Rose looked at Lynn and made a face. They both grinned at each other, unsure whether to laugh out loud for fear of upsetting the reader.
“Tell a lie then, Mary, you’re good at that,” urged Rose.
“I am, and I will, if you’re too… chicken to do it.” She coughed to clear her throat. A serious voice came forth:
“If thou shall lie tonight, a tongue will tie in spite,
Let a lie live, don’t expect a vowel to give,
Lose one, lose two, three, and four; don’t wish to tell anymore,
A liar shall descend into her deceitful hole, therefore a mistrusting soul,
Should Lynn Parks want to try, remember this rhyme and never lie.”
“Hey! Not me – don’t put it on me,” cried Lynn, jumping to her feet and waving her hands with frenzy.
“Tell a lie,” prompted Mary. Her head moved closer with an expression of intrigue.
Lynn looked at Rose, who offered a sideways smile and said, “Just prove her wrong.”
Unenthused, Lynn covered her head in her arms and said, “I don’t want to.”
Mary sighed. “Just say I can fly!” She placed the book down and stood on the log. With reaching hands, she began flapping her arms. “I can fly high, like the birdies of the sky!” she bellowed, then stopped flapping. “Say that.”
Rose and Lynn burst into laughter, though Lynn’s resonated with nerves. Nonetheless, she slowly placed the torch under her chin and said, ”I can fly high, like birdies in the sky.”
“Anything?” asked Mary. “Say something.”
Lynn looked at Rose and back to Mary. “Something –” she uttered, followed by a relieved sigh. “I don’t think the spell worked. My speech is fine. My speech is absolutely fine!” she added, shedding her anxiety.
Mary looked puzzled and picked up the book. “Maybe I read it wrong or something. Let’s try another. Rose, you read one.”
“What? Must I?”
“Yes, pick one.”
Rose took hold of the book with reluctance. She held the torch in one hand and turned the pages with the other. The book looked worn and ancient; some pages were stained, possibly by tea or coffee. She continued to flip, glancing at the titles, paying little attention, until one struck her. It read: Spirit Awaken. She paused, glancing at the page number: three-hundred and four. Her temptation to read was deflated by her company. Instead, she continued to search, discovering a spell simply titled Toads. Rose beamed with delight; she knew how much Mary hated anything slimy. Especially green and slimy.
* * *
For Rose, time in the forest had crawled. The three had been sitting in the Bowl for well over an hour, and not one spell had astounded or vaguely enlightened. Their toes had become slightly numb. Fingers and noses also felt the pinch of the late autumn temperature.
Mary bounced up and leapt out of the Bowl, dragging Lynn with her. “Hide and seek! Find us if you can!” She dashed behind trees. “Count to fifty, Rose!” she shouted from a distance.
Lynn looked lost for a moment, and then began to follow in Mary’s steps. “Wait for meee!”
Rose relished the prospect of energising her lukewarm blood. She placed the book down and began to count to fifty from zero.
Approximately forty-seven seconds later:
“. . . forty-eight, forty-nine… fifty!” She stepped out of the Bowl, torch in hand. “Ready or not! Here I come!”
The light shone amongst the trees and bushes as she searched with two sharp eyes and sensitive ears. She followed the trodden path, wandered passed the tree swing, crossed the shallow stream and arrived at the lake to consider hiding places.
Small rafts bobbed and scraped against the lake edge. Being all alone by the water caused Rose to turn in circles, listening to any sounds that threatened her comfort zone, which had already been severely breached.
Not wanting to remain, she began to head back to the Bowl, thinking they wouldn’t have hidden at the old mill, or beyond the lake. And surely not at the farmhouse – or would they?
Lonely as ever, Rose sat in the Bowl. With folded arms, she hummed with thoughts of leaving. If the seeker gives up, the game is over, isn’t it? “You can come out now!” she shouted with chilled hands cupped around her mouth. “I’ve given up! You win!”
Not a whisper.
“I’ve had enough! I’m going home!”
Nothing.
