In the Wicked Woods
The swing creaked. It was a sound as familiar to Janet as it was antithetical to the Wicked Woods. The worn wood of the seat cushioned her while the old rope scraped at her hands. She let her toes drag in the black dirt and the swing slowed.
“I don’t understand why are you here,” said the ghost who leaned against one post of the swing.
Janet had learned long ago that looking at ghosts made her eyes sting and her stomach queasy so she kept her eyes straight forward. Not that looking would have helped to identify the ghost. The ghosts of the Woods changed face and form like Janet’s sister changed shoes. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“If you don’t already know then I won’t be able to explain it to you.”
The ghost appeared directly in front of Janet. She wore the cherubic face of a little girl but her dark eyes held the gravity and cunning of the very old.
Janet’s stomach churned and she shut her eyes tight. Goosebumps rose over her arms and legs. She could smell the ghost now, a faint mix of smoke, rain and lilacs. She knew this one. Considering what the ghost was capable of, Janet knew she shouldn’t allow herself to relax and feel a measure of comfort but she couldn’t help it. She was alone, encircled by the Woods, and no one would be coming to save her, but she smiled. “Well met, Lisla, I’m glad you came here first.”
“You always were a strange child,” there was no warmth in Lisla’s voice, “but you are not a child anymore. You have no excuse for trespassing here even if you are as crazy as the old man was.”
Janet continued to smile, eyes closed, “I take after my Grandfather, in spirit if not in looks.”
“He’s dead.”
Even now, it hurt. Janet took a slow breath and let it out. “I know.”
“If you go now, you can still leave.” There was something new in Lisla’s tone that Janet had not heard before. “I’ve made a path for you.”
Janet looked at the ghost. She steeled herself to ignore the shifting transparency of the ghost’s face and see just Lisla’s eyes. The same something was hidden there, flickering in the dark depths. “I was right.” Janet said even though she couldn’t be sure of what she saw or heard, it was so very faint.
“You have to go now.”
Janet shook her head. “I’m not going.” She let go of the swing and spread her hands. “Like you said, I’m as crazy as he was.”
Lisla’s form grew taller but seemed shrunk in on itself even as she loomed over Janet still seated on the swing. Her face, still shifting, now appeared more grotesque than cherubic. “I can’t protect you.” She hissed.
Lisla’s desperation could not sway Janet from her decision, but it was a confirmation of Janet’s hopes for the ghost. “I’m glad you came, Lisla, but you don’t have to stay and watch what happens next. The path-”
“-will not conceal a soulless.”
A cold wind blew low over the few blades of yellow-brown grass. It twisted around Janet’s ankles and whispered cruel words.
Janet swallowed back her own fear and kept her eyes on Lisla. “If you have no soul then there is no risk. Take the path.”
For another moment the ghost hovered. There was rustling in the trees. Shadows deepened.
“Go now.”
Lisla touched a cold hand to Janet’s face. “I’m sorry.” She vanished, just before darkness enveloped the clearing.
