Then The Stars Fell From The Sky

In the horizon, Eret could see, the wasteland was burning under the hot, orange sun. The air rippled from the heat like waves of the ocean he had never seen. His throat felt dry, the rib bones were visible under the sunburned skin. Food was scarce and everything he had found, he had offered to the Gods to please them. He believed that the suffering of the body would lead him closer to other worlds. He wanted to learn how to move between time and space like his father, and his father before him, but Eret had a wild mind, untamed, that could not be silenced. He was unable to concentrate and lose control. His head was filled with so many voices, he was not sure which one was his own anymore. His father had tried to cure him from that disease of the mind but he had been unsuccessful. That was why Eret left his family and went to live in isolation.

It was a long way to the sacred grove. Eret made the journey barefoot. He sat on the shore of the big, blue lake and stared at the stone wall that had paintings on it. He had made those paintings: reindeer and bears, wolves and foxes, human in between, part of the nature not detached from it. The red paint depicted a world divided in three layers: on top were the world of Gods, in between the human world and under it the underworld where the dead and the dark spirits roamed. Eret wanted to move between these worlds and learn their secrets. He wanted to see the past and the future, to understand what it all meant but he was stuck in his human world. He was stuck in his body because of his underdeveloped mind. He was painfully aware that there was something wrong inside of him, something he was not able to explain.

He reached his hands into the warm water and washed his face. The picture of the burning wasteland came back to him. What does it mean? It was 1^st of August and the nature was soon to turn into autumn, soon it was time for harvest, Eret thought. He should go back to his family to help them get ready for winter. A lonely crow cawed on the branch of the downy birch. The bird was watching Eret and their eyes met. Eret tried to clear his mind in order to listen to what the bird was saying but again these many voices started to whisper lies in his ears.

“The stars will fall from the sky...” One voice said.

“The sun and moon will burn out...” Another whispered.

“And the earth will be no more...” Came the third.

“Stop that”, Eret said out loud and shook his head. The voices were describing the end of the world, he knew. That was the only thing they were telling him. And he could not hear anything else.

“Please, stop”, he repeated.

Suddenly, the crow took flight, its wings flapping and feathers fluttering. It flew right towards Eret. He raised his hands to cover his face but the bird started pecking on his skin.

“No!” Eret yelled and leaned backwards. He lost his balance and fell into the lake. But the lake had no bottom and he sank deeper and deeper and the blue water turned green and then gray. Come with me, he heard the crow cawing inside his head. Let go, don’t fight.

He tried to relax and felt how the stream pulled him deeper, carrying him away. Everything turned black and then he saw the lake from above. He saw his own body lying on the shore under him lifeless, and he panicked. The voices started to speak all at the same time and he felt horrified.

No, no, no! He tried to yell but no voice came out of his mouth. He tried to move but could not feel his body. Let go, the crow repeated. But he could not. The panic took hold of him, he was terrified.

And then he woke up.

Eret was back in his village, helping his people. The first snow had fallen early that year and the ground was covered in white cotton. The sun hung lower in the sky every day and the nights were getting longer. Eret could hear his father playing the drum and chanting in a monotone voice on the bottom of the fell were spirits gathered. Eret’s mother came to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you still hearing the voices?” Mother asked Eret.

“Yes. They come to me now in my dreams as well. They speak of the end of the world”, he answered.

“Those are the voices of demons, my love. They are tricking you. The end of the world is not yet to come in centuries. We don’t speak about that”, his mother said kindly.

“I know. I wish I was healthy. I wish father could heal me. I wish he could free me from my demons”, Eret whispered. His voice was tired and crackling.

“Last night I saw a dream so vivid I thought I was awake. I saw a white deer, bigger than other deer, I saw it die and collapse to the ground. I saw the snow cover the corpse, then suddenly it was raining ash instead of snow. Then the stars fell from the sky.”

“I don’t want to hear it”, his mother told him and shook her head.

“Go to sleep”, she ordered.

The harsh winter storm blew thick snow around in swirls. Eret saw the forest trees bent so that they looked like they could snap and break anytime. His boots left deep footprints on the snow. He could still feel the heat from the burning wasteland somewhere far away, something in that vision had burned into his retinas forever, it was calling him. It felt as if there was a fire slowly growing inside his heart. Every night the stars fell in his dreams after the first deer was struck down. Every waking hour he was waiting for the world to end.

Then, he stopped. He had heard something. He hid behind the snowy white trees and listened. Between the heavy tree trunks he saw his mother and father speak to each other. They had not noticed him.

“The crow is asking my help. He comes to me, because our son will not leave with him. The crow is the spirit animal who’s tasked to lead him into the underworld but he won’t go”, Eret heard his father tell.

“It’s the demons in him. I am worried. I am afraid of him, to be honest”, his mother told.

“It’s not just the demons. I know you don’t want to hear this but I think, we should look for another kind of healing. I think we should take him to see what they call a psychiatrist. I think his mind is ill in a way that I don’t have the knowledge to heal”, Eret’s father said.

“No. I say no. And we do not discuss this again”, his mother answered in a determined voice. Then they started walking away.