With a whine and an irritated huff, Rose reached for the book and flipped through the pages. She then remembered that spell. The title alone caused her throat to pinch. “Spirit Awaken,” she uttered. The text covered a whole page, and word for word she read under her misty breath. The final descriptive paragraph was soon finished. She paused for a deep breath, and began the spell:
“Spirits, open your eyes, for your time has come to rise,
Beyond Heaven, beyond Earth, a spirit shall rebirth,
A voice of tales will speak through ghostly veils,
The closet spirit shall be blessed, for she is now your guest,
Two worlds to forever unite, and time for the spirit one to awaken, roam and fright.”
Rose glanced to her left, right, then closed the book, cringing. She cupped her hands to call out one last time, when:
“Boooo!”
The frightening voice hurtled from behind. Something pointy jabbed into Rose’s back. Reality became slow-motion as she couldn’t turn around fast enough. She half stood, twisted in body, and glanced at the figure behind.
“Ha-ha! Made you jump!” cried Mary, barely able to speak amid her laughter. “You were so scared!” she continued, giggling without control.
Rose didn’t move, but frowned and began to breathe again. “Don’t ever do that!” she yelled, repositioning herself to appear a little less terrified.
“Sorry, it was her idea,” said Lynn.
With the torch beneath her chin, Mary spoke in her spooky voice. “OooOooo… don’t be frightened, girlies,” she said, before shining the light into Rose’s eyes, turning it on and off repeatedly.
“I’m going home,” said Rose, squinting into the flashing light.
“Don’t be boring,” said Mary, dancing the light over Rose as she stepped out of the Bowl. “Okay…” she added, in a tone that sounded almost apologetic, “my turn to seek. Go on, go hide. I’ll count to fifty.”
Rose walked past them without making eye contact.
“Don’t go,” said Lynn, “we can play something else. Whatever you want, eh, Mary?”
“Sure…” she said.
Rose stepped towards home, then turned to face them. “No, it’s not that, I’m just tired. You do whatever you like.”
“Bye then,” said Mary.
“We’ll walk home with you,” said Lynn.
“No, no. I’ll see you both at school, okay?”
Lynn nodded.
She turned and headed home, and could hear faint whispers from behind. Unable to make out what was being said, she realised she no longer cared.
* * *
Out of sight from prying eyes, Rose had walked for three minutes when she was interrupted by a sound, no, a murmur, she thought. “What now? Stop trying to scare me. I’m not playing anymore!”
No response.
Rose put the sound down to fatigue, and continued to walk. She soon stopped. Another murmur, no, she gasped, a voice; faint, but most certainly a voice. She not only looked back, but every which way she could, lighting the forest with her torch.
Rose ran, dashing the beam of light in front, but her right foot careered ahead. She fell to the ground with a thump. The torch flew from her hand, tumbling down the hillside and resting against a thorny bush by the stream. Her hands sank into the gooey mud as she pushed herself up, grimacing with regret; she realised a wash was needed before sunrise.
For Rose’s return journey the trees had separated the beams of silver light. However, while scraping the dirt off her hands, she stood adorned by moonlight. The cold air blustered through her
hair and clothes, while the leaves emitted familiar sounds.
Rose glanced behind to witness the sight of a ghostly hand. Her lips parted, eyes widened. The appearance of the hand was small, childlike, Rose’s age perhaps. Barely able to breathe, move or even blink, she felt spellbound, standing like a manikin. The voice spoke again, clearly a young girl’s. Rose’s heart began to pump so loudly and rapidly that her eardrums rattled with every beat.
“Just go home,” said the voice. “Back to beddy-byes.”
Rose turned her head so slowly, she was barely moving. Her eyes were fixed on the faint, translucent hand that swayed back and forth. She witnessed an elbow and patterned clothing, much like her uniform. Hair too, illuminated by moonlight, wisped in the breeze.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she uttered.
“Huh…”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no…” she continued, struggling to control her breathing as she moved a millimetre per second.
“Huh… what?” said the voice, now clearer than ever.
