I
know what a bomb sounds like right before it explodes. So does Emily. It was
only a question of time before mine went off.
I
was nine when I saw my first bodiless.
It flitted down the hall of the old estate Mother and Pap moved me to. A
“family” house. We sat at the dining table, and my parents didn’t flinch when
the essence curled through them, the
specter’s eyes flaring with each touch.
“Alice, look away,” a
whisper filled my ear.
I
turned and came face to face with a girl—a year or two older than me—whom I’d
never seen before. She had bouncing brown hair and eyes no color I could
define. Gray, but green, but also blue, then nothing. Her presence faded and I
was left looking at the wood-slated wall.
Mother
called me back to the meal, unaware of my visitor, and I ate, bewildered by the
experience.
That
night, I woke to an awareness of being watched. The girl sat on top of my
chest, weighing nothing, scowling down at me.
I
pushed away and tumbled from bed. She floated down, crouching next to me.
“I
am Emily.” The words whispered like a summer breeze through drapes.
“You’re
a…a ghost?”
She
shrugged a shoulder. “I am, and so too will you be if you do not heed me. We
have so little time, Alice. Less than I had.”
I
rose, rubbing my bruised elbow. Emily lifted a few inches off the floor and
waved me forward. I followed her into the hall, up creaky stairs, and into an
attic. Draped furniture filled my periphery, but straight ahead stood a
wardrobe with a gleaming lock.
Emily
offered a key, a solid, chrome thing. It was cold in my palm. Heavy.
“You
are the keeper now.” A wistfulness crinkled her eyes as she halted next to the
cabinet. “Whatever you require to fight them will be inside.”
“Them?”
She
shivered. “The bodiless. They are spirits of the departed who have power in the
mortal realm. Already they are drawn to you, but they will come in droves once
you open the door, and they will keep coming.”
“To
me? Why?”
“Because
you can stop them.”
“Stop
them from what?”
She
blinked and floated to the corner. Then back. “I never found out. They got the
upper hand before I could discover.” Her jaw clenched. “But I will stay with
you, Alice. I will guide you until you no longer need me. You will be better
than I ever was.”
“At
what?”
“Killing
the wraiths.”
***
Four
days elapsed. I didn’t catch another glimpse of Emily, but the bodiless had
become a permanent guest. At first it was harmless. Then it started bumping
into picture frames and knocking them down. It overturned vases and jars. I watched,
knowing I could stop it, but broken things could be replaced. I could never
unopen that door. Emily’s warning filled me with dread.
The
entity began throwing things at my family—first weakly, a cup flicked off the
counter, a pen skittering across the floor. Then stronger. A ball hurled down
the stairs. A frying pan flung directly at my head, breaking a window.
My
parents saw nothing. I was blamed.
The
angry inner clock beat a rhythm: protect,
defend, defeat. The wraith was winning and only I could stop it by
unlocking my destiny.
I
climbed to the attic and held out the key, aimed for the strange wardrobe.
Emily materialized at my elbow.
“What
will I find in there?”
“One
can never know.” Her voice trembled.
I
glanced at her, startled.
She
motioned me forward, and I pressed the key into the lock. Light shot out around
the metal. I shielded my eyes and twisted the key, a click thudding in my ears.
It
was done. The thing that could never be taken back. The decision that would
forever tie me to this ghost girl and the coming horrors.
The
light dimmed to an otherworldly glow—like dawn, but thinner. A light that had
substance.
I
pulled back the door, ready to jump. A wooden, toy bear sat on the shelf. It
was missing one painted eye and chipped in several places.
Emily
perked up from behind my shoulder. “That was not nearly so terrifying as I had
anticipated.”
“What
things did you find in the cabinet?”
A
crash sounded below. Mother screamed.
We
both whirled. Emily threw herself in front of me, blocking my path, pointing to
the pathetic bear. I grabbed it and hurtled down the stairs, into the living
room. Mother lay on her side. A coffee table overturned near her head. The
wraith hovered over her, energy swirling between its claw-like fingers.
“Get
away from my mother!” I jumped at the specter. My body passed right through it.
We both shivered.
The
thing fixed on the bear in my hands, its mouth falling open in horror. It threw
energy at me. I dodged. The wall behind me splintered. The wraith launched
another wave. I dove. Stuffing blew out of the sofa like blizzard snows.
The
bodiless flew straight at me, dragging power with it. My heart ticked like a
bomb, one that would explode on impact. This was survival or death. Like Emily.
I
lifted the bear and the thing slammed into it. The entity spun away, shook
itself, and glared.
Its
fists unballed. It fixed on Mother. The wraith shot me a smirk.
My
heart stopped.
Not
mother.
And
then, like a dark curtain had been dropped from my mind, I knew what I was, and
what I had to do.
I
was a poltergeist hunter.
Holding
the bear at arm’s length, I marched toward the entity. Its eyes shot wide. It
turned and jerked, like a grappling hook had been thrust through it and yanked
taut.
“Enter
and stay. Enter and hold forever. Enter and never escape your cage.” The words
were in my blood. They were my blood. Not English or any kind of civilized
tongue, but they pulsed with power.
The
thing’s mouth gaped in a silent shriek. I lifted the bear higher.
The
wraith melted toward me, seeping into the bear, its final essence lapping
outward in a desperate attempt to flee.
“Enter
forever,” I repeated.
The
bodiless slammed into the bear. I rocked back and fell, the toy toppling from
my hands. It landed across the floor, its painted eye gleaming briefly, and
then all was quiet.
I
hurried to Mother’s side.
My
mother was fine. She insisted she’d tripped and knocked her head. I didn’t even
receive blame for the rest of the damage, which made me think she’d seen
something. At least she wouldn’t be attacked again by that bodiless.
That
was the last I saw of Emily for a long time. I returned to the attic, but the
wardrobe was gone. The only evidence of the encounter was the key weighing my
pocket, and the weird bear I kept on my nightstand as a reminder. It would be
the first of many trophies.
I
am not Emily. Some days I wish I could be, for she was truly great. Hers was a
great burden. Now it’s mine.
AND
