G is for Ghosts

by Rhonda Parrish

  Oh diary, it was so terrible! I screamed. And when I did, the face vanished.

  Then Auntie Alice screamed too. “Oh child, you gave me quite a fright!”

  “I saw her,” I said. “The woman in red was at the window just now. And Auntie Alice,” I ran to my aunt, arms wide open, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Her face is yours.”

  August 16, 1856

  My Beloved William,

  My hope is that by the time you receive this, we will already be on our way home to you. I wish never to return to Myrtlewood.

  My sister is dead.

  Oh, it was horrible, William. I shall never be able to erase the images of last night from my mind. I keep glancing over my shoulders at the slightest creak of the floorboards or rattle of the window panes.

  Burwell has just arrived with Dr. Peterson, so I am leaving now.

  Your love,

  Eleanor

  October 1, 1856

  I hate Papa.

  He forced the men from St. Francis’ hospital to take Mama away from us. She kicked and screamed. Then he chopped all of Auntie Alice’s beautiful Parisian furniture to splinters! Uncle Burwell gifted it to us, he said he knew she’d want us to have it! Then my Papa set the wooden scraps ablaze in the garden. The flames glowed the same shade of sickly green as the wallpaper at Myrtlewood. Aggie and I cried, begged him not to destroy Auntie Alice’s favorite settee.

  “The doctor says it’s poisonous,” Papa said. “Arsenic. He said he’s seen cases like this in Europe. The women languish slowly until they die. All indulged in green wallpaper, frocks, toys, wallpaper.” The wooden pieces crackled, sending green sparks into the air like fourth of July. “We must pray for your Mama.”

  But diary, I must speak the truth about how my Auntie died. It was because of her. Because my trap did not work. Aggie has not yet forgiven me.

  That evening in August was the kind of night Mama would let me and Aggie run around in our cotton shifts because the air was so hot and thick. But we had to dress up in our best party frocks for Auntie Alice’s fancy dinner. We sat on the green silk chairs around the dining room table. In the candlelight, sweat glistened on Auntie Alice’s forehead. Her green dress was a shade darker at her arm pits. Mama fanned herself. Aggie tugged at the collar of her blue dress.

  “Agnes Mary, that is not how we behave at the dinner table,” said Mama.

  Then there was a knock at the front door. I looked to Mama who looked to Auntie Alice.

  “Shall I go see who is calling?” Miss Lauretta said.

  Auntie Alice clasped a hand to her chest. “Burwell has arrived!”

  “Surely Burwell has keys,” said Mama.

  The knock sounded again.

  Aggie jumped from her chair. “I want to see who it is.”

  I could not stop her for she had set her mind to it. Her feet pounded down the hallway. We sat silently as the door knob clicked and the door creaked open.

  “Auntie Alice,” Aggie’s voice echoed from the foyer. “How did you get out here? You look like you don’t feel well.”

  Aggie appeared on the threshold of the dining room linked arm in arm with a pale, skeletal woman. Mama screamed as did Miss Lauretta. The woman’s long dark hair hung in clumps, her gray scalp exposed. She pointed at Auntie Alice with long, gray fingers, nails tinged greenish. Her face, thin but untouched by decay, was exactly the same face I saw in the window, that of my Auntie.

  The ghostly specter said not a word as she passed behind my chair. The dress she wore was not a true red but like a scarlet had seeped through an emerald green. A match to the shred I recovered in the garden. A perfect match to my auntie’s French dress.

  Aggie gasped at Mama, who was trying to push her back out into the hallway. “Go get Father Thomas, hurry!” Mama shouted at Miss Lauretta, who raced from the table. “Eliza, go outside with your sister. You have to protect her.”

  At first, I did not hear her words. It was as if the wet heat had clogged my ears. I was transfixed on this ghoulish twin of my auntie who now stood beside her. Auntie Alice grasped her chair as more red blotches erupted on her skin.