“Who – who’s there? Who are you? Please, don’t frighten me,” she whispered, emitting hasty breaths.
“You – you can hear me?” said the voice, now sounding surprised and amazed.
“Ye–yes…” she said, in her smallest tone. “Yes, I can hear you. Please don’t hurt me, please.”
“You can hear me?” the voice repeated with punch. “It can’t be. Am I dreaming? No, it’s too real. You can hear me, but can you see me?” Arms flailed at Rose’s side and towards her bewildered face.
“Yes, I see you. But what are you?”
The voice let out an almighty yelp. “Yeeaaah! Wooo-hooo! You can hear me! See me! Woooooo-hooooooo!”
Rose finally found she could move. With urgency, she began to look behind, around and underneath. Wherever she stepped the ghost moved too, as if attached to her back. Rose’s fear subsided, and curiosity took over. “Who are you? Why are you behind me?” she asked, turning left, right, never quite able to clearly view the ghostly speaker. The figure seemed to be looking in the opposite direction, fading from the waist down.
“You have no idea, Rose!” said the voice, in raptures.
She knows my name?
“I’m –” The voice caught her breath. “I’m your sister.”
The revelation caused Rose’s jaw to sink. She stood static, staring, as what seemed like a thousand thoughts rattled through her brain. And yet, oddly, it all made perfect sense. Rose had once had a sister. Not only that, but a twin; not only a twin, a conjoined twin. Born as one, they had been attached at the lower back.
“Lily, that really you?” whispered Rose, to her left shoulder.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Rose knew her name. Her father had told her a few years ago how her sister died before separation, and how their mother had passed away on their birthday.
Realising how this had come to be, Rose took back all she had ever said about magic and hocus-pocus. The spell had worked.
She narrowed down her thoughts, choosing carefully what to ask her sibling amongst the labyrinth of questions. “You have just appeared, right?” she asked, her voice still shaken, then glanced over her shoulder. “I mean, this is the first time here, with me?”
“What? No!” Lily’s voice had changed from exhilarated to hard edged and bitter. “I’ve been here all along. Nobody cares for me. Nobody knows me. I’m not even fully formed. I’ve never once seen my legs, or feet.” Her frustrated tone deepened. “Your first day at school, I was right behind you, making no friends. And when you visited the seaside, building sandcastles and eating ice-cream, I couldn’t join in. And… the first time you and Dad went to the pictures, I watched the projector! And –” Her voice came down as quickly as it had risen, “– like tonight, I couldn’t see the fireworks, not really, not like everybody else.”
Rose was speechless. She tried to say something, but nothing formed to ease her sister’s sorrow. They shared the silence together; a much needed moment of reflection – for them both.
Out of the moonlight and under the canopy of thick branching trees, Lily began to fade; soon, she vanished. “Lily … Lily! You there?” cried Rose, worried she was gone, and gone for good. “Lily … Speak to me!” Only the breeze and fluttering of leaves could be heard.
Rose turned around and headed back to where she had last stood. As she moved closer she heard a faint voice say, “… into the moonlight.” Then, “Move back into the moonlight,” repeated Lily, vivid as before. “There, see, moonlight. Primitive spirits can only be seen and heard in moonlight, got it?”
Rose felt a sense of relief swathe her mind and body. “How do you know this?”
Lily sighed. “Rose, I’ve been like this for nearly ten years, I should know a thing or two. And anyway, I heard others talking about it. William-what’s-his name, he was twenty-two, and a primitive. His mother came to Earth from the afterlife. She transformed him into a true spirit, and I watched him leave this world.”
“To where?”
“To Kiian…” she said, longingly, as if it were a place of paradise, a utopia for all spirits.
“Is that –” Rose paused, almost afraid to say the rest, “– Heaven?”
Lily burst out laughing; a laugh that was almost identical to Rose’s. “No,” she said, bluntly. “It doesn’t exist – it’s not Heaven, or Hell, it’s… Kiian.”
“Well, what is it then?”
“Let’s go!” she said in a fit of excitement. “We’ll find Mum!”
