A Flight of Souls
Page 8
“But we are not alone in believing them,” Nolan said. “There are many others who have also heard of this rumor, however it was initially told. There are others already here, waiting along with us for the next full moon.” He gestured with his head toward the edge of the cliff, and then began walking toward it, indicating that I follow him. Gazing down, I saw that Nolan’s words were true. There was a whole crowd of ghosts, perched on the ledge, most of them in casual positions, gazing out at the beautiful view. I stepped back again with Nolan and returned my eyes to the gate.
“When is the next full moon?” I asked.
“According to the last lunar calendar I glimpsed—and according to my memory—it’s tonight,” Nolan said. “At midnight.”
Midnight. As if the story wasn’t fairytale-ish enough already. I nodded slowly. “I see.”
“We have nothing to lose by being here,” Nolan muttered. “If the story is true, we can only gain.”
“So there’s supposed to be some light that shines from the gate, and ghosts get sucked in… According to the story, what causes the light? And where do they go exactly? What is on the other side?”
“We don’t know exactly,” Nolan replied, shrugging. “All we know is that it’s supposed to lead to where we belong.”
There was a pause as I struggled to believe even a single word Nolan spoke.
“Will you wait with us?” Chantel asked after a span of silence.
I shook my head. I doubted that there was truth to this fable, but even if it was true, of course I was not ready to leave this world. Yes, I was curious to know what was on the “other side”—if it really even existed—but I wasn’t prepared to move on.
“No,” I replied.
“Then you will continue on your way, to the supernatural realm?”
I stalled. My original intention in going there had been to visit Ernest, but I was put off by that idea now. I’d only thought of him because I’d been desperate, not knowing of any other ghosts’ location. Now that I was here with Chantel and Nolan, I asked the question that I’d been burning to ask all along.
“Is there any way at all to reverse the potion?”
Both Chantel and Nolan were already shaking their heads.
“No,” Chantel said. “That potion is final. There is no way to reconnect with our bodies.”
“Believe us,” Nolan added. “We’ve tried.”
Of course, even if there was a way to reconnect with my body—assuming it hadn’t rotted away or been swiped from that Cruor mountain by now—I couldn’t. Because my heart was infected and the moment I came to life again, I would risk the Elders’ uprising all over again.
Still, I wasn’t ready to give in to the idea that there was no other way for me to live an even half-fulfilling life on Earth. That my only way of future happiness was to “move on”. Perhaps I just had not been a ghost long enough yet—had not been beaten down by the passage of time—but I still had some fire in me. Especially since the discovery that I could inhabit animals.
Clenching my jaw, I accepted their answer with a nod, though internally I was pushing it away with all that I had.
“You’re welcome,” they said together.
The two of them waved before turning around and heading back to the ledge to join the other ghosts.
“Oh, wait,” I called, suddenly remembering something else that had been bugging me since the conversation started. “Why were you hesitant to talk to me at first?”
Nolan’s shoulders sagged. “Because not all ghosts welcome talk of the afterlife. Some, especially those who are newly deceased, become very angry about it.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, thank you again.”
“Good luck, Joseph.”
Ben
After Nolan and Chantel left me, I dove through the portal. Arriving on the other side—on the small island some miles from the shores of The Tavern—I began to ponder what my next move ought to be.
After having had a taste of helpful ghosts like Chantel and Nolan, I was still reluctant to seek out Ernest again, even though he was nearby. Maybe there would be some other ghosts in The Tavern who would be willing to talk.
Chantel and Nolan had been firm in their conclusion that it was not possible for a ghost to return to their previous life—now I wanted more opinions.
And so I drifted into the sky and tried to find my way back to The Tavern. I got lost a bit over the waves but because the island was not far, and with my supernatural speed, I was able to spot its familiar outline soon enough.
I headed straight for the harbor. That seemed to be the most logical place to start. I had time. I figured that I ought to do things as systematically as possible, to make sure that I found every ghost who might be on this island, if there were any other than Ernest. He would be my very last resort.
I searched aboard every single vessel in the harbor, but found no ghosts. It was only as I neared one of the entrances to the main island and passed through the thick oak door that I had a stroke of luck. Slumped next to the ogre who was guarding the entrance was… another ogre. A ghost ogre. His features were similar to the living one next to him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were related. Perhaps brothers.