Eret leaned his back towards the tree trunk and sobbed. He felt feeble, lonely, afraid. He knew there were demons inside him. He was afraid of what they would do to him. But he never thought his old-fashioned father would suspect he was mentally ill.

“I just need to follow the crow and go to the underworld, then I can leave my demons there and be born anew”, he whispered to himself.

That very night the crow returned. It sat beside his bed and looked at him. He could now see that the crow’s eyes were the color of an amethyst and they looked ancient.

You are ready to go now? The crow asked tilting its head.

Yes, Eret answered in his sleep. He was lying on his back and suddenly, he felt how he started to grow roots. They stretched and burrowed into the ground deeper and deeper. He could see the layers of earth flashing by, centuries of history. He came across a fountain so pure he had to stop and drink from it. Then he dug deeper and deeper and in the end he reached the earth’s core of lava. He felt the warmth fill his heart. He was relaxed. The voices had been silenced. There was only emptiness.

Come with me, the crow cawed and Eret opened his eyes. He was flying above a desert filled with bones. In the horizon he saw the wasteland burning and then… Someone was coming.

Don’t go there, come with me, the crow said but Eret could not move. He stared at the one coming, he had to know. This was his vision coming to life.

It was a skeleton riding a skeleton horse. The eye sockets of the man were empty and black but Eret could feel that the skeleton saw right into his soul.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Eret”, the skeleton said. Eret could feel that under the bones the man was smiling.

“Now, it’s time to fill your destiny.”

Eret woke up in the snow. He was cold, so very cold. He raised his hands and saw that they were covered in blood. He panicked. He could not remember how he got there. In the snowy branch of the downy birch the crow was sitting and said to him: you stepped astray. I cannot help you anymore. And then the bird turned into ash that vanished into the cold air.

Eret could see smoke rising in the distance. All of a sudden he felt like throwing up. The smoke was coming from the village. He rushed towards it and the fear filled his heart.

When he got there, he saw that everything had been burned down. There were charred bodies lying on the ground, the bones were broken. He knew what it meant to break a skeleton. He cried in disbelief. Among the corpses sat his father. Eret ran to him.

“What happened?! Where’s mother?” He asked. Slowly his father raised his head and revealed his mutilated face.

“You happened. Don’t you remember. You came into the village and slaughtered everyone. You broke the bones so that none of these people can get a new body in after life. They are now doomed to live without a new descended body, just free spirits lost in time. You are the end of the world. You have killed the first deer and you will make the stars fall from the sky. You will burn out the sun and the moon and you will see that the earth is no more. I should’ve recognized the face of death. You are not my son. I curse you demon!” The father said and collapsed to the ground dead.

Swiss Cheese

Ruth

I sat in the bathroom, face buried into my hands and breathing rapidly. I could hear Robert yelling outside the door. He was confused, going on about the same things we talked about every single day. I wished he would stop for a minute, give me silence and peace for just a little while but the heavy accusations kept coming. Why do you keep me here against my will? Why can’t I go see mom? When was the last time you thought about me, what’s best for me? You do nothing else but hate me. I want to leave. I want to go home.

How could I explain to him that this was his home. That mom had died twenty years ago. That I did not hate him, and I tried the best I could to take care of him. I did what I could so that he was able to live at home he did not recognize as his own. Would it be better to put him into a nursing home? There he would not have his own furniture and belongings, though and strangers would take care of him. Would it matter? There were days that even I was a stranger to him.

I got up and sprinkled my face with cold water. A tired, old and wrinkly woman stared back at me from the mirror. I was old, too old and too tired to take care of my beloved brother much longer. I simply could not do it anymore. I felt that I was not good enough. I was not able to help Robert. I tried though. And never got as much as a thank you for trying. Who would thank me? I was not a hero, I was carrying out my responsibilities. I was doing what anyone would do in my place. I changed his diapers, made sure he ate well and healthy, kept the house clean and safe, read books out loud to Robert and played him music as that sometimes seemed to bring back memories. His feet would start moving with the beat and he would suddenly remember long-forgotten things from childhood. He recognized the music.

The tiny, frosted glass bathroom window pointed towards the garden and from it I saw all the colors of the spring. It was nice that summer was coming. We could go to the park to feed the ducks and I could buy Robert an ice cream cone. It would be good to get out of the house. Robert was in good physical shape and he would have been able to go outside during winter too but I was not. A bad hip. I was able to move pretty well with my walker but I was too afraid of falling on the icy, slippery ground. And I knew that if I fell, I would probably not walk again. Then who would take care of my brother?

Robert was banging the door with his fists. He had always been calm, sweet and happy person, all of his life. Until he came down with the sickness. Then he started to have these tantrums. He scared me when he was like that. His words were sharp and hurtful, sometimes he even hit me but the most painful thing was to see the look in his eyes. It was a look of pure, raw terror. He was scared of the world around him. The world he was not able to recognize anymore. Who would not be afraid as a prisoner inside the faceless, unknown world. I opened the door and looked at Robert. Between his eyes were deep wrinkles of worry. He dropped his hand.

“Why can’t I go home?”