“Mum?” said Rose, startled.
“Yes, I’ve seen her, once, I think.”
“When? Where?”
“Mum's visited every year. The first time I didn't know who she was, but then I saw a picture of her in the house. At times I thought she was looking at me.” Lily’s voice lowered. “Then I realised she was looking at you. Nobody has ever looked at me.”
“Really?” said Rose.
Lily snapped from her sadness. “I think she can help us. I think she can separate us. And I can finally be free.”
“We can really go and see Mum? I can’t believe this, I mean how? I’m not a spirit,” she said.
“No… not yet.”
“But –”
“Rose, you’re going to have to kill yourself.”
“What? Noooo. I can’t.”
Lily narrowed her eyes and searched the forest. “Maybe … I guess there’s only one way to find out. Say La'atzu three times.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s what spirits say to be granted the portal to Kiian. Hurry, I want to see if it works.”
Rose gulped and took in a deep breath. “La'atzu. La'atzu.” She paused and glanced around her surroundings.
“Go on,” urged Lily.
She closed her eyes tight and grimaced. “La'atzu…” A moment of silent anticipation followed while Lily searched for a sign. Rose peeked through her right eye. “Anything?”
“There, look, that tree,” said Lily, pointing to a large oak.
Rose snapped open her left eye. “I don’t see anything, except – a tree.”
“Trust me, Rose, walk into that tree.”
“What?”
“There, down there,” she repeated, pointing at the oak, which for Lily at least, was illuminated by an inner glow. Cracks of bright light shone through the bark, as if it were lit from inside.
“But?”
“Do it! That’s what everyone else does. I once saw an old chap walk into a post box. Go on, try it!”
Rose took a few paces towards the giant oak. Bathed in moonlight, its great thick roots pierced through the ground and intertwined, as if marking its territory. Confused and anxious, she made her final step to the tree, observing the trunk. She extinguished mere thoughts of reality, and continued to stare at the bark. “Okay, so I just walk into it. And then what?”
“Say ‘Kiian’. And I suppose … I don’t know. I’ve never done it before, have I.”
Rose took in her deepest breath and exhaled while gazing at the oak, which looked more solid than ever. “So it’s ‘Kiian’ when I step forward?”
“Yes. And mean it when you say it.”
“Okay…” she said, with eyes closed and Kiian repeating over and over in her mind. “Kiian.”
Her right foot rose towards the knobbly bark. She planted her welly to the ground. There was zero contact. With eyes wide open and frantic, she observed her foot being devoured by the trunk.
“What are you waiting for?”
“My foot,” she said, in a squeaky voice. “It’s… inside the tree.”
“Go further, or your foot might be chopped off!”
The words “chopped” and “off” caused Rose to hop forward. She was then surrounded by pure black, inside the tree, or Kiian?
“Now what?” whispered Rose.
“Wait,” said Lily.
“For what? I really don’t –”
“Quiet.”
“What is it?”
“I see something, look.” She pointed to a crack of horizontal light a short distance away.
Rose turned sideways, giving them both a clear view. They witnessed a fluttering line of bright light move along the ground from left to right. It paused after a metre or so, and began to rise, halting at Rose’s height. The light moved right to left and back down, reaching the starting point. The kind of light that shines from the cracks of a door, observed from within a darkened room.
“Okay, go closer,” said Lily. “Through there… that’s Kiian.”
Rose took another deep breath before embarking into the unknown. She placed her hand within the centre of the light; the surface was hard, smooth and warm to her fingertips. With a push, the right-hand side opened, illuminating the twins. Rose didn’t hesitate. She pushed and walked straight into the warm, hazy wall of light.
CHAPTER THREE
Welcome to Kiian
The twins were blinded by the intensity of light. Slowly and surely, shapes began to emerge: a corner of sandstone wall, a tiled floor, steps and figures in the distance moving at pace. Focus soon returned, along with the sounds of bustling people, conversing with a buzz of excitement and apprehension.
Twin Spirit Page 2