drabblegrrl

The ghost girl whispered, her voice echoing eerily in the tiny room.  “Once you put it on, you can never take it off.”

I shuddered, my heart pounding, threatening to burst. Though the room was ice cold, I was hot. “Won’t it cut into me when I grow up?”

She shook her head, her ethereal curls bouncing. “No. It grows to fit you, always.”

“Are you sure,” I said, the fear and hesitation choking me, making the words hard to get out, “that this is the only way?”

The little ghost looked sad, and slowly nodded.

Fear welled up in me, spilling out my eyes as tears. “And… my sisters can’t…?” Again, she shook her head.

I took a deep breath, the air freezing my throat. I took it from her, wondering how her transparent hands could hold a solid object. It was so small, so cold in my hand. I looked at her again, and she smoothed the front of her dress. I’d never seen a dress like that, and I briefly wondered how long she’d been dead, and how she died, but fear overwhelmed my curiosity and I didn’t ask. “Will it hurt?”

“I don’t think so. Not… not you, anyway.”

That gave me pause, and I looked at her eyes. I wondered what color they’d been in life. “Will it hurt you?”

She nodded. “But not for long. And it’s okay. I understand and I’m ready.”

I took another deep breath and nodded. I slid the ring on my right middle finger; it adjusted and settled into a perfect fit.

The little ghost girl gasped, let out a cry of despair, and vanished.

Screams echo off the walls.  Dark, viscous liquid drips from the ceiling onto my floor no longer spotless.   Cold, the air, my breath fogging with each exhale.  Tears track down my cheeks, silent water ignored.

I sit in the middle, in a chair made of clay. I wait. The cat calls out, I hear her even among the shrill loud whimpers of death all around. After a moment, she appears, ghostlike, white, light noiseless steps, moving gingerly among the carnage as though it was not there. Once, twice, she rubs against my leg and then returns to the gloom out of sight.

I sigh, the breath of life leaving me. I drink my tea.

“Why you still looking out the window?” he asked, laying his unwelcome hand on her shoulder.

Hate flowed up through her. She corked it, took deep breaths, waited for it to settle back down before responding. “The ocean soothes me.” She waited longer, til he removed his hand, then stood. Wrapping her scarf around her neck, she pulled on her jacket. “Which is more than you’ve ever done,” she muttered, too soft for him to hear. Louder, she said, “I’m going.”

“It’s that time.”

“Yes.” She zipped her jacket slowly, marveling at the mundane action that prefaced such a journey. She turned to face him for the last time, saw the clouds reflected in his eyes. She wished, for a fleeting moment, that it would work.

She got off the train adjusting her scarf, hoisting her backpack. Another traveler bumped into her in his haste, knocking her pack back to the ground. Sighing, she readjusted it, wondering for the zillionth time why she was still doing this.

This time, the thought gave her pause. Who would care, she mused, if I gave it up now? She snorted. Care indeed; who would even notice?

She realized she’d stopped walking. She was standing in the now empty station, silence wrapping around her like mist. A light flickered, humming slightly to itself. She cocked an eyebrow, sliding the burdensome pack off her tired shoulder. The thump echoed long after it hit the ground. She stood more, longer, letting time tick past.

An eternity passed. She was vaguely aware of travelers passing her at regular intervals, but paid them no mind and they returned the favor. She stood, silent, trapped in indecision, caught between wanting out and staying in.

After a time, once again in empty silence, a tiny sound caught her ear. Broke her reverie, tickled her attention. She turned, and with the motion of years of habit, slid the pack onto her shoulder and walked toward the sound.

The child looked up at her, big blue eyes full of tears. “I care,” he whispered. “Don’t quit; I need you.” He reached up a grubby hand. She nodded, took his hand, and the pair walked together toward the night.