*

I woke up, in the middle of the night, to a feeling that someone was staring at me. I was not mistaken. Robert was standing at the door. I was not able to see his face in the dark room. I rose to sit and waited for him to get angry again but he just stood there. Suddenly he whispered in an unfamiliar, childlike voice:

“Mommy. Someone is eating up my brain. Someone is inside me and eating me away.”

I sighed in horror. He had never before seemed to be aware of his condition. Sure, he had stated that he had a bad memory couple of times but nothing like this. Shivers went down my spine. Could he be able to feel his condition? Could he be able to feel it inside him?

“Mommy. Soon I will be no more. Something’s gonna eat me and then I will be gone. Then there will only be that something who ate me.”

“Rob…” I whispered and turned on the light on the nightstand. I realized in horror that he had scratched his face bloody. The nail marks were red and the skin had broken so that tiny drops of blood ran down his cheeks.

“Oh Rob, why did you do that? That must hurt. Come, I’ll clean it”, I said and Robert stared at me confused.

“I was just trying to get it out of my head”, Robert answered in an innocent voice. It was terrifying to hear him distort his voice like that. I got up, took his hand and lead him to kitchen where I sat him down. I fetched a tiny towel I soaked in cold water, a bottle of disinfectant and couple of band-aids.

*

It went on for two weeks. Robert woke up in the middle of the night, and came to me thinking that I was mom. He kept going on that something was eating up his brain. He explained that his brain was like Swiss cheese, full of holes. Every time he spoke with a weird, childlike, high-pitched voice I had never heard him use before. Often he had scratched his face and couple of times even ripped his thin, gray hair. I was getting really worried and did not know what to do. So I called Robert’s doctor who wanted to see us. Unfortunately, the next free appointment was almost a month away. Until that, he recommended me to cut Robert’s nails short and make sure he was not hurting himself. The doctor also told me, that I could try a knit cap that covers the head and face but would not accidentally cover his mouth or nose while sleeping.

I cut and filed Robert’s nails that very evening. He did not like that and it took almost an hour as the whole time, he tried to fight back. After that I was warming up some honeyed milk for us. My own health was getting worse. Last few days, I had used my walker even inside the house. Getting up from the table, taking the couple steps to the refrigerator and then from there to the stove felt like an exercise. I was afraid I could not get out even during summer, by this rate. I glanced out the window and saw the Rowan tree standing there. The Bohemian waxwings had eaten all the berries during winter and now the new leaves were slowly sprouting.

Robert sat in the table staring out the window as well. Suddenly, he said in a low, coarse voice that reminded a dog’s growl:

“Cheese, cheese.”

I was startled and dropped the honey pot I was holding. Luckily, the lid stayed on and there was no mess but I knew I was not able to pick it up from the floor by myself.

“Do you want cheese with the milk? I can cut a few pieces for you, if you like? And Rob, sweetie, could you please pick up the honey pot for me?”

“Cheese, cheese, more holes. Soon there’s nothing left!” His growl grew into a terrible scream. I got so scared I burst into tears. I realized he was talking about his brain. It crossed my mind that maybe it was not my brother speaking at all.

“Who are you?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“Hmm… We live here now. He’s gone soon completely” Robert answered grinning. I could not be left alone with this thing. I started to make my way towards the bathroom, waddling painfully and slowly with my walker. Tears ran down to my chubby cheeks.

“You can’t run. When you are hungry, really, really hungry, you can never be full”, Robert growled after me and then laughed. I reached the bathroom, went in and locked the door. Then I sat on my walker and took deep breaths to calm myself down. For once, I was able to sit there in peace, the whole house was dead silent. I could picture in my mind, Robert sitting in the table, smiling a stranger’s smile. After a few minutes had passed, I heard how the milk started boiling over. I had to go back to the kitchen. Robert was standing at the stove, holding the pot, smiling happy and said in a perfectly normal voice:

“Whoops. This is ruined now but we’ll make a new batch, right?”

*

Officer Ainsley

I had never seen anything like that in my life. The neighbors had called the police when they heard loud screaming and shrieking. We got there as soon as possible and spent a good while knocking on the door without an answer. We tried the door and it was not locked so we let ourselves in. We went through the house trying to find somebody. When we got to the bedroom, I sighed in horror. Like I said, I had never seen anything like that in my life.

In the corner of the room, there was an old man hunched over an old woman’s still body. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that the old woman’s stomach had been ripped open and the intestines were hanging out. The old man turned toward us and his face was covered in blood. He was chewing a piece of meat that was partially hanging out of his mouth. When he saw us, he smiled and shrieked in a high-pitched voice:

“Cheese!”

The Song Of The Bombers

Elisabeth

The old mansion stood against the clear blue sky under the hot summer sun. On the gray stone walls grew brown and burned grapevines and the garden was overgrown, its tall weeds and flowers touching the wooden exterior shutters covering the lower windows. On the steps of the front porch a sparrow knocked a snail shell against the stone trying to break it. On the lawn, between the common plantains and meadow buttercups a lost, lonely toad croaked in a sad tune. The mansion was decayed, its basement filled with water damage, the red paint covering the inner walls had lost its former glory, and the attic had been taken over by rats and bird nests, but I loved the building nonetheless. It was mine, and I had gotten it for a fair price. The war had left the land torn, the countryside worn out, and the mostly abandoned villages struggled forward slowly towards better times. As a woman, I had benefited from the war since there had been a lot of work for me after men left to the battlefront. That was how I had been able to save enough money to buy the mansion. It was not the best house on offer but the broken beauty of the property fitted my state of mind well. It would be beautiful once more after some work, I thought, like this country would too.

