to not run the last 50 feet when she could see pink sneakers peeking out from under a broad piece of lumber at the bottom of a pile of wood, rocks, and dirt. The ghosts stopped talking as she reached the girl.

  Gentle fingertips on the girl’s ankle reassured Sonia with skin warm to the touch.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?” The ghosts understood that she spoke to the girl and stayed quiet. “I’m here to
help.”

  The foot her hand rested on twitched.

  “Who’s there?” A tiny voice that seemed much too far away. “I can’t move.”

  “My name is Sonia. I’m here to help. What’s your name?”

  “Nora. I’m seven. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

  Sonia wished that Nora had also been taught not to wander into dark tunnels. “I promise I will tell your parents that you remembered that rule, but right now you need help to get out—right?”

  “Yes,” it sounded like she was crying a little now, “My legs hurt.”

  “Does anything else hurt?”

  “My back hurts where the rocks are pushing. And my head hurts from where I hit it on something.”

  “Can you see any light?” Sonia moved her phone’s light slowly across the gaps she could see.

  “A little. Is that you?”

  “Yes. Can you feel my hand touching your ankle?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Okay. Be very brave and stay still for a little while longer. I’m going to get some help.”

  “It’s so cold. I want my mommy.”

  “I know honey. Hang tight.”

  Sonia checked her cell phone signal. Of course, no bars this far inside the mine. She backed out of Nora’s hearing and whispered to the ghosts she knew must be all around. “I am going to go out and bring someone back.” Fifteen voices, maybe more, all began to speak at the same time.

  “Quiet!” A male ghost voice yelled with authority, “She can’t hear any of you if you all talk at the same time.”

  “Thank you, yes.” Sonia nodded. “I need one voice at a time.”

  “We do not think the debris will hold,” the authoritative voice continued, “The child is going into shock. Waiting is a bad idea.”

  “I can’t get her out from under all that alone, can I? None of you can move things in the physical world, right?”

  “Hal, you designed some of the structures that hold up these tunnels. You help her get the child out. The rest of you—stay quiet.” Lots of quiet ghostly grumbling, followed by a moment of silence.

  “I’m Hal,” a different voice, a bit more gentle, came from just beside her, “what is your name?”

  “Hello, Hal.” She turned toward the voice. “I’m Sonia. Can you see how I can remove all this without crushing both of us?”

  “The worst of it is the beam at the bottom crushing her legs. I will talk you through each piece to move.”

  “Nora,” Sonia raised her voice as she moved closer, “I’m going to move some of the things above you that are holding you down. Stay very still and we’ll get you out.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded so small.

  Sonia stood in front of the blockage and lightly touched each piece of wood and chunk of rock as Hal guided her to the first piece to move. Once she had the right one, she didn’t give herself time to think—she grasped it and lifted.

  The wood came free easily. It must have been just resting on the top of the pile—but Sonia could not see that from where she stood. One by one, Hal helped her figure out the next piece to shift. A few times she dug out great clots of dirt. Sonia kept up a steady flow of reassurance for Nora, asking her questions about her family and her favorite things.

  By the time Sonia got down to the last big wood beam that held down Nora’s legs, they could see each other. The little girl wore shorts and what looked like a red and white striped shirt, all covered in a layer of gray-brown dust.

  “You need to stay still for this last part, okay Nora? I know you want to wiggle and get up, but I want to make sure I get you completely free. Right?”

  “Yes, Sonia. I understand.”

  Sonia wished for many things in that moment. A cold drink of water. The benefit of a night of sleep and a full breakfast. She wished that Hal and his whole crew of kind ghost miners could help her lift this beast of a beam.

  “Sonia, you are going to need a lever. You can’t lift that yourself.” Hal spoke up. He described how to use a stack of nearby bricks and a sturdy board to help her lift the beam.

  It took forever to wedge the board under the beam at the right angle, but finally Sonia could feel the beam begin to shift as she pushed on her side of the lever.

  “Nora, as soon as you feel like you can I need you to pull your legs out from under the wood.”

  “Okay.” Nora’s big brown eyes watched Sonia’s face as she nodded solemnly.

  “I am going to count to three and then push on this to lift the wood. One. Two. Three.” She used her full body weight and all her strength to push down. The lever did its job, shifting the beam up the few inches necessary to free Nora’s leg. “Now! Pull your legs out!”

  It took much longer than Sonia had hoped for Nora to shift herself backward on the floor and free her legs, but she did it.

  “I’m out.”

