“When everyone tells you to be strong, you start to wonder if it’s because you aren’t. So when someone else calls you a hero, it feels like a joke.”
----------------------------------------
I stand in the kitchen watching a plate of pizza rolls twirl in the microwave. Maggie flails an imaginary sword through the air as she imitates fight moves. She interrogated me in the shower after I got home, begging to hear what new powers I learned. She practically drooled when I told her about our sparring match. Now, she’s determined to make me into some sort of ultimate fighter. Why couldn’t she have been a reaper? She seems to enjoy it far more than I do.
“We should practice together,” Maggie says breathlessly. “We’ll start with defense. If I can touch you, you lose. Ready?”
She springs her arm out to touch me. Hot panic rushes under my skin. My mind flashes with the image of the Davidson boy grabbing my arm. I wonder if he knew touching me would kill him. He trusted me. And I destroyed him, all because I couldn’t control my emotions. Maggie’s hand comes within inches of my arm. I can feel the air cool around her, lifting the hairs of my skin. If she touches me, I could kill her.
“Maggie, don’t!” I leap backward.
“Woah,” she holds her hands up. “I’m not actually going to hit you. It’s like Tag. Jeez, you can’t be this jumpy if you’re going to hunt monsters.”
“I’m just…” I swallow. “I’m not in the mood right now.”
Gently, I rub my swollen wrist. Feeling returned to my hand not long after Dr. Ward treated the burn, but now it stings constantly. I asked him to use his blood weaving one last time to heal it, but he refused. He just sent me home with some aloe vera and painkillers.
“You okay?” Maggie asks.
“I’m fine,” I say as the microwave chimes. “I’m just tired.”
I hear Mom’s car pull up outside. Quickly, I grab the plate of hot pizza rolls and walk toward the stairs. But just as I hit the first step, the front door opens.
“¿Mija?”
I freeze on the steps, but I don't look at her. I'm too afraid to. Afraid of what I might say, of the rage that could sneak into my facial expressions. Every word that comes from her lips—every breath, every thought—is a lie.
“How is your grandmother?” She asks, hanging her coat up and shaking off the cold.
“Good. A friend of hers is sick though.” I say, scrambling to remember what Granny and I even talked about.
“Who?” She asks.
Shit. What was his name? B something. I wasn’t really paying attention. “Mr. Baker. He’s one of the other residents at the mansion. He’s been tired lately. She thinks he’s coming down with something.” Granny mentioned her friend after we discussed Jaqueline deserving a broken nose. I’d rather not mention Jaqueline to Mom right now though, so this will have to do.
“He could have the flu. She should stay away from him before she gets sick too. Bring her some food tomorrow. I doubt they disinfect their utensils well enough.” Her tone is so unfeeling. Of course she already has a diagnosis. It doesn’t matter the situation or her part in it; she always has a firm assessment and critique. I could tell her my friend died of an overdose, and she’d probably tell me to choose better friends.
I take another step up the stairs.
“¿Tienes hambre?” She asks abruptly, stopping me. “I was going to make sopa.”
I turn to face her and hold up the plate of pizza rolls. “I have homework.”
She quickly looks away when my eyes meet hers. Something must be on her mind. I don’t want to hear it. I turn back up the stairs to make my escape.
“Autumn?” She asks.
I face her once more. “Hm?”
“I just want you to know, last night. I was harsh.” She breathes. “I know things are difficult without your father. It isn’t easy. He…”
I narrow my eyes. She sucks in another breath and picks at her nail polish, unable to keep eye contact.
“He always knew what to say.” She stiffens and looks up at me. “I just want you to stay focused on what matters. We have to be smart now. We have to be strong together.”
I release a slow sigh through my nose. “Yeah.”
That’s probably about as much of an apology as I’m going to get.
Be strong. Thanks Mom.
----------------------------------------
The white light of my computer monitor beams against my face as I write my physics report. Luckily, Coach Jackson isn’t much of a reader, so it only needs to be two pages double-spaced. Ethan’s notes are thorough. He even included a crude drawing of Jaqueline with an arrow through her head and X’s over her eyes. A boy after my heart.
After finishing it, the blog comes easy. Though it feels different now. It isn’t a shout into the void anymore. I think I miss thinking no one would ever read my posts, let alone believe them. Now, I have an audience of two. Hannah even made JJ an account since he refused to make his own. I submit the post and watch my view count quickly jump from zero to two.
“OMG that’s me! I finally got featured in a GhostPost!!” HannahHex - 9:42pm
“You could have died. We should have prepared better. I’m sorry we weren’t more careful Spooks.” InspectreGadget - 9:44pm
“:P At least you learned more about your powers. BTW, why does Ward always have to be so weird? He knows this isn’t the middle ages right? It’s not like you’ve fought with a sword b4.” HannahHex - 9:45pm
Maggie lingers beside me, her gaze fixed on the toy soldier from the Windy House resting on my desk. She examines it closely, tracing her finger over the thin scorch marks that weave around it.