I leaned my bicycle against the gate and lifted the braided basket from the carrier. In it was everything I needed to bring to the mansion first: the end of a bread, shaker of salt, a bottle of expensive cognac and Mimi, my dear collector’s doll. My parents had given her to me for my fourth birthday. Her beautiful blond and curly hair was long, her dress Victorian style and beaded with golden stones, and the long, black lashes shadowed the crystal white eyes. Her skin was porcelain and felt cold to the touch. I had always hoped to find other such dolls as well and become a collector but they were extremely rare.

Inside the mansion I swept and washed the thick layer of dust covering the floors. I lit a fire in the stone fireplace but the chimney was not working well so the smoke filled the room. I made a bed from a mattress on the floor in one of the rooms upstairs. I opened the shutters on the window and the orange glow of the setting sun flowed inside. The oak trees outside painted moving shadows on the walls. This is the first night in my new home, I thought and opened the mahogany cover of my diary. In it I wrote: I and Mimi, we are finally home. The war is over and the land, teared by the bombs, is starting to grow crops again. Soon people will have money to buy food and nice clothes. The summer is at its best, I need to enjoy it before autumn comes and the mansion needs to stay warm.

I woke up in the middle of the night as it had gotten really cold. I noticed, I had kicked the blanket away. I stared out from the window in to the moon that shined pale blue outside. It lit the room and I was able to see the remaining dust balls swirl on the windowsill. The mansion was silent, the only thing I could hear was a raven cawing somewhere. I pulled the blanket up to my ears and brushed my hands against my arms to warm up. Suddenly, I heard something else. A quiet hum from the horizon. It bounced on the walls around like a wild beast circling me. I froze and breathed silently. The sound, it was too familiar. I had heard it too many times before: an enemy bomber. But the war was over, so it could not be. I hugged Mimi and looked into her glass eyes, filled by moonlight, so deep into them that I could dive into childhood memories. I could remember the summer night’s grass brushing my bare feet, I could feel the warmth of the furnace on Christmas, I could smell the fresh baked plain coffee bread my grandma used to make, and I could hear my brother’s laugh in my head. My brother who left to the front six months ago and never returned. I tried to concentrate on those good memories so that I could not hear the sounds of the bombers approaching.

Then, I was awakened by the yellow morning light filling the room. Was it all a dream? It was as if the night turned in to morning in a blink of an eye. Instead of hearing a bomber closing in I heard a fieldfare sing. Actually, it sounded more like an old man laughing. I looked out of the window and saw the morning dew glistening on the trees and a thin veil of fog squirming on the ground. I got up to make some coffee but realized that I had no beans. I fetched water from the well, broke a piece from the hardened bread and fried it on a pan. I washed it all down with a glass of cognac.

I spent the day in the garden, cutting the burned vines, pulling countless weeds from the ground, and washing the mold from the stone walls. I was irritated when I realized just how much work it would take to return the mansion to its former glory. It would take months and I would surely need some help. I had a headache for I had forgotten to drink enough in the hot weather. My thumb was hurting from all the pulling and my knees felt sore from sitting on the ground for such a long time. I decided that that was enough, got up and started making my way inside. Something made me stop and I looked at the driveway painted by the setting sun. Suddenly, I felt dizzy and I could see how the air turned black and gray from the dust that fell from the sky. The plants and flowers died in front of my eyes and there was fire on the streets. The neighboring houses had turned into piles of stone and there were body parts sticking out under them. The mansion had moved and the scene seemed out of place. I was so petrified I could not move. In the middle of the smoke and ashes I saw a man. It was my brother. I yelled his name but then I heard the bombers. I closed my eyes and covered my head in my arms as it was hurting. Then, after a few seconds, the pain went away and when I opened my eyes I could see everything had returned to normal: the warmth of the sun touched my skin gently, the birds in the trees were singing, all the flowers boomed. Was it all a dream? Or had I gone completely insane? I ran inside and into the kitchen, where I sat at the table and trembled in terror. I did not know what to do.

In the night I could not sleep. I was walking through the mansion, making a list of things I would need to renovate. The giant, broken chandeliers and the old family portraits of which I did not know who the people in them were, all that historic beauty could not be belittled even by degeneration of the past decades. I was still in awe. I could not digest that it all was now mine. I sat in front of the old fireplace and placed Mimi on my lap, hugging her. To be honest, I was a little afraid of being alone. My mom had died at childbirth when my brother was born. I was two at the time. My father had passed away due to a pneumonia few years ago. My brother never returned from the war, I did not know whether he was dead or alive. And there was no one else left of our kin that I knew. I had never married, perhaps because I was too independent, too stubborn, and now, at 30-years-old it was too late. I felt lonely. And I was a woman so I would not be able to pass on our family name anyway. Would the last of Every die with me?