  “Go!” Mama grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me out of the room. Aggie clung to my waist, sobbing into my pink dress.

  But my eyes remained fixed on my Auntie Alice.

  “I have come for you,” said the woman in bloodied green. She opened her arms and enveloped my auntie.

  The air chilled and silenced. And Auntie Alice slumped to the floor, pulses of red seeping through the vibrant green.

  My mother shrieked and retreated into the corner. The spectral woman touched my auntie’s shoulder and her spectral twin emerged from her body. They linked arms. Aggie and I pressed ourselves against the wall as they passed by, not daring to breathe for fear death may claim us, too.

  Father Thomas arrived nearly an hour later with nothing to do other than pray with us for Aunt Alice’s reaped soul.

  That is my truth, dear diary.

  October 10, 1856

  My Dearest Alice,

  I see her everywhere. She is waiting for her chance to come inside. Her face peers in at me. It is like looking into a mirror, for her face is mine but withered and decayed. She taps on my window. She sends the ravens to caw at me in the night. I dream of you, in your brilliant green dress, and you speak of the latest fashions in Le Moniteur de la Mode. And I sip tea beside you. I miss you, my sweet sister. But take peace in knowing she has come for me.

  All my love,

  Your Ellie

  L is for Languish

  BD Wilson

  Amber dumped the box out over her new bed, even though she knew that wasn’t what her parents had meant by unpacking, and sifted through the scattered doll clothes.

  “I didn’t forget it,” she told Elie. The doll was lying on the pillows, her silky brown hair fanned out around her, her soft body visible as Amber had started changing her outfit before she’d taken the dress out of the box. “I didn’t.”

  There had been nothing left in their old apartment. She’d done a walk-through with her parents and her father had searched every corner, just in case. All the same, Elie’s purple dress, the one Amber thought must have been from when the doll belonged to her mother because of the beautiful hand-stitched J on the front, wasn’t here.

  Standing up with a sigh she crossed the hallway to her parent’s room. The bed was already put together and made, the breathing machine positioned beside it, now they had a room where it fit. It was powered on and the mask hung on the edge, but her mother wasn’t in the room. Amber stood there a moment, listening to the machine hum, and then bent down to look under the bed. There were no boxes there yet and nothing the in closet either.

  “Looking for something,” her father said from the doorway, making her jump.

  “I’m missing one of Elie’s dresses,” she said.

  “It’ll turn up, I’m sure. We’ve still got to unpack the living room.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We’ll find it. But right now I have to go back to the apartment to finish signing papers. Mom’s going to take you over to Nana’s.”

  “Can’t she watch me?”

  “She needs to rest,” he said, and while neither of them looked at the respirator, Amber could still hear it humming in wait behind them. “Grab a few things, just in case.”

  “Sorry,” Amber told Elie as she returned to her room. “You’ll have to wear something else.” She grabbed a striped shirt and jean-skirt overalls that fit well enough, though they’d been made for a different style of doll. Elie was too old to buy clothes made specifically for her anywhere. The only outfit she had that seemed made for her was the purple dress. And Amber had lost it.

  It was because they had to move. If they were still in their old apartment then the dress would be in her toy chest where it belonged. She wouldn’t have had to put everything she owned in to boxes. She’d still be able to have a sleep-ove
r with Priya on the weekend, because she was old enough to walk there herself now. They’d made plans for the summer, to trade off every week, but now Amber lived on the other side of the city and none of that was going to happen.

  After she had Elie dressed, Amber quickly ran a brush through her tangled blonde hair, more than a little jealous it wasn’t as easy to brush as the doll’s and then grabbed a few books and Elie. In the hall her mother was waiting. Her hair, naturally the same brown colour as Elie’s, was dyed blue this month, and even though she cut it too short to tie back, she had a bandana around her head to keep her eyes clear while they unpacked. Only, she wasn’t unpacking right now. Instead she was leaning against the wall, breathing in and out with the practiced pace she’d learned from the nurses. She pushed herself to stand straight and smiled as Amber joined her. “I’m fine, honey.”

