found another block of high
wall at her side, but at least on this face, there looked to be an opening. So
she made for that.
She
was fast, and it sounded like the man had fallen on taking the turn, but when
she reached the opening, it was closed off with a tall iron gate, too close to
the ground for squeezing under and too high for climbing. She threw herself
against the gate and the chain holding it rattled and held ; locked tight. But the gap between was a hair wider than the space between the
bars, which were spaced just too closer for her head to get through.
The
man was closing. She ’ d have only one shot at getting through
before she ’ d have to give up and run for it again.
She wedged in hard, her back to one side of the gate and her belly to the
other, and she grabbed the edge of the gate with both hands and pushed hard,
feeling it flex just the tiniest bit to let her belly through, while her
temples caught and smarted. In that little instant of pain, she somehow sensed
that the gate was flexing out more at the bottom ; pivoting at the chain. Not much. Not enough to see, but enough for her to know
what to do.
The
man reached the gate just as she slid down, buckling at the knees and dropping
through the gap and away. The gate bounced back together onto his reaching arm,
catching him at the elbow and making him swear. He fell backwards onto his tail
and then onto his side, rolling clumsily back to sitting almost upright. He
scooped up a handful of grit and slung it at Celeste, spraying the iron of the
gate and Celeste ’ s retreating legs.
Inside
the gate, inside the high wall, it was streets and houses again, but of a different scale and different sort. She recalled the train ride into New Orleans and the sight of a strange white
walled town sprawling near the tracks. Remembered too how Odette had said it
was a cemetery. She wasn ’ t in that town now,
but one much like it. She pressed on and turned a
corner, trying to get away from sight and sound of the angry man, who was still
at the gate, cursing at her.
Walled
in with the dead, and a nasty man guarding the gate.
Her
fright had made her legs weak and she dropped down at the corner of one of the
little house that looked like its owner might not care. A stone angel — wings neatly folded and eyes downcast
in Celeste ’ s direction, stood above the door.
There was a narrow ledge down at the bottom, just big enough to sit on, which
suggested visitors were welcome. She would just rest a bit and give the man
time to forget about her and move on again. She ’ d slip out then and
head back to Odette ’ s. The stone was cold and dry, where
she ’ d thought there might be morning damp.
Cold enough to reach through her dress and skin to wash out the heat of her
scare and settle her down. Numbing her thoughts, but not her feelings — or her old fears.
“ Here to disturb the
peace. That it? ” asked the dry voice beside her; maybe
coming from just around the corner where anyone might easily have slipped up to
take a seat without notice. Anyone could do that and not be heard, if they
walked on dead feet. Dead and quiet feet.
Celeste
would not turn her head to look. She would not speak either.
“ A girl that walks the
street ’ s not a proper girl. You should know
that, even at your age. ” The tone of the
ghost was not harsh, but there was that tone of disapproval that hinted at
deeper and darker feelings. “ But you ’ re just an ignorant child. Little know-nothing girl from the side of a dusty road who dug in
the dirt as black as herself, just as she should, until she got notions of
fancier things. Used to just tag along behind her papa or sit on her
mama ’ s knee for dreamy talk. But then he ran
off and she died. Crushed in her sleep when she should have been up tending to
things. Isn ’ t that so? ”
The
cold lost its grip on Celeste and the heat flashed up in her head, all at once
like a knot exploding in a slow burning log. “ You go back
wall at her side, but at least on this face, there looked to be an opening. So
she made for that.
She
was fast, and it sounded like the man had fallen on taking the turn, but when
she reached the opening, it was closed off with a tall iron gate, too close to
the ground for squeezing under and too high for climbing. She threw herself
against the gate and the chain holding it rattled and held ; locked tight. But the gap between was a hair wider than the space between the
bars, which were spaced just too closer for her head to get through.
The
man was closing. She ’ d have only one shot at getting through
before she ’ d have to give up and run for it again.
She wedged in hard, her back to one side of the gate and her belly to the
other, and she grabbed the edge of the gate with both hands and pushed hard,
feeling it flex just the tiniest bit to let her belly through, while her
temples caught and smarted. In that little instant of pain, she somehow sensed
that the gate was flexing out more at the bottom ; pivoting at the chain. Not much. Not enough to see, but enough for her to know
what to do.
The
man reached the gate just as she slid down, buckling at the knees and dropping
through the gap and away. The gate bounced back together onto his reaching arm,
catching him at the elbow and making him swear. He fell backwards onto his tail
and then onto his side, rolling clumsily back to sitting almost upright. He
scooped up a handful of grit and slung it at Celeste, spraying the iron of the
gate and Celeste ’ s retreating legs.
Inside
the gate, inside the high wall, it was streets and houses again, but of a different scale and different sort. She recalled the train ride into New Orleans and the sight of a strange white
walled town sprawling near the tracks. Remembered too how Odette had said it
was a cemetery. She wasn ’ t in that town now,
but one much like it. She pressed on and turned a
corner, trying to get away from sight and sound of the angry man, who was still
at the gate, cursing at her.
Walled
in with the dead, and a nasty man guarding the gate.
Her
fright had made her legs weak and she dropped down at the corner of one of the
little house that looked like its owner might not care. A stone angel — wings neatly folded and eyes downcast
in Celeste ’ s direction, stood above the door.
There was a narrow ledge down at the bottom, just big enough to sit on, which
suggested visitors were welcome. She would just rest a bit and give the man
time to forget about her and move on again. She ’ d slip out then and
head back to Odette ’ s. The stone was cold and dry, where
she ’ d thought there might be morning damp.
Cold enough to reach through her dress and skin to wash out the heat of her
scare and settle her down. Numbing her thoughts, but not her feelings — or her old fears.
“ Here to disturb the
peace. That it? ” asked the dry voice beside her; maybe
coming from just around the corner where anyone might easily have slipped up to
take a seat without notice. Anyone could do that and not be heard, if they
walked on dead feet. Dead and quiet feet.
Celeste
would not turn her head to look. She would not speak either.
“ A girl that walks the
street ’ s not a proper girl. You should know
that, even at your age. ” The tone of the
ghost was not harsh, but there was that tone of disapproval that hinted at
deeper and darker feelings. “ But you ’ re just an ignorant child. Little know-nothing girl from the side of a dusty road who dug in
the dirt as black as herself, just as she should, until she got notions of
fancier things. Used to just tag along behind her papa or sit on her
mama ’ s knee for dreamy talk. But then he ran
off and she died. Crushed in her sleep when she should have been up tending to
things. Isn ’ t that so? ”
The
cold lost its grip on Celeste and the heat flashed up in her head, all at once
like a knot exploding in a slow burning log. “ You go back
Similar Books