Suddenly, I got a feeling that someone was staring at me. The hair on my back rose and could imagine someone standing behind me in the room. Slowly, I turned my head and moved on the floor. The old wooden boards creaked. My eyes met the big windows facing the garden and I could see a figure standing in the shadow of the lilac tree. I sighed startled and pondered whether I was dreaming again. Would the war return to hunt me once more? No, this was different. The figure was an old woman with a scarf wrapped around her head. I felt a little curious.

I got up and walk to the window. Outside the woman was staring me. I waved at her and to my surprise, she waved back. I was now sure it was not a dream. I ran through dark rooms and hallways to the door and outside. My feet were bare and the wet grass felt cold under them. I ran to the lilac and the woman was still there, standing under the tree.

“Excuse me? Do you live nearby? I moved here just few days ago, my name is Elisabeth, nice to meet you”, I introduced myself and reached out my hand. I was thinking how weird it was, standing in the garden in the middle of the night talking to a complete stranger.

“You came with the doll?” She asked. In her eyes she had a glazed look and I realized, she was talking about Mimi. Suddenly, I felt unsure.

“Hmm… Yes, I had a doll with me when I moved”, I answered. The woman’s eyes moved and she now looked straight at me. Her eyes were smoky white and looked like she might be blind. She stepped out of the shadow of the tree and I could see that her face was not old at all but covered in holes as if the skin had partially melted away. I got scared.

“You should not be here, the bloody mansion should be burned to the ground”, her voice rose.

“I don’t understand… Sorry, I think it’s best if I go back inside...” I whispered. Right then the woman charged forward and grabbed on to my arm with both hands:

“The poor girl, look at me!”

I was terrified and yanked myself free. I mumbled a quiet ‘sorry’ and ran back inside. I was shaking. I ran all the way to the room upstairs, threw myself on the mattress and cried on to the sleeve of my shirt.

The next morning I felt silly that I had been so easily scared. I continued my work in the garden and enjoyed the sunny weather, even though, I had already burned my shoulders and they now glowed red like a boiled lobster. Fortunately, I was wearing a brimmed hat that covered my face. The cotton garden gloves were full of blades of grass and thorns from the rose bush. I combed my hair on my neck as it was sticking on to the skin from sweat. Then, like a lighting strike out of a clear blue sky, a white light blinded me. I tried to blink but I could not see anything. After a while, the light was gone and the world turned dim and gray. It was followed by a loud rumble and I felt unable to breathe. It was as if my heart was being ripped right out of my chest. I tried to yell but I felt like my face was melting from the excruciating heat. My hands and feet felt numb. It was as if I was being shred to pieces. And then, in an instant, it was over. I was sitting on the grass, in the summer day’s warmth, holding dead roses in my hand and in the lilac tree the robins were singing.

When the evening came, a glistening dew covered the leaves and the tree trunks. I was sitting at the kitchen table, tired. I was just falling asleep when I heard my brother’s voice. It was loud and clear and I recognized a line from an old prayer. I jumped, now awake and hit my head on the glass of water laying on the table knocking it over. Right at that moment I heard my brother scream. I got up and looked for him but there was no one there with me. I felt terrified. I felt chilly. I walked to the window that was open and as I was closing it I noticed the woman outside. She was walking in the garden, her head pressed down. I felt goosebumps but for some reason I yelled to the woman, invited her in.

We were sitting around the kitchen table, staring at each other. After a long while, she removed the scarf covering her head and gently folded it on the table. I stared in horror at her bald head, the broken, bloody skin, and her eyes that had no lashes and looked blind and murky white. I was thinking that she might be suffering from a disease of some kind.

“Tell me about your brother”, the woman asked suddenly. I was puzzled.

“My brother? He was lost during war, I don’t know where he is.”

“Wrong. He returned from the battle two years ago”, the woman said in a soft voice. I did not understand. I tried to say something but the words got stuck in my throat.

“Elisabeth. Look at me. Really look. Don’t you recognize me?” She asked and I looked. I did not recognize her. I shook my head.

“You see. I moved in to this mansion over two years ago, when the war was nearing its end. It happened on that street, I was standing there...” The woman explained and pointed to the cobble stone street outside.

“That’s when the bomb was dropped. It hit me hard, there was not much left of me, as you can see”, the woman said and spread her arms around her face.

“This bloody mansion, it survived somehow. With my last strength I dragged myself onto the property as I knew that I had to die here in order to stay in the mansion as a spirit.” I could not understand a single word so I let out a nervous laugh but she kept going:

“The mansion went to my brother when he came back from the war. But he should’ve never stayed and he should’ve never kept the doll. Mimi.” I could not breathe.

“Yes. Spirits are an interesting thing. There’s not just one inside a person but there’s several. You attached yourself to Mimi and chose to forgot, to deny what happened to us when we were one. That’s why you could keep your beautiful face but mine is gone. I am the picture of how we were when we died.” My head was spinning, I felt like I could throw up.

“You can sometimes see your brother, hear your brother, because he’s living in this mansion. Look closer. Look real close.” And I looked. The rooms around me changed into beautiful colors, filled with new furniture, brightened up by new paint, and right then I saw my brother sitting at the table where the woman had been sitting a second ago. My brother looked old, sorrowful and in his arms he was holding Mimi. I looked in to the crystal cold, white, blind eyes of the doll and saw in them a reflection of my bloodstained, disfigured face torn apart by the touch of a bomb.