  Fine, Amber had learned, could mean everything from just needing a second to needing to call the hospital, but right now it seemed she was well enough.

  “We’ll come get you soon,” her mother promised as she reached out and brushed the top of Amber’s head, smoothing down her hair. “And you’ll have a fun time at Nana’s.”

  “If it’s going to be so fun, why didn’t we move before?” Amber sulked as they left, her mother locking the door behind them even though they were just going down the hall. Not that she would have wanted to move earlier, either.

  “It’s complicated,” he mother answered, the way she always did when talking about Nana. Like fine, Amber was pretty sure complicated had more than one meaning.

  As much as she grumbled, she was looking forward to seeing Nana. Even though they lived in the same city, she’d rarely visited while growing up. By the time they reached the door at the end of the hall she had to try to keep from bouncing up and down as she waited, but gave in, jumping when the door opened.

  “Hi, Nana!”

  “Amber, my dear.” Nana pulled her into a hug, warm and strong, and then leaned back. “Let me get a look at you.” She ran her hand over Amber’s head, the way her mother had done, and then did the same for Elie, as though the doll were just another family member. “Come in, come in.” She led them into the living room of her little apartment.

  “Sorry for having to drop her off unexpectedly,” Amber’s mother said.

  “Nonsense, Jacqueline. That’s why you’re here, after all.”

  “Lynn,” her mother corrected, her mouth a firm line that fit the tone in her voice. “Dane will be back in a few hours, once everything’s sorted at the old place.”

  “I’m sure Amber and I can keep ourselves occupied.”

  Amber went right in and set Elie down on the piano bench, as though the doll were playing. A shiver ran through her, and she got up to see if the window could be closed, but it wasn’t even open.

  “Amber takes after you, Jacqueline,” Nana said. “Perhaps you’d like to have your piano now. It wouldn’t be as difficult to move it up the hall.”

  Their new apartment didn’t seem like it had room enough for the piano, even if it was bigger than the old apartment, but that wasn’t the strangest thing about the suggestion. “Mom doesn’t play the piano.”

  “She does,” Nana insisted. “It’s just a phase.”

  Amber’s mother took a breath and let it out, five seconds each way, Amber counted. “I’d better go lay down,” she said when she opened her eyes again. Her face seemed paler now.

  “Rest well, Jacqueline,” Nana said as she walked her to the door. “We’ll be just fine here.” When Nana came back, she stopped and looked at the pictures on her wall and seemed to talk to herself for a moment. “She’ll remember who she is.”

  Amber left Elie on the piano bench and she went over to look at the photographs. There were a lot of her mother, but the one Nana was looking at was of another girl. She had dark hair like Amber’s mother, but looked a lot like Nana, too. “Who’s that?”

  Nana startled, like she’d forgotten Amber was there. “That’s my sister,” she said, her voice soft and sad.

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Well, we haven’t gotten to know much about one another, but we’ll soon fix that.”

  Amber grinned as she remembered she’d get to visit Nana every day after school now. The one good thing that came out of the stupid move.

  “Now then, Amber, how would you like to learn how to make bread?”

  “Yes!” Amber said, and turned to get Elie only to find the doll sitting in Nana’s chair. She frowned for a moment, then picked her up and followed Nana into the kitchen. She must have forgotten where she’d put her, that’s all.

  Amber opened her eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. For a moment her heart pounded and her throat felt tight, and then she remembered.

  My room, she thought. I’m in my room. She was used to waking to the sight of neon lights flickering across the roof. At the old apartment she’d slept in the living room, and while there were blinds on the window, the glow from the sign outside had always made it through. Now everything was too dark. Amber dug under the covers until she found Elie, pulled the doll to her chest, and slipped out of bed.