“So, Shy Boy’s soul was tied to this?” Maggie asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, resting my cheek on my palm.
She straightens herself and looks at me. “Can I read your dad’s notebook?”
“What for?”
“Just curious.”
I get out the notebook and open it for her.
“Tell me when to stop.” I flip through the pages slowly. I’m used to turning the pages for her. She struggles to move anything unless her emotions are heightened.
“There. Stop.”
I lay the book down beside me on the desk, then return to reading Hannah and JJ’s comments.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Shy Boy deff knew about the cannibal monster.” HannahHex - 9:48pm
“I’m not certain the cannibal and the monster are the same entity.” InspectreGadget - 9:50pm
“It eats people. What else would you call it?” HannahHex - 9:50pm
“A carnivore. Either way, something else is in those woods. Hannah might not remember much, but she saw something when Shy Boy possessed her. The cannibal must have something to do with Cedar Hollow.” InspectreGadget - 9:51pm
“Yeah, it probably ate them all. X_X” HannahHex - 9:52pm
I roll my eyes and shut the computer off. I’m exhausted and sleep sounds wonderful. I walk to my bed and collapse into the soft pillows. I grab my sasquatch and squeeze him tight. But when I reach to turn off my lamp, I notice Maggie. She hasn’t moved from that spot, still glued to the notebook, flipping through the pages with ease.
“Maggie?” I ask.
“Hm?” She replies, not looking at me.
I sit up and squint, trying to see what has her so focused. I can only make out a few weaving patterns on the pages. Whatever it is, it’s important to her. I’ve never seen her so interested in anything but comics and listening to my school drama. Come to think of it, she didn’t even ask about school today. She only wanted to know what I learned from Dr. Ward.
“You know,” I smirk. “I think Ethan might like me.”
She turns and sneers at me. “Are you kidding? Welcome to planet Earth. Those dreamy green eyes couldn’t stop looking at you when he came over. He totally checked you out by the way.” She glides in front of me and leans in close to my face. “But do you like him?”
Warmth flushes my cheeks. Honestly, I did this to myself.
“I don’t know,” I scoff. “He’s fine, I guess.”
“You guess?! I will possess you and date him myself.”
Her threat of possession turns my skin cold. I quickly look away from her to hide it.
“I was joking,” she says softly.
I feel the air shift as she tilts her head. When she sits beside me, I flinch, and a new fear crawls up my spine. I’m used to the uneasy feeling I get around spirits. I’ve never felt alone. I always feel eyes watching me. But for the first time, I’m afraid of the absence of that presence. I’m afraid of the day the voices stop, and I really, truly, am alone.
“Spooks?”
“What if I wasn’t supposed to be a reaper?” The question spills from my lips. “Dr. Ward said it normally skips a generation. It was supposed to skip me. Maybe it should have. I know you want me to be some kind of hero, but what if I'm not?”
Maggie stares at me for a moment, then looks down.
“Can I show you something? Bring the notebook, and Mr. Squatch.”
I start to question it, but I’ve never seen her take charge like this. So, I do as she says. I grab my stuffed sasquatch and Dad’s notebook then quietly follow her down the stairs. The lights are off and Mom is already in her room. When we reach the front door, Maggie passes through it. I open the door just enough to slip through and walk out into the cold snow.
“Maggie, it’s freezing out here and I’m in my PJs.”
“Just come on.”
I follow her down to the street. Greenfield is still and quiet as bedroom lights begin to switch off. The streetlamp overhead flickers as Maggie passes it. She stops in the middle of the road and looks up at the moon. It’s huge tonight, like a living face in the sky looking down on us.
“What are we doing out here?” I complain.
“My parents never liked me wandering from their perfect plans.” She stares out into the darkness as light snow dances around us. She squeezes her hands into fists at her sides. “My dream was always to explore. I wanted to see the world and experience all of its wonder. But more than that, I wanted to make as many friends as I could. I wanted to meet someone as weird as me. Someone who understood the dark thoughts I had every night. You know, the ones that chain you to the bed until you rot?
“But I was their perfect daughter. I needed to have normal friends. There were only three places their sweet Christian daughter needed to be. School. Church. Home. And I didn’t need medicine, because that would mean something was wrong with me. Right?” Her voice shakes. “And now, even in death. I can’t get more than a hundred feet from this goddamn house!” Her voice doesn’t echo, even as she shouts.
Maggie steps forward. Her silhouette suddenly loses its color. Her body fades into nothing more than outlines and she falls to her knees. I run to her and drop beside her, instinctively grabbing her hands. Touching her cold skin.