The Frozen Ghost

Victoria

The cold wind whispered in to my ears and the waves crashed against the rocks shattering into a thousand tiny droplets on to my face. The sea was getting restless, I thought and pulled my hat deeper on to my head so it would not fly away. I was sitting on the warm rock and the autumn sun burned my bare legs and arms but the wind came from north foreshadowing winter’s come. My fishing rod quivered attached between rocks beside me but it attracted few fish. I stared at the sea and the tiny island, with a big and beautiful old lighthouse, in the horizon. It was called Beacon Island. During my 19-years of life I had never seen any light in there, it had been abandoned for a long time, I figured. I sighed and stood up trying to pull my long dress down so it would not rise in the wind. I grabbed the metal bucket beside me and examined the two tiny perch inside it.

“You go back now”, I told them and flipped the bucket so that the minnows dropped out with the little water in it, down back into the sea. Before they reached the water the wind grabbed them and for a while it looked as if they were dancing in the air. I took my fishing rod from between the rocks and reeled the line in. Then I climbed down the slippery, black stones to the sandy shoreline and started making home with the rod in one hand and the empty bucket in the other. The autumn sun had warmed up the sand and it felt nice under my bare feet.

I did not get far before I noticed someone approaching me along the shoreline. I stopped and squinted my eyes. The blond strands of hair too short to reach my braid were pushed on to my face by the wind and I could not see well. I was able to make out the person only when she was really close to me. I saw how a dark-haired young girl jumped towards me. She was wearing a denim overalls and a burgundy shirt under it. She was waving at me and I waved back. I did not remember seeing her before and in our closed island everyone knew each other. Beside the girl strutted a huge, furry Bernese Mountain Dog with its pink tongue lolling out as it went.

The girl stopped in front of me and the dog halted beside her obediently. The animal looked at me curiously.

“Hello!” The girl blurted out a loud greeting and tilted her head to the side smiling.

“Hey”, I answered unsure.

“You aren’t afraid of dogs, are you?” She asked. Her short, dark hair was swirling wildly in the wind. I shook my head and the girl muttered a release command to the dog. Right away, the big dog jumped and ran to me happily. It circled me sniffing and wagging its tail, licking my legs. I would have crouched to pet the creature if my hands were not full.

“My name is Annie. We just moved here, or not here but there”, the girl explained and pointed the island were the lighthouse was. I looked at her puzzled.

“I am Victoria. You moved into the old lighthouse? No one’s been there in decades.”

“I know. We rented a cabin here and will live in this island as long as it takes to renovate the lighthouse. Mom and dad plan to make it our home but an attraction to visitors at the same time”, she went on exited. I did not like what I was hearing, I did not care for outsiders, they scared me.

“Tell me, Victoria. Could we become friends? I haven’t seen anybody of my age in the island but you”, Annie inquired. I nodded smiling, even though, I gathered she was at least three years younger than me. Annie returned the smile.

We became good friends with Annie quickly regardless of the age gap. Annie turned out to be five years younger than me but mature for her age. We spent a lot of time on the beach even though the weather had gotten chill and the temperature dropped on the minus during nights. Bambam, Annies’s Bernese Mountain Dog, was always with us and I liked the dog a lot. I had been an animal lover since birth and my family had always kept pets such as sheep, chicken and cats and our neighbor had three Shetland Ponies. I was raised with animals. Bambam was a well-trained, little dumb but cute, big fur ball who adored his owner. Bambam also had a deep love for ball games. Annie once showed me Bambam’s ball collection she had under her bed in a shoe box. It was filled with different sized and colored balls that Bambam had found. Every time we went for a walk he seemed to find something resembling a ball.

Four weeks went by and the cotton-like first snow fell gently in to the ground covering the brown grass burned by the sun. The renovation of the lighthouse was ready and Annie invited me to a sleepover in her new home in Beacon Island. My parents were fond of my new friend and gave me the permission right away. Of course, I was old enough to make my own decisions but I still respected them highly and asked their opinion every time before doing anything. So I, Annie and her mom and dad, we took a rowboat to Beacon Island. After the cove would freeze during winter, we would be able to walk on the ice and get to the island that way. Annie’s parents let us get off the boat and then they turned and rowed away. They had agreed to us spending the night in the lighthouse alone. I found it very exiting!

The lighthouse looked tall and robust in the winter sun. I had never seen it so close up. The outer surface was decayed and rough and the rock underneath was covered in slippery, black ice. The door inside opened with a creak and everywhere smelled of detergent and chloride. Interior stone walls had been painted with light and colorful tones and there were paintings on the walls that depicted old sailing ships at sea. There was new, modern furniture and it looked like any house, really. Although, I had no clue as to what lighthouses would normally look like on the inside. My grandmother and grandfather had told us not to go to Beacon Island when we were little, I did not recall why. Nevertheless, there had been so many things to do in our own island that I guess it was why we never even tried coming here to see the lighthouse back then.

