NaNoWriMo Chapter 3: BFFS

BFFs

Mel spends the first few days reading the news articles her mother gave her.  Full of country fairs, new treaties with what Mel could only assume was a town close by, and a staggering number of dead and missing townies and tourists.  Through the grisly and mundane she finds a photo of a woman with two small and serious girls holding her skirts with a shell of her house behind.

The house was in a sauntering war with itself,  growing or decaying. The article was about the a widow's bravery and struggle raising twins and finishing the house her husband began before he disappeared into the forest and was presumed dead. Much was made of the strange woman who had married the town's favorite son. A young man of glowing promise and wit. A man who had made much of himself in ways that were not elaborated on but the general idea was a rags to riches tale. One moment a handsome village boy  wealthy enough to leave, return with a family, and a promise to rebuild the manor house. The woman was never accused of doing anything to her husband but the word stranger and foreigner were mentioned five times in one page.

Mel never enjoyed hearsay. Too much was lost from lips to ear. The source was always the best way to find the truth in the sensational. The forest or the ghosts would know what was not written.

 The ghosts answered first.

It started out simple.  Small things, finger nail scratches and light knocks on the door. Almost a hello. Her shoes would appear on the other side of her room and then later would venture to the ice box and once in a fit of what Mel could only call imagination were left hanging by their laces outside her bedroom window on an oak branch. Mel was biding her time. The new moon was coming and she had a few questions.

Ghosts and stray cats have much in common. Move fast and they startle into the shadows. They decide on first contact. Quick odd overtures in their own way a language. If you pass their tests they might just sit on your lap, allow a scratch behind the ears, and tell you of the mysteries of life, death, and everything in-between.

She waits past midnight. The sky black but for a riot of stars. The circle made of salt cornered with five different stones and five candles. Mel holds the sixth with hematite swirling silver in her palm. She may be many things but a fool she is not. At the very least her mistakes would not be anything so novice that her mother could point to it as the reason the house was on fire or a poltergeist is now a roommate.

The candles flick and the leaves tornadoe in a circle around her. Howls stretched from the sides of the circle.

“Can we stop with the dramatics?” The words out of Mel's mouth before she realizes they were her mother’s. “I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t know what you are. I just want to know who.” The wind sighs. “I could do research but there’s no WiFi here and I was told the library is a really long walk. I just have a few questions.”

“Can I come in?” The words were in Mel's ear and no where else. Mel holds the hematite hard. Her foot knocks the salt back. The ghost girl’s hair is half up half down and her sleeves reached the outer edges of the circle. She looked angry in a way that reminded Mel much of herself.

“You don’t need my permission you’re a ghost not a vampire.”

“More’s the pity. I would have made a great vampire. What question did you have?”

“We could start with names. I’m Mel.”

“I know. I’ve been watching.”

“Creepy.”

“Bored.”

“A polite person might give their name.”

“A polite person might.” Mel turns to leave. “Wait. I’m Catherine but my family called me Kitty.”

“I have a cousin named Kitty.”

“You have many relations named Kitty.”

“Like the like the cat or like the Bennett’s?”

“Eleanore asked me that. I thought you were her at first. You look just like her before she left.”

“No I don’t” Mel kicks at the truth with the toe of her boot.

“Did you like the trick with your shoes?”

“Sort of basic haunting 101 stuff.”

“I’m sure you will do better when you’re dead.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a challenge or a threat.”

“You brought hematite you must be scared.”

“Of course I brought hematite. Wouldn’t you?”

“My mother never would have let me contact ghosts without it. They couldn’t be that different, your mother and mine.”

“Does that mean we’re not so different?”

“You are alive.”

“Sorry.” Mel has no idea why she was sorry but all of the sudden she really is. Her pulse embarrasses her. “I did want to talk.”

“Whatever you say. You have questions?”

“Who was the widow with the kids?”

“You will have to be more specific there have been a few widows and just as many children.”

“The one that rebuilt the house.”

“That was my mother.”

“Is your sister here?”

“No.” Kitty’s edges start to blur. She crouches to the ground shifting the salt. “My turn. Why are you here?”

“I got kicked out of school.”

“What for?” Her edges sharpen again

“I alived unalived frogs in class.”

The leaves rustle in  a laugh. “Do you know where the dollhouse is?”

“The dollhouse?”

“Yes, it use to be in my room. The room you know have taken over. It is not there anymore. What did you do with it?”

“I haven’t seen a doll house. Aren’t you a little old for dolls?”

“It was never for dolls and it is very important to the house. If you did not move it who did?”

“We just got here and it has been a long few days full of angry ravens, weird old ladies, and ghost pranks.”

“Those were not pranks and you should watch how you speak of Lady Violet. If you find that you have a bit of time with all of you loafing about you may want to go and find the doll’s house.”

“If I promise to look for it will you tell me why.”

The circle grows warm and empty the salt back in line with the stones. “I might. You can stay. You might not want too but I give you leave. You may live here. You may visit the town. You may even go deep into the woods. You have all of our permission to wander and to ask questions. If anyone gives you trouble which they should not show them your birthmark on your wrist.”

  Mel sits down. The candles burn around her. She closes her eyes drifting her hand over the willow leaves accidentally animating a dead bumble bee that starts to make slow confused circles around Mel’s aching fingers. She is tired. Hollowed out marrow of her bones tired. So tired she could only start to the form her next questions for Kitty ,when she saw her next. Where was her sister if she wasn’t part of the “who” that could grant power over town and forest.