NurseEmma coughs, sobs “...done something sooner...
Waithere. If it must burn, I’ll make sure it burns.”
Tereziasays nothing; it’s getting hard to breathe.
Flamesengulf the chair, smoke gathers, filling down.
Bloodpools from the doctor...one more spell to weave.
Shecoats her hands in blood, crawls close to the ground.
Betweenthe two tables, she writes one more spell.
NurseEmma comes downstairs, dragging wet linens.
Shelooks at Terezia. “What the hell?”
“Toharm just evil souls... Magic insurance.”
“Ihope you’re right. I don’t really want to die...”
“Oh,we’ll still die. But the good souls will be free.”
“You takeconfessions?” Nurse Emma sadly sighs.
Tereziapauses. Smoke and fire she sees.
“Aquick one, if you must. Or we won’t end this.”
“I’molder than you... He gave me...what he stole...
“Ididn’t say no.” Emma coughs and confesses.
“Myfam’ly died. They never knew what I know.”
Theflames on the chair have lessened in the smoke.
“Terezia,”Nurse Emma says. “I’m sorry.”
“Thenfinish this, now. Before our fire gets cold.
“Helpme up to the console... over here, hurry.”
NurseEmma leaves the linens draped up the stairs,
helpsTerezia move—so close to the fire!
“Now...I need you to move the chair in there.”
NurseEmma shakes her head. The chair is burning!
“I’lljoin you shortly, but I must do this first.”
Tereziamoved dials, flipping and turning.
NurseEmma grasps the chair; the pain is the worst.
Pushingthrough pain, pushes the chair on the spell.
Lightningcrackles above, a buzz fills the room.
Tereziagrabs Emma’s hand with a yell.
Hernecklace dangles between them. And boom.
8.
Shewatches. She watches. She watches her eyes.
Shewatches. She watches. In silence, she sighs.
Penanceand silence, end the ghosts in their eyes.
Casssits in her car. The police tape still sways.
In herhand, Gram’s necklace—charred, blackened rust.
Infront of her smolders the burnt bone remains
of themansion once known as Pinehaven Rest.
Thecul de sac’s empty, police and fire gone.
Twodays ago, it burned—burned down to the ground.
Theycollected the remains, little more than bones,
identifyingbodies with items they found.
Cassgets out of her car. Twilight falls darkly.
In herhand, Gram’s necklace burns like it’s on fire.
Shemoves closer, eyes narrow, trying to see.
Isaw something. Something. I’m not crazy, I swear.
Thefire and smoke still stain the air that she breathes.
Likean unfiltered cigarette’s smoking taste.
Shecrunches over crisp wood, inside she seethes.
Whatare you doing here? This is just a waste—
“Cassandra.”She stops. What did she just hear?
“Cassandra.”Something. Something is just there!
“Cassandra.”She knows that voice on the air.
“Cassandra.”“Gram, I hear you. Tell me where—”
Tereziastands in the very center
of thesmoking wreckage, holding someone’s hand—
NurseEmma. Fading and edged with cinders.
Cassfreezes and stares. “Gram, I don’t understand...”
Thetwo spirits look at each other, at Cass.
Tereziareleases the nurse; she rises.
Embersdance inward from her edges consume
tillonly a spark, like a star, entices
moreghosts to rise from the mansion’s burnt ruin.
Breathstops in her throat. Cass clutches at her chest.
Thenecklace twines hotter around her fingers.
Eachspirit lifts, lined in sparks of unrest.
Edgesburn inward on spirits who linger.
Up,up, each ghost flies, flickering souls burning,
disappearingamong stars starting to shine.
Watchingeach ghost’s leaving, Cass feels a yearning.
Gram’snecklace glows in her hands. This gift is mine.
Shelooks to the place where her Gram was standing.
Lightshines so bright, she must cover her eyes.
Whenshe can open them, a pyre enchanting
offiery sparkles twirls up, into the skies.
Nomore words are spoken. Cass wipes tears and goes.
Thetruth and the story, the meaning of lies.
Love,guilt, pride, penance, fear—all this she now knows.
Sheputs on Gram’s necklace. Ghosts live in her eyes.
Shewatches. She watches. She watches her eyes.
Shewatches. She watches. No longer she cries.
Penance is over, through the ghosts inher eyes.
They Come With The Storm
Dan Foley
Thenight was filled with the howling wind and thunder of breakers beating againstthe eroding beach. Ghostly figures rode within the waves. They came with thefirst winter storm when cold winds from the north signaled the death of summerand the coming season of darkness. They emerged from the waves crashing uponthe shore. The sea passed over them, around them, through them. Their groansand shrieks entwined with the wind as it assaulted the land. They were white asthe seafoam they emerged from, light as the spray that surrounded them. Theywore the fog like a shroud as they approached the village and the warm bodiesthat awaited their arrival. In the morning much of the sand would be gone,swept away by an angry ocean. But more than sand would be lost this night.
Thefog drifted over and around the homes of the town, small cottages mostly madeof stone. If any had dared to peer closely into it, they would find specters ofthe dead, drowned in the sea, staring back at them. But no one did. Instead,they huddled in their homes, shivering behind closed doors and shutters,waiting for the night and the storm to pass.
“Doyou think it will be enough?” Manda asked her Da as they huddled in theirdarkened cottage.
“Ofcourse,” her Da replied to reassure her. “It always has been.” There was doubtin his response. He had barred the door, shuttered the windows. A fire roaredin the fire place barring entry there. Just because it had always been enoughin the past didn’t mean it always would be.
Outside,the bleating of the sheep tied to the sac-pole fought to be heard through thehowling of the storm. Then it was suddenly cut off, leaving only the sound ofthe ghosts and wind to rule the night. Their offering had been accepted. In themorning, when the storm passed and the dead returned to the sea, they would seehow their neighbors had fared.
Mandawas out the door when the first ray of sunshine filtered into the kitchenthrough the thickly leaded glass of the room’s single window. Da and Mafollowed on her heels. Soon, others emerged from the protection of their homes.There were no celebrations, however, the terror of the night was too fresh.
Thesheep, an old ewe that had been tied to the sac-pole was gone. The rope, whichhad held it tethered, lay slack on the ground. The loop that had been aroundits neck was unbroken. The animal had been torn from it in pieces, but not adrop of blood marred the ground. The shades had taken everything. They alwaysdid.
Relief,then apprehension, surged through Manda. She had made it safely through thereaping, but what about William? Had he been as fortunate? She breathed a sighof relief when she saw him coming down the lane toward her. She didn’t knowwhat she would do