Long stairs crept up the walls all the way to the top. I followed Annie as she introduced her new home to me. On the very top, there was the beacon I had never seen lit. Around us circled big windows and the scene was breathtaking. In a bright day like that you could see so far. I had never imagined anything like that. Winter sky was clear and baby blue, the sunlight was reflected by the sea and I could make out all the nearby islands. I found our house peeking in the distance, it looked very different than the picture I had in my mind. I saw sheep pacing slowly across the island, scrabbling the thin layer of snow in order to find dry branches under it. Two hungry seagulls flew over the sea searching for a meal. I admired the beauty of the landscape and felt a little sting of jealousy due to the fact that Annie had the privilege to live in a place like that.

At the nightfall we made a little nest from blankets to the couch and stayed there munching treats and playing card games. Bambam lay beside the couch under our feet begging for scratches. He had already given up what came to the treats as he knew we did not share our food. It was pitch-black outside but inside we had a dim light and a couple of orange, beeswax candles burning on the coffee table. After the serene day the wind was now rising and we could hear it whistling through the walls. The hand on the clock had already passed midnight and the temperature inside seemed to be dropping so we dug even deeper under our blankets.

We were just starting a new game when the lights suddenly flickered.

“Oh, it seems like it’s going to be a stormy night”, Annie said and kept dealing. The lights flickered again and were then cut off completely. A frightening darkness swallowed everything around us and I could see nothing but the candles on the table and Bambam’s face beside them. The dog got up and started pacing around whining.

“Phew, lucky we had the candles otherwise we wouldn’t be able to see anything”, Annie said jumping off the couch and dropping her gray blanket on the floor. I felt anxious as I did not like the dark. To be honest, I was scared of the dark.

“Come Bambam!” Annie whistled. “We have our own generator but I can only access it from the outside. Don’t worry, I try to get it working and we’ll have the light back in no time”, she assured me and grabbed her dog by the neck fur gently to guide him to the door. But Bambam disagreed. He got free and started growling at the door. It was too black for me to really see the dog well but I heard from his voice that the hair on his back rose up. I got up and stumbled towards the girl and the dog. Annie sighed theatrically at the dog and opened the door. The strong wind forced itself in and messed up my long, blond hair.

It was dark outside but the thin snow shined a little. I was terrified and froze in my place. Even though, it did not feel too cold outside, the sea was frozen! Waves had turned into clear ice in the middle of movement and the wind made the light powder snow swirl on it. The dim moon was shining through the stormy clouds in the sky.

“It’s not possible”, Annie whispered and stared at the sea as if she was bewitched. I knew, I looked the same. Right then, I saw a figure gliding through the ice towards us. It was a man wearing a giant raincoat. He stretched his arms towards us and lifted his head so we could see that under the hood there were no face at all, just black emptiness.

“Get inside, Victoria! Now!” Annie yelled and pulled my arm. My legs felt as if they had turned into liquid and I could not move. Annie managed to get me moving nevertheless, and pulled me inside closing the door behind us. She was panting in horror.

“What was that?” I was able to ask. Bambam snugged himself against my legs and whined scared. Even in the darkness, I could see that the stress had made dandruff appear on the dog’s fur.

“I don’t know. Lets climb up, I feel safer there than at the ground-level”, Annie answered and we stumbled up the stairs. We were so scared we stayed up till morning staring into the darkness outside through the windows, baffled by the frozen sea, listening to the wind howl around us. In the end, the tiredness won and we fell asleep clinging to each other. My eyes closed and I was carried into a frightening and confusing nightmare where the man without a face chased me. To me, he looked like a lighthouse keeper. I had never believed in ghosts but then again, maybe they were real after all?

After that night we did not want to spent another night in the lighthouse. I noticed that Annie had lost a lot of weight and looked more pale every day. I did not look too good myself either. The sea was not frozen and my mom and dad said it never had been. Had we just imagined everything?

Winter went and spring came. Everything turned to normal but I kept seeing nightmares. The lighthouse keeper’s ghost came to me in my dreams every night and at some point I started talking to him. The faceless man assured me that Annie was plotting something sinister. He told me that Annie planned to drown me. I did not understand why I was having such horrible dreams. I started avoiding Annie and we were together rarely anymore.

Grandma refused to talk about Beacon Island. When I asked her why she had forbidden me to go there when I was a child, she only said:

“That place doesn’t have a pleasant history. Let it go, it’s all in the past now.”

Grandpa was easier to persuade into talking. He told me that a long time ago there was a keeper in the lighthouse. Living there with his wife and daughter. One night the beacon was not lit and people became worried so they went to the lighthouse to check what was going on and found the wife and the daughter dead inside. The lighthouse keeper was never found and people were telling stories that he killed his wife and daughter and fled. Some said that he had gone mad in his isolated island as he had been a sort of a hermit, never socializing with anyone else but his family. I felt shivers down my spine. After hearing the story, I was sure, I would never go back to Beacon Island.

