Morrigan’s bottom lip quivered as we stood at the edge of the property.

It looked as if nature itself was trying to pull the house into the ground. Vines climbed between gaps in the brick. A wide tree had crushed one side of the house, and the other side was lifted with stringy roots dangling under the floor.

Before I could ask if she was okay, she said, “It’s so lonely.” She lifted her hand as if to greet it, then touched the corner of the house where the tree fell. You couldn’t tell where the house ended, and the earth began.

“Something is calling me.”

“Like in The Wastes?”

“Sort of.”

I glanced around the property. The other trees were old and dead, some stood strong while others had fallen over, leaning on each other.

Mori floated to the vine-covered front door.

“I’ll wait outside,” I called, but she turned in a snap. “Please, go with me. I don’t want to go alone.”

Something was really weird about this place, and I didn’t feel like snooping for once. My gut was screaming at me to leave, but there would be no coming back. I followed her to the door and pulled at the tightly strung vines.

Morrigan watched me with worried eyebrows. I grabbed the handle, turned, and opened the door, scraping it against the wood. She floated through the threshold, bobbing close to the floor.

The house smelled weird. Acidic, like the corroded metal on my bike. Humidity wafted through the door, and puddles of standing water gathered in the uneven areas of the rotted floor.

Morrigan floated through the rubble silently, Her eyes drifting across the mess.

Old toys rotted in the water. Faint echoes filled the house and sounds of chanting grew louder, but still inaudible.

I watched my feet closely as we walked through the uneven house. Dream-catchers made of macramé and feathers had fallen tangled on the floor.

A bookshelf sat down a slope where all their books were peeling apart. I reached for a fat one and it cracked as I opened the first page. Photos of Morrigan and her parents filled the book. Images of their newly purchased house and the vineyard pulling together bit by bit. I slid out a photo of old, withered plant matter and flipped it over. Still no harvest, but we’re hopeful written in thin, flowy cursive.

Not all the photos had writing. I slid out another one of a grape the size of a pea and flipped it over. Our first harvest. I smiled. Then there was the photo of the opening of the vineyard. The one I’d seen before of Morrigan holding the hefty grapes.

“Mori, look,” I called as I stared at the photo of the tiny grape. She appeared in a second and kneeled with me.

I handed her the photo. “You weren’t entirely forgotten. This book tells your story.” She stared at all the pictures. The vineyard coming together, the wine, customers filling the yard, and even some of Morrigan playing with her toys or with her parents.

I slid the picture out where she held the big grapes and flipped it over. Our Legacy. I frowned. “Do you mind if I keep it? This one’s my favorite.”

“Go ahead.”

I placed it in my journal folder.

“I don’t remember any of this.” She shook her head. “It’s like I didn’t even live.”

“Well, you did. And you seemed to be a very happy family.”

Morrigan smiled, and her form glowed blue. The first time I’d seen it like that. I was happy to make her feel better. Her parents couldn’t anymore. How had they left her behind? I wondered if I could be left behind too, and my stomach turned.

“I remembered something.” Morrigan stared at a photo of her parents with red wine-filled glasses. “I didn’t say it before because I didn’t think it was important. It’s something that’s stayed with me—even in The Wastes. I had asked Mom why we stayed away from the town. She wouldn’t let anyone on the property unless they were buying. No kids were allowed over.”

She shook her head, then her voice changed, sounding like an older woman. “‘We can’t reveal ourselves. We have to be who the town needs us to be.’ I never knew what that meant. So I guess I never knew who I was. I was always just doing what they told me to do.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

I stared at the floor in silence before I spoke, “That’s probably why you couldn’t move on from The Wastes.”

After a minute, I looked back at the photo album, trying to adjust my eyes. But they wouldn’t. I thought maybe those photos were blurry, so I flipped through a few more pages.

Each photo grew blurrier and darker as if they were fading into some void. My breathing went shallow as I flipped page after page, hoping to see something clearly. The room went completely dark except for where my body made a long black shadow across the crooked floor, completely alone.

***

“What’s wrong?” Morrigan asked after what felt like an eternity. I shook my head. The photos in the album were clear again. “I’m okay.”

Morrigan watched me for a minute, then turned toward another room at the end of the hallway as if she heard something. She rose and bobbed through it. More family photos in the vineyard sat crooked and broken along the narrow hallway.

Morrigan entered a room at the end, surrounded by antique mirrors. The designs, swirls, flowers. They were beautiful. Morrigan gazed into them. She looked the same in her reflection.