  In her parent’s room, the respirator beeped, slow and steady, timed to the whisper of the pumps that kept her mother’s lungs moving properly. Her father was asleep on the other side of the bed, though she couldn’t hear his breathing over the machine and wondered if it fell into the same pace, listening to it as he slept. Amber took a breath herself, timing it to the respirator, in and out, trying to settle the unease of waking in a strange place.

  It’s okay, she thought and closed her eyes. This is home now. It didn’t feel like it, not yet, but it would. In the morning, she would have breakfast, and then her father would drive her to school, and even if she liked walking better that would be okay, because she’d get to spend time with him. Then, after school, she’d go to Nana’s, which was something different but would still be wonderful.

  Her next in-breath, timed to the machine, seemed shorter than the last, and just as she thought that, the beeping changed. It wasn’t the warning beep, not yet, but it wasn’t a good one. Amber opened her eyes.

  There was a girl standing beside her parent’s bed, bent over at the waist, face above her mother’s, though she had to be floating to manage it. Her dark hair hovered around her head lank and thick, soaked through, dripping down onto the covers. She wore a blue dress that floated on the air as though it were water and a ribbon from the back of her dress hung suspended, its end torn, with a tiny little thread connecting it to Amber’s mother.

  Her mother breathed out and Amber saw the breath, like they were outside in winter. The girl breathed it in, taking her it as her own. Her mother’s next in-breath, even with the machine’s help, was shorter still, prompting another bad beep. Amber clutched Elie to her chest, took a breath twice as deep, and let it out in a scream.

  The girl’s head snapped up, and she seemed strangely familiar, even though everything about her face was wrong, down to her pale shimmering skin, cracked with blue veins. Her eyes were dark pits and she snarled as she glared at Amber. The ribbon twisted, curving around, angling toward where Amber stood in the doorway, the one fragile thread trailing behind. For a second, just a second, the ghost girl’s gaze seemed to shift focus, become worried, and then the lights in the room came on and she vanished.

  “Amber are you okay?” Her father tossed the covers aside and knelt beside her. “Amber, honey?”

  “There was a ghost,” she said, her mind making the connection right before she spoke. “She was hurting mom.”

  Her father glanced over his shoulder, but of course the ghost girl was gone and the machine was now beeping steadily, her mother’s in-drawn breaths as deep as they should be. “There’s no one here, it’s okay.”

  “She was there.” Amber knew her voice was too loud, could feel tears on her face, and wanted to be brave, but all she could picture was her mother’s breath
being stolen by the girl with the wet hair as droplets fell to the cover.

  Her father wrapped Amber in a hug and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. Mom’s fine. It was just a nightmare.”

  Amber swallowed hard and looked at the bed. Her mother was still asleep, a deep sleep thanks to her medication, the machine was working properly, and there was no sign of the girl. She convinced her father to let her go over and check, only to find the blankets dry, not a trace of the droplets left.

  “See?” her father said. “Just a dream.”

  Amber nodded, hugged Elie once tight, and then slipped the doll under the covers with her mother. “Just in case,” she said, and her father smiled.

  “Good call. Elie will protect her. Now let’s get you back to bed.”

  It wasn’t until she was tucked back under the covers and distracting herself with thoughts of the next day that Amber realized why the ghost girl seemed familiar: the photographs. In them her eyes were bright and she was smiling instead of snarling, but Nana’s sister was the ghost girl who’d stolen her mother’s breath.

  Amber sat at a table in Nana’s kitchen, pretending to do her homework. Instead, she was thinking about her mother, sleeping again, with Elie keeping watch. She’d stopped in after school, though she was supposed to have gone right over to Nana’s. She couldn’t help it. Not when she got home and imagined her great-aunt, still a child, bent over her mother and taking her last breath.

  Aunt Jacqueline, who’d died before Amber’s mother was even born. Jacqueline, which was the name Nana insisted on calling her mother, no matter how many times she was told her name was now Lynn.