I had my reservations about trying to get information from an ogre—they weren’t exactly the most eloquent of sorts—but there was at least one good omen about him: his eyes were open. He wasn’t asleep, and absorbed in some dream like Ernest no doubt would be. The ogre ghost’s eyes widened as he spotted me.
“When is the next full moon?” I asked.
“According to the last lunar calendar I glimpsed—and according to my memory—it’s tonight,” Nolan said. “At midnight.”
Midnight. As if the story wasn’t fairytale-ish enough already. I nodded slowly. “I see.”
“We have nothing to lose by being here,” Nolan muttered. “If the story is true, we can only gain.”
“So there’s supposed to be some light that shines from the gate, and ghosts get sucked in… According to the story, what causes the light? And where do they go exactly? What is on the other side?”
“We don’t know exactly,” Nolan replied, shrugging. “All we know is that it’s supposed to lead to where we belong.”
There was a pause as I struggled to believe even a single word Nolan spoke.
“Will you wait with us?” Chantel asked after a span of silence.
I shook my head. I doubted that there was truth to this fable, but even if it was true, of course I was not ready to leave this world. Yes, I was curious to know what was on the “other side”—if it really even existed—but I wasn’t prepared to move on.
“No,” I replied.
“Then you will continue on your way, to the supernatural realm?”
I stalled. My original intention in going there had been to visit Ernest, but I was put off by that idea now. I’d only thought of him because I’d been desperate, not knowing of any other ghosts’ location. Now that I was here with Chantel and Nolan, I asked the question that I’d been burning to ask all along.
“Is there any way at all to reverse the potion?”
Both Chantel and Nolan were already shaking their heads.
“No,” Chantel said. “That potion is final. There is no way to reconnect with our bodies.”
“Believe us,” Nolan added. “We’ve tried.”
Of course, even if there was a way to reconnect with my body—assuming it hadn’t rotted away or been swiped from that Cruor mountain by now—I couldn’t. Because my heart was infected and the moment I came to life again, I would risk the Elders’ uprising all over again.
Still, I wasn’t ready to give in to the idea that there was no other way for me to live an even half-fulfilling life on Earth. That my only way of future happiness was to “move on”. Perhaps I just had not been a ghost long enough yet—had not been beaten down by the passage of time—but I still had some fire in me. Especially since the discovery that I could inhabit animals.
Clenching my jaw, I accepted their answer with a nod, though internally I was pushing it away with all that I had.
“You’re welcome,” they said together.
The two of them waved before turning around and heading back to the ledge to join the other ghosts.
“Oh, wait,” I called, suddenly remembering something else that had been bugging me since the conversation started. “Why were you hesitant to talk to me at first?”
Nolan’s shoulders sagged. “Because not all ghosts welcome talk of the afterlife. Some, especially those who are newly deceased, become very angry about it.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, thank you again.”
“Good luck, Joseph.”
Ben
After Nolan and Chantel left me, I dove through the portal. Arriving on the other side—on the small island some miles from the shores of The Tavern—I began to ponder what my next move ought to be.
After having had a taste of helpful ghosts like Chantel and Nolan, I was still reluctant to seek out Ernest again, even though he was nearby. Maybe there would be some other ghosts in The Tavern who would be willing to talk.
Chantel and Nolan had been firm in their conclusion that it was not possible for a ghost to return to their previous life—now I wanted more opinions.
And so I drifted into the sky and tried to find my way back to The Tavern. I got lost a bit over the waves but because the island was not far, and with my supernatural speed, I was able to spot its familiar outline soon enough.
I headed straight for the harbor. That seemed to be the most logical place to start. I had time. I figured that I ought to do things as systematically as possible, to make sure that I found every ghost who might be on this island, if there were any other than Ernest. He would be my very last resort.
I searched aboard every single vessel in the harbor, but found no ghosts. It was only as I neared one of the entrances to the main island and passed through the thick oak door that I had a stroke of luck. Slumped next to the ogre who was guarding the entrance was… another ogre. A ghost ogre. His features were similar to the living one next to him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they were related. Perhaps brothers.
I had my reservations about trying to get information from an ogre—they weren’t exactly the most eloquent of sorts—but there was at least one good omen about him: his eyes were open. He wasn’t asleep, and absorbed in some dream like Ernest no doubt would be. The ogre ghost’s eyes widened as he spotted me.