Echoes or memories of the past played through the house. A child’s laughter, a mother’s cooing, a father’s silly noises, and all along, the faint sound of chanting and secrets.

“I remember this mirror.” Morrigan kneeled in front of it. “It was my favorite.”

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to something sticking out underneath it.

She reached in and pulled a dusty book out. Her misty hand wiped away some of the dust and revealed the title, Rituals for Prosperity. Her eyes squeezed shut. She looked like she might cry. I didn’t know what to do. Then she finally opened her eyes.

“I’ve found this before. When all our grapevines were dying. Mom started leaving in the middle of the night and I got suspicious. Especially since the grapevine—the clearly dead ones—started growing. And fast.

“I came in here one night while she was out, and I found this. That’s when I realized what she was doing. They had been so caught up in making the vineyard successful and being stressed about it that I just missed them so much. So… I started giving Mom the wrong ingredients. That’s when the vineyard started to fail again. I didn’t want to. I just thought I’d get my family back.” She cried.

I touched her forearm.

She stared at the cover, then cracked it open. A little note slid out, written in the same scrawly cursive from the photos. We read it together.

Morrigana. Let yourself forget. Let us all fade.

“N—no!” Morrigan shook her head and let the paper float to the floor. “Why do they want to be forgotten?” She stared deep into my eyes as if she would find the answer there.

We sat in silence for a second, then she flipped through the pages of the ritual book. The room had grown too dark to see, and my stomach dropped. “We have to go.”

Morrigan’s head snapped up, confusion flashing, then understanding. Taking another glance in the mirror, the full moon of Friday the 13th was reflected.

“The moon.” She whispered.

“Yeah, I’m really late now. Mom’s gonna kill me.”

She shook her head, staring into the mirror. “No.”

The mirror blacked out and changed, showing a dark night at the vineyard.

“No!” she screamed. “This is the night it happened.”

My skin ran cold, and I didn’t think I wanted to see this. Would the mirror really replay their deaths? But I felt like I couldn’t stop watching.

Morrigan clipped herbs from the back garden, peeking around the corner to make sure her mother couldn’t see. Many of the plants looked the same, so it would be hard to tell the difference between the herbs, especially at night. She handed them to her mother and said goodnight before walking back into the house. Morrigan walked to her room and peered out the window, watching as her mother ripped the herbs apart and chanted as she sprinkled them over the grapevines. Her mom looked confused as they started growing quickly…too quickly. She ran frantically around the vineyard, changing her chant and growing louder until they eventually grew all over the house. Morrigan curled up in a ball under her window, a thin crescent moon reflected in the mirror.

Vines climbed Morrigan’s mom’s bare feet, then legs. Her dad burst into the room, asking if she was okay. Grasping hands, they tried to run through the door as the house began to crunch underneath them. Vines poured in the windows as the earth pulled their house in. Then a giant tree slammed into the bedroom, crushing everything beneath.

The scene faded, and the mirror reflected our shocked expressions.

“I killed us,” Morrigan plopped to the floor.

***

I stood silently for a while, not knowing what to say. “What do you mean? It couldn’t be your fault.”

“But it is! The type of herbs you use depends on the moon phase. I gave her the wrong ingredients, but I didn’t know it could do all that.” She sobbed. “We have to get you home before your mom gets mad.” She pulled herself up like she was using her last bit of strength.

We left the broken house, checking to make sure no one saw us, and walked toward home. I didn’t talk to her on the way. I didn’t know what to say, and I couldn’t imagine how she felt.

I froze when I saw Mom’s car in the driveway while passing Desirae’s.

“What do I do?” I asked.

“Go home,” Mori mumbled. “Just tell her you must have gotten home right when she left.”

I was so tired of lying, but it was my only chance to keep Desirae as a friend. If Mom knew where I went, I could get grounded. I ran back home as fast as I could. Though I kept feeling this random pulling sensation through my body. Was I that out of shape?

***

Once I got inside, I caught my breath and called Mom on her mobile.

“Emily?!” She nearly yelled.

“Mom, where are you?”

“I’m at Desirae’s. Her dad called when you left on your own. Why didn’t you call me?!”

A lump formed in my throat. “I just didn’t want you to have to drive over and pick me up. I thought I could just come home on my own. Seriously, I must have gotten home right when you left.”

“Honey, he said you left here an hour ago. It doesn’t take that long to get home. Where have you been?”

Morrigan’s eyebrows raised.

“Has it been that long? I guess I just took my time. I’m really sorry, Mom.”

“You will be.” She hung up.