she moved.
She gasped and crawled backward until her back was pressed against the bars. She was in a cage, not unlike the one that had housed Frances, a canary that had belonged to one of the elders years ago.
Her shallow, panicked breaths echoed in the blackness. Above her, the chain creaked and groaned.
The cage was lined with a soft mattress made of silk. It smelled heavily of lavender.
Am I in the spirit world?
she asked, to no one in particular. She was too frightened to speak aloud.
A flame lantern had been left in the cage, and by looking at the pool of melted wax, Pram knew she had been asleep for a long time.
She hugged her knees to her chest. Her heart was beating double in her ears, and as she’d always done, Pram tried to tell herself that the extra heart belonged to her mother. But she realized now how silly that idea had been. She was alone. More alone than she ever thought possible.
“Hello?” a voice said.
Two hands grabbed the bars of Pram’s cage. She flinched and gripped at her skirt. “Don’t be afraid.” Between the two hands, a young man’s face came closer to the bars and brought itself into the light. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
Pram swallowed hard. “Did you need me to help you with something?” she asked.
“Why do you think I need your help?”
“Because you’re dead,” Pram said. Slowly, she uncurled her limbs and sat up straighter.
“Oh, that,” the young man said. “Sorry if it frightens you.”
“It makes me feel better, actually,” Pram said. With ghosts she at least knew what to expect. The living were the ones still capable of harm. “What’s your name?”
“I can’t remember,” he said.
“What would you like to be called, then?” Pram asked.
“ Finley,” the young man said. “That’s what everyone around here calls me.”
Everyone?
Pram wondered but didn’t ask. She fanned out her skirt pleats into a curtsy. “I’m Pram.”
Finley smiled, and Pram felt herself smiling back. There was something about him that calmed her, even though his left temple was blackened and bloody; a faint smell of smoke told Pram that he’d died in a fire. She couldn’t always tell how a ghost had died; sometimes they didn’t remember their deaths, and they appeared as they last remembered themselves to be, like Felix. Animals also came out unscathed. Pram once witnessed a badger get hit by a car. As its body lay damaged and red on the ground, its spirit arose and scurried off into the woods, wholly intact, as though a minor thing such as death couldn’t interrupt its plans.
“Is there a reason you came to me?” Pram asked.
“You asked a question,” Finley said. “I didn’t hear all of it. I’ve been busy with this falling star. I’ve been expecting it to drop for days now, and I wanted to be nearby when it finally came down. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the wishes people make. It’s nice to hear the living all at once.”
It sounded wonderful, and also sad, Pram thought. “I asked if I was in the spirit world.”
“You look alive to me,” Finley said. “Anyway, I don’t need help. You’re the one who looks like she needs help.”
Pram willed herself not to cry. “A woman who calls herself Lady Savant brought me here. She told me she was going to help me find my father, but now I see she just wanted to lure me away from home.”
“Oh, her,” Finley said. “She does like to take things that don’t belong to her.”
“What does she want from me?” Pram said.
Footsteps echoed on a hard floor. “You’re sure to find out,” Finley said. “Those are her heels clacking on the marble.”
Pram paled with fear.
Finley slipped between the bars of Pram’s cage and sat beside her. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You seem like such a brave girl, talking to a ghost.”
“She killed my friend,” Pram said. Saying the words aloud meant accepting what had happened. Her arms shook as she hugged her knees again.
She gasped and crawled backward until her back was pressed against the bars. She was in a cage, not unlike the one that had housed Frances, a canary that had belonged to one of the elders years ago.
Her shallow, panicked breaths echoed in the blackness. Above her, the chain creaked and groaned.
The cage was lined with a soft mattress made of silk. It smelled heavily of lavender.
Am I in the spirit world?
she asked, to no one in particular. She was too frightened to speak aloud.
A flame lantern had been left in the cage, and by looking at the pool of melted wax, Pram knew she had been asleep for a long time.
She hugged her knees to her chest. Her heart was beating double in her ears, and as she’d always done, Pram tried to tell herself that the extra heart belonged to her mother. But she realized now how silly that idea had been. She was alone. More alone than she ever thought possible.
“Hello?” a voice said.
Two hands grabbed the bars of Pram’s cage. She flinched and gripped at her skirt. “Don’t be afraid.” Between the two hands, a young man’s face came closer to the bars and brought itself into the light. He couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
Pram swallowed hard. “Did you need me to help you with something?” she asked.
“Why do you think I need your help?”
“Because you’re dead,” Pram said. Slowly, she uncurled her limbs and sat up straighter.
“Oh, that,” the young man said. “Sorry if it frightens you.”
“It makes me feel better, actually,” Pram said. With ghosts she at least knew what to expect. The living were the ones still capable of harm. “What’s your name?”
“I can’t remember,” he said.
“What would you like to be called, then?” Pram asked.
“ Finley,” the young man said. “That’s what everyone around here calls me.”
Everyone?
Pram wondered but didn’t ask. She fanned out her skirt pleats into a curtsy. “I’m Pram.”
Finley smiled, and Pram felt herself smiling back. There was something about him that calmed her, even though his left temple was blackened and bloody; a faint smell of smoke told Pram that he’d died in a fire. She couldn’t always tell how a ghost had died; sometimes they didn’t remember their deaths, and they appeared as they last remembered themselves to be, like Felix. Animals also came out unscathed. Pram once witnessed a badger get hit by a car. As its body lay damaged and red on the ground, its spirit arose and scurried off into the woods, wholly intact, as though a minor thing such as death couldn’t interrupt its plans.
“Is there a reason you came to me?” Pram asked.
“You asked a question,” Finley said. “I didn’t hear all of it. I’ve been busy with this falling star. I’ve been expecting it to drop for days now, and I wanted to be nearby when it finally came down. If I listen hard enough, I can hear the wishes people make. It’s nice to hear the living all at once.”
It sounded wonderful, and also sad, Pram thought. “I asked if I was in the spirit world.”
“You look alive to me,” Finley said. “Anyway, I don’t need help. You’re the one who looks like she needs help.”
Pram willed herself not to cry. “A woman who calls herself Lady Savant brought me here. She told me she was going to help me find my father, but now I see she just wanted to lure me away from home.”
“Oh, her,” Finley said. “She does like to take things that don’t belong to her.”
“What does she want from me?” Pram said.
Footsteps echoed on a hard floor. “You’re sure to find out,” Finley said. “Those are her heels clacking on the marble.”
Pram paled with fear.
Finley slipped between the bars of Pram’s cage and sat beside her. “Don’t be afraid,” he said. “You seem like such a brave girl, talking to a ghost.”
“She killed my friend,” Pram said. Saying the words aloud meant accepting what had happened. Her arms shook as she hugged her knees again.
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