  The ghost voices broke out into cheers all around her. Sonia wanted to thank them all, but talking to them now while Nora listened would just confuse the little girl.

  “Stay still, I’m coming over.” Sonia lowered the beam back down, now all the way to the floor, and released the lever completely. She climbed carefully through the gap in the debris she had made with Hal’s help and knelt at Nora’s side, checking her for visible injuries. “Can you feel your feet? Can you move your fingers and toes?”

  “I think so.” She wiggled her fingers in Sonia’s face obediently. “Can we all go now?”

  “Yes, absolutely. Is it okay if I carry you?”

  “Yes, but we can’t leave yet.”

  “What? Why?”

  “The momma cat and her kittens are still back there.” Out of the murk behind Nora, a tiny orange kitten marched into the light cast by Sonia’s phone. “We have to take them with us. I followed the momma cat from the campground all the way here with my flashlight last night.” Nora waved her flashlight proudly.

  This must be the ‘wild cat’. Sonia had forgotten that part of the garbled story.

  The kitten looked like it had just woken from a nice nap. It stretched, yawned, and climbed into Nora’s lap. Deeper in the gloom, Sonia’s phone light illuminated two sets of eyes. She moved slowly to not spook them until she was crouched just beside the cats’ makeshift nest. The momma watched warily as Sonia scooped up a second kitten. This one was white with orange markings, just like its mother.

  Sonia turned back to Nora.

  “You carry the kittens and I’ll carry you. I bet the momma cat will follow her kittens.”

  They made a strange little parade as they picked their way back to the mine’s entrance. Nora was able to set the kittens down outside, then climb out - followed by Sonia and the momma cat.

  Sonia called 911 with her one bar of signal. She and Nora sat in the shade by the trees with the momma cat, watching the kittens play as they waited for help to come and Sonia mentally rearranged her guest room to accommodate the three new guests she planned to bring home.

  K is for Kittens

  Samantha Kymmell-Harvey

  May 12, 1856

  My Dearest Eleanor,

  How thrilled I was to receive your letter, sister! Summer is nearing and I am looking forward to our yearly summer retreat to Myrtlewood. And thanks to Burwell’s recent business trip to Paris, Myrtlewood will resemble a Parisian parlor when you arrive.

  Sister, I have never seen so many boxes and crates arrive! Burwell pried open each crate with such gusto to show me. “You shall have Paris here at home,” he said. He bought settees, draperies, wallpaper, and side tables, all in the new fashionable Parisian style dyed in that striking shade of green we have seen in all the magazine prints. Some of these pieces are perfect for the summer parlor at Myrtlewood, so I am shipping them there.

  But sister, the gorgeous furniture is not where Burwell’s generosity ended.

  Do you remember that delicate frock of the most stunning green on the cover of this month’s Le
Moniteur de la Mode? Well, Burwell bought it for me and it fits me as if I had been there in person for the tailor to measure. It shall surely garner much attention at our next dinner party. All of the investors will be there and we are anxious to impress.

  Once this party is done, we shall be taking up residence at Myrtlewood for some well earned respite from city life.

  Please give your dear husband and my sweet nieces my best.

  All my love,

  Alice

  June 2, 1856

  My Dearest Eleanor,

  The dinner party was quite a success though the stress and excitement left me feeling light headed the next day. Burwell called Dr. Peterson, who had a perfectly reasonable assessment for my condition. I am with child! We are so happy. Though Burwell must stay in Archerville to finish some business, I will go on to Myrtlewood. Dr. Peterson believes some fresh air and relaxation will be the perfect restorative. Despite this happy news, I am still haunted by worry.

  Ellie, it has all been so strange. When Burwell returned home, we planned our gala. We spared no expense. The cook prepared luscious courses of oysters in aspic, whole roast pig, and asparagus gêlé. I wish you could have been here to see the strawberry tart he prepared. The glaze glistened in the dim gaslight of our dining room. I wore my new Parisian green dress, and sister, the compliments made me blush! I was indeed the envy of the other wives in attendance. We danced and drank the French burgundy Burwell shipped back. It was so hot in the house that we opened the windows to let in a breeze. I was worried to be so unladylike and did not wish to sully my new dress in such a way.

  I stepped out into the garden for a bit of respite. There was a dark-haired woman on the terrace who I did not recognize. She stood in the shadows just out of the candlelight, keeping her face hidden. Her frock was scarlet, similar to the deep red in last year’s winter edition of Le Moniteur de la Mode. I did not believe for one moment that one of our investors would allow his wife to appear in out of season clothing at an event such as this. Poor thing!