Summer came and my nightmares stopped. Mom was worried that I had fallen sick, so thin and pale I was. I tried to eat better and hoped that the sun would give me a healthy tan. I was sure, I would get brisker now when I was able to tend to the flowers and animals and go to the beach and enjoy the warmth. We became friends with Annie again, forgetting the past winter. I was not sure why our friendship had fallen out, because of my nightmares? All the sorrows brought by the harsh winter had been swept away by the summer’s sun and I enjoyed my friend. Actually, Annie was more like a sister to me. We were even closer than we had been last autumn.

After some time, Annie managed to talk me over to going to Beacon Island. And we had a great day there playing games and fishing. However, when the sun started to set in the horizon, we made our way back in a rowboat as I was still not ready to spent a night in there. The water was gently rippling against the boat and the droplets on the oars glistened in an orange hue in the setting sun as Annie rowed forward in the cove. Somewhere far away a seagull started laughing. I let my eyes close and felt the warmth. I loved summer. I was just thinking about the little fish I had gotten and that I would offer them to my two cats for supper as suddenly, I lost balance and fell in to the water forcefully. I opened my eyes but they could only see the chill sea water everywhere. I felt my lungs filling with it. I panicked and started scooping the water around me in order to find back to the surface. Then, something hard struck my head and I spun deeper. I knew, I would drown if I did not get to the surface soon.

It felt like an eternity as I spiraled around in the water. I tried to follow the sunlight coming through the surface. Finally, I managed to get my head above the water and immediately started coughing. My head was spinning and it was hard to see at first. I was afraid I would pass out. Then I calmed down and saw that our boat was floating beside me turned over. Annie held on to it and looked at me:

“I bumped into something”, she said calmly. I nearly drowned but the girl had made no effort of saving me, I thought in terror. Or was it just my imagination? She had been in danger too. Suddenly, I felt something brush my leg. I looked down and saw an empty face deep in the water. Black face, the lighthouse keeper’s face. I heard a blaming voice echoing in my mind: She did it on purpose. She tried to drown you.

I started screaming and shaking my legs in horror so that the ghost would let me go.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asked. I calmed down and looked at the water again and there was nothing in there. I shook my head. I did not want to tell the girl what I had seen.

The next night I could not sleep. Had Annie really tried to kill me? She was an outsider in our little community, after all, I had to remember that. My dad had often reminded me, that you could not trust outsiders.

Days went by and I asked my mom to tell Annie I was not feeling well and did not want to see anyone. Mom was worried. She said I looked feverish. I was having nightmares about the lighthouse keeper again. I was so afraid to fall asleep I tried to keep myself awake with excessive amounts of coffee but in the end, I always got too tired and the dream world took a victory over me. The nightmarish, faceless ghost would find me and assure me that my best friend was trying to kill me. She will try again. Beware! You need to defend yourself.

That day the weather was calm and warm, the sky clear and bright. But the air was still and felt like it was preceding a thunder storm. I sat on the rock like so often, on the beach wearing my summer hat. I looked at my bare legs that were pale. I had no tan. Maybe I had spent too much time inside that summer. My eyes met the towering lighthouse in the horizon. How was Annie doing, I wondered to myself. I sighed and closed my eyes. The sun shined through my eyelids and turned my world into a lovely yellow dream. The air smelled of sea shells. Minutes went by and I almost fell asleep. Suddenly, my skin turned cold and I felt goosebumps on my arms. I opened my eyes and the yellow was gone, the whole scene was bland and gray. After a while, my eyes grew accustomed to the brightness and I saw that the sea was frozen. I screamed and pulled the fishing rod in my hand but the line would not rise. It had stuck to the frozen waves. I dropped the fishing rod and stumbled up on the icy rock. My toes were freezing. I raised my hands to my chest and tried to warm them up. Then I heard someone yell to me:

“Hey Victoria! What are you doing there?” Annie was standing in the frozen, hard sand on the shoreline with bare feet, hands wrapped around her and wearing a green summer dress. She started making her way up the rocks and I immediately panicked. She could easily push me into the sea and I could get really hurt falling and hitting my head on the rock or the ice.

“Don’t come!” I screamed to her and she looked puzzled. She stopped but only for a second and then continued climbing up. I grabbed the knife I used to gut the fish, and hid it behind my back.

Soon Annie was standing right in front of me, looking straight into my eyes. Her eyes were pale blue like ice.

“Are you alright?” She asked carefully.

“Don’t come near me!” I yelled and tried to back off but I lost my balance and almost fell. I was slipping on the black ice and panicked. I plunged forward with all I got and stroke the small, sharp knife right in to Annie’s chest. Her eyes grew large and she was staring at me in shock. Then she opened her mouth and bright red blood gushed from her lips. I snapped out of my fear and closed her into my arms.

 “No, no, no, no, I’m sorry Annie...” I kept repeating and hugged her while her body turned lifeless in my hands. I saw something in the corner of my eye. I slowly turned my head and there he was: the lighthouse keeper’s ghost in his big raincoat. Even though, he had no face, I could feel him smiling. He turned his back to me slowly and started disappearing towards the sea. The water behind him broke free as he went and the waves crushed against the rock. The heat of the sun returned agonizing and I felt sweat gathering on my forehead. Then I heard a sad whining and looked down. The big, black Bernese Mountain Dog stood there hopeless with a yellow tennis ball in his mouth.