“I’m glad you’re a reaper Autumn,” she says gently. “Not because I want you to be a hero. Because you are one. You see me.”
My breath shudders. Her obsession with the notebook suddenly clicks in my head. The toy soldier, the weaving patterns, the sasquatch doll.
“And if I attach you to an object, you can be free,” I deduce.
She smiles. “We can go to school together. I can visit Granny. I can help you train. We can—”
“Maggie, I can’t.” I release her hands. “We don’t know how it works and I’ll just kill you like I did the Davidson boy.”
“Your dad’s notes give clear instructions. You just have to weave the correct pattern. It’s easy.”
“But you’re safer he—” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth.
“Here? In the house I haven’t left in over ten years? Where I can still see the swing set I hung myself from?” She grabs my hands, even after I shrink away. “Autumn, please.”
“I could hurt you.”
“I know you won’t.”
“What if it doesn’t work?”
“What if it does?”
I release a soft breath. She isn’t going to give up. I open the notebook and flip through the pages until she stops me. Braids, knots, and patterns of every kind are sketched onto the pages. I skimmed over these when I read it initially. It felt like dad was simply learning to braid hair or taking up knitting. In my defense, his notes are so scrambled. I’m pretty sure he used one of the pages to write a grocery list. But now that I look at them, the threads are clearly meant to be soul strands.
Each pattern serves a purpose. A square knot is simple and easy to do. It's perfect for most echoes but won’t hold stronger entities for long. A chain braid, finished with a weaver’s hitch, will bind powerful wraiths, so long as you can hold them long enough. The hex weave will compel the spirit to protect whatever it’s tied to, and a double coin knot will make them feel any harm done to the object.
I recognize the pattern Shy Boy was bound with. Dad’s notes call it the shield braid, allowing him to hide away. It was combined with a blood knot, a sign the attachment was formed in life. He must have been holding the toy soldier when he died.
“This one,” Maggie says, pointing to the heart knot, a simple binding requiring a willing spirit and the hair of a loved one.
“I’m not sure I count as a loved one, Maggie,” I smirk.
“I am.” She looks up at me with a face of firm resolve.
My chest warms. It’s easy to see why she picked the heart knot. It will bind her emotions to mine, allowing us to share senses like sight and sound.
“I think we should add the shield braid, so you can hide if needed.” I have a feeling the monster can see spirits. “But it says here the object has to be something you find comfort in.”
“Good thing we brought Big Foot here.”
She’s already thought this all through, and she’s made up her mind. I'm the only variable. I’m the only reason this could go wrong. This is insane. But even now, as I waver in fear, her face is still and calm. She has so much confidence in me.
So, I close my eyes. I take a deep breath and let the cold air fill my lungs. Shadows seep into the forefront of my mind, and I welcome them in. The darkness is my calm. The night is my shield. When I open my eyes, Maggie’s bright form glows before me. Threads of silver and white slowly flow from her like ribbons in the ocean.
“You ready?” I ask.
She nods assuredly.
I reach out and grab one of her threads. My senses flood with warmth as her emotions crash into mine. They aren’t singular like that of the echoes I’ve reaped. Colors of hope spill into my mind hand-in-hand with loss and shame. I smile as her endless passion and wonder dance in my heart.
Then, I weave. I braid her strands into intricate patterns around my stuffed sasquatch. I’m slow and methodical, careful to follow Dad’s instructions. But soon, I settle into a rhythm, and it merely feels like braiding hair with a friend. She asks more about Ethan as I twist the threads. I should be terrified. I should be worried I’ll fail again. Instead, I laugh as she plans my future wedding for me. She insists I wear something purple for her.
“It’s the best color. Easily my favorite. And you have to have fireflies! That’s how you can honor me.”
Honor me, I note. I’m reminded that, inevitably, I will have to lead her to her portal. She will cross the veil. And I will have to let her go.
“You skipped a loop,” Maggie breaks my thought. “You can’t mess this up at the very end.”
I quickly correct my error and complete the shield braid. Then, I pull a hair from my head and twist it around one of her threads. I complete the heart knot and pull it tight around Mr. Squatch. The knot even looks like a heart when pulled taut.
“Is that it?” I ask nervously.
There are no magic lights, no bursts of energy, only the quiet of the night as we sit in the cold. Cautiously, Maggie takes a step forward. Then another. She reaches out her hand, and a tear drips from her cheek.
She turns and wraps her arms around me, plunging her head into my chest. Fear pulses through me once more, but it washes away. And I wrap my arms around her.
“You know what this means right?” I ask.
“That you’re the best sister ever?”
For once, holding her doesn’t feel cold. I feel her warmth.
“You’re now officially my sidekick.”
“Oh my god, I need a sidekick name!”