I’m Barnaby Millant, and I’m a ghost. Not one of those chain rattling types whose only purpose is to terrify the living, no, I’m just your ordinary ghost who’s trying to live my life, or whatever you call this, without any trouble. I woke up this morning and thought today would be like every other day in the Spirit World . . . boy, was I wrong. Let me tell you what happened:
I walked into the dining room and stared at the volume of food before me: cakes, candies, vegetables, and mounds of meats.
“This is probably more than I’ve ever seen in my short and starved existence,” I said to no one.
For most of my life, I was hungry. Da went off to fight in the Civil War and never returned. Ma struggled to get enough money to feed us, but many times she wasn’t successful. I don’t remember how many nights we went to bed hungry. I used to go out onto the streets of Boston and beg. Sometimes, people would give me money while others would give me scraps of food. I’d gobble up the biscuits or pieces of meat instantly, then continue begging. Sometimes, I came home empty-handed, but at least I had something in my stomach.
I reached out to poke my finger into the frosting of one of the cakes but stopped and scowled at the food. It was all a cruel joke, and I hated it. You see, I’m dead and I’m a ghost. Unfortunately, ghosts cannot taste, and we can’t eat. In fact, it would take every ounce of my strength for me to lift the smallest asparagus spear. I’d been a ghost for, I don’t know, maybe a hundred years or more (it’s hard to keep track of time in the Spirit World), and this table of food appears here every morning. It felt like a sick joke meant to punish me . . . it worked.
“What I wouldn’t give for a bite of anything.” I clenched a fist and shook it at the table, then turned and walked out of the replica of my childhood home.
Thick green grass covered the ground all around the house, with flowers along the edge of the brick walkway. No fragrances wafted up from the colorful petals or the thick grass. No aromas drifted about on the breeze. It was if I didn’t have a nose, but I knew that wasn’t the case. Not only can we not taste, but we can’t smell either.
I hated the bright colors. They reminded me of what I had when I was alive but never appreciated. Now, the daisies, daffodils, and lilacs just mocked me. Sometimes, I wished everything was in black and white; that would make coping with being dead so much easier.
Looking away from the flowers, I walked down the path, putting my house to my back. I went maybe a hundred yards down the trail. The walkway wove around tall oaks and maples, the trees standing tall and majestic, like silent sentinels guarding the land. Their leaves never changed color because the Spirit World doesn’t have seasons. Ahead of me stood the edge of my world.
Ghosts create their own reality when they come to the spirit world. I think our worlds draw their existence from our imaginations and our memories, but somehow a little of mocking justice gets thrown in as well . . . like all that food. My reality stretched to this shimmering barrier where it ends. I pressed my nose to the undulating wall. It felt like putting my face in warm water. I kept pushing my head forward until it popped through. Before me, thousands of reality bubbles bounced against each other, a different world trapped within each transparent shell.
“Today, I’m doing it.”
I’ve always thought about leaving my reality and looking into the others, but fear kept me here. But today, I wanted to feel something different.
Carefully, I dragged the rest of my body through the barrier and into the empty space between bubbles. My bare feet landed on a featureless black surface. It felt cold, like a window on a chilly autumn night. Goosebumps prickled the back of my arms as the frigid temperature seeped into my ghostly body. I turned in a circle, taking in all the surrounding realities. Each world gleamed with swirling colors, like giant soap bubbles refusing to pop.
I moved to the nearest one and pressed my face to the shell. Darkness filled the inside, leafless trees standing at attention along an uneven walkway, their branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky.
“This must be the world of an angry ghost.” I pulled back and headed in another direction.
Light blossomed in the next bubble, a gingerbread house out of a fairy tale sitting in the center of a clearing. I stepped through the wall. Instantly, a warm breeze whispered in my ear, its pleasant touch caressing my skin and gently coaxing the goosebumps to recede.
In front of the gingerbread house, a tall boy sat atop what looked like a giant marshmallow, his feet dangling in a rippling pool of water. I waved and headed toward him.
“Hi, I’m Barnaby.” I gave him my best smile.
He stood and returned the grin, his eyes completely white as chalk. “I’m Wallace. I haven’t met someone new for a while because . . . you know.”
I shrugged, then moved to his side and sat on a gigantic gumdrop. I dangled my feet in the pond and smiled as I wiggled my toes in the cool water.
“You look like you’re the same age as me,” I said. “How old were you when you died?”
“I was thirteen years old.”
“Me too.”
Wallace smiled, then held his hand up in the air as if expecting me to do something.
I shrugged again. “What?”
“High-five.”
“High what?”
Wallace grabbed my hand and held it up, then slapped it with his hand. “That’s a high-five. You do that when you are happy, or you agree with someone, or . . . I don’t know . . . there are lots of reasons to do a high-five.”
“We didn’t do that when I was alive.” I glanced back at his house, then turned back to Wallace. “This is my first time outside of my bubble and . . . What were you saying before the high-five? Why haven’t you seen any new people?”
“The Judge is prowling around, looking for witches.” Wallace lowered his voice as if afraid someone might hear. “I talked to another ghost who said the Judge is crazy. He thinks there are witches throughout the spirit world. Judge Stoughton has made it his duty to find them and send them to the Void.”
“The Void?”
Wallace laughed. “You know nothing about being a ghost, do you?”
I shook my head. “As I said, I just came out of my bubble. I died during the Civil War and have been here ever since.”
“Wow, that’s like over a hundred and fifty years ago.” Wallace patted me on the back, then grabbed my gumdrop and pulled it closer. “Here’s what you need to know. First, you have a certain amount of emotional energy. While you’re in the spirit world, or if you’re lucky enough to make it to the physical world, you need to learn about whatever emotion you lacked while you were alive. The more you learn, the more emotional energy you have. If you get enough, you can cross over to whatever comes next.”
“What does come next?” I asked.
Wallace shrugged. “No one knows. Maybe you get reincarnated, or you become something else, or maybe nothing happens and you just disappear forever. It’s an act of faith to cross over. I saw one ghost do it a few years ago . . . it was pretty cool to see.”
“That sounds a little scary.” I pulled strands of blond black hair from my face and tucked them behind an ear.
“The thing is, other ghosts can take your energy from you if they are strong enough. If they take all of your energy, you’ll wither and become a shadow on the ground. I heard some calling it becoming a burnt- shadow, for some reason. Apparently, your shadow stays there for a day or two, then you just fade away, and your spirit appears in the Void. They say the Void is a world of eternal darkness and perpetual suffering; not a place you want to go.”
“Sounds like it.”
“If you see someone trying to take another ghost’s emotional energy, you must help; that’s what keeps the evil ghosts from doing it. They know everyone will jump in and stop them.”
“Got it.” I nodded. “But why does—”
A strange sensation crawled across my skin. It felt like something cold and damp had just brushed against my flesh; it was revolting.
“Something just came into my world,” Wallace whispered. “Did you feel the ripple of their evil taint?” He stood and glanced around. “We gotta get out of here. Follow me.”
I stood and looked around. My stomach churned a little as it did when I used to get afraid. I’m definitely scared now.
Moving next to me, Wallace whispered in my ear. “When I say so, run fast and quiet.”
“Okay.” I wiped my feet on the ground, hoping to get all the water off them.
Just then, a dark cloud seemed to envelop the back of the gingerbread house.
“Now . . . run!”
We ran from the house, heading for the closest edge of his reality bubble. Behind us, we heard something crashing through the candy house, the ghosts choosing to go straight through rather than go around.
I heard the glass window on the front of the house shatter, then a deep, scratchy voice filled the air. “I see both of you running away as if you are guilty. My name is William Stoughton, Chief Judge of the Salem Witch Trials. With my authority, I convict you two of the crime of being witches. Stop running, and your punishment will be quick. Continue to flee, and my ghosts will make you suffer.”
Hot, spikey fear stabbed at my soul. Sweat trickled down my face (I never knew ghosts could sweat until right then). The beads of moisture flowed down my cheeks and found my mouth. I knew it should taste salty, but it was like nothing.
I didn’t wait to hear what Wallace wanted to do. With all my speed, I sprinted for the edge of his reality bubble and dove through. The cold, black ground knocked the wind out of me when I landed. I stood, but Wallace smashed into my back, knocking me down again.
We stood and looked back. A large ghost with long gray hair and nightmare-black eyes stormed across Wallace’s reality, his boots leaving charred footprints in the lush grass. A group of shadowy ghosts followed behind, all with the same charcoal eyes.
“What are they?” I asked, my voice shaking with fear.
“They’re called dark-eyes. The anger and hatred they brought with them to the Spirit World has grown within them until now they’re consumed with evil.” Wallace looked at me. “We need a plan.”
“I have an idea . . . RUN!”
I took off, weaving between bubbles of reality, Wallace a step behind. I didn’t want this Stoughton guy to see which bubble we entered, so I squeezed between realities until we found something bright and cluttered. And then I saw it—a world with a dense forest of birch trees surrounding a tall castle.
“Come on, Wallace, follow me.” I ran toward the shimmering barrier, going as fast as I could.
“YOU CANNOT ESCAPE MY JUSTICE,” the Chief Judge bellowed. His words were like jagged blades, cutting into my courage and leaving behind doubt and fear.
I reached the edge of the world and dove. My body passes through the glistening barrier as if I were moving through a thin layer of water. When I hit the ground, I rolled once then tumbled to a stop. Wallace landed next to me, his pale skin almost entirely white. He was just as terrified as me.
We stood and moved behind a cluster of birches. Hopefully, our pale bodies merged with the flakey white bark of the trees.
“I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE,” the Judge screamed.
“How did he see us?” I glanced at my friend, my hands shaking. I clenched them, trying to still the shudders, but fear ruled my body.
Wallace shrugged. “Maybe he can sense us?”
“There might be more dark-eyes around that we didn’t see.” I turned away from the barrier and faced the spires of the distant castle. “We gotta hide.”
I took off running, curving around birch trees, and jumping over leafy ferns. The trees finally parted, revealing the medieval castle complete with a drawbridge, fortified wall, and pointed towers. In front of the castle sat what looked like a family having a picnic. Food lay on blankets, but none of the ghosts ate. (We never get hungry and can’t taste anything, so what’s the point.)
It was a beautiful scene: a brother and sister, probably twins, chasing each other, their parents smiling as they watched. This was a completely different reality from mine. Everything here was joy and happiness, while my reality had seemed almost like a punishment.
“Why is this world so . . . wonderful and content?” I asked Wallace.
We slowed to a walk and approached the family.
“When we die, we bring with us our faults and sins. Our realities reflect our living selves. I was a glutton for candy and sweets to the extreme. My reality was a gingerbread house complete with candy bushes, marshmallow rocks, and sugar snow, that is when it snows. I never really thought about it before, but I should have eaten sweets in moderation. I probably would have enjoyed them more, but instead, I ate candies all the time, shoving handfuls into my mouth. That’s why I choked and ended up here. I couldn’t control the urge to eat them.” He paused and grew solemn.
I nodded, then understood. The food I found when I was begging should have been saved for the entire family, but instead, I ate it and claimed I found nothing. I was selfish and afraid I’d starve. Never did I give a thought to Ma or my siblings.
The ground shook.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Wallace glanced back the way we came. No sigh of the dark-eyes . . . yet.
We reached the family, their welcoming smiles making us feel instantly at home.
“Dark-eyes are coming,” I said, my words coming out rapid-fire, like machine-gun bullets. “Get inside your castle and bar the gates.”
“Dark-eyes?” The father stood, his white on white eyes now creased with worry. “Kids . . . inside the castle just like we practiced.”
The kids turned and ran for the drawbridge, the father three steps behind them.
The mother turned to us. “Come, you can hide with us.”
I thought about all the times I betrayed my family and shook my head. “No. Our presence will only put you in danger. Close the gates and put out all the lights. The dark-eyes will follow us.”
The whole world shuddered, and a sensation of evil seeped across the land. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as goosebumps crawled down my spine.
I glanced at Wallace. “The Judge, he’s here. We must lead them away from this family.”
He nodded, then ran, heading to the left of the castle. We sprinted through the forest, low-hanging branches whipping us in the face. We ran at break-neck speeds, fallen branches and roots grasping at our ankles and trying to bring us down, but we kept running, terror driving us forward.
The ground shuddered again, but it wasn’t an evil kind of shudder. Instead, it felt the opposite, almost as if it were a welcoming thing, like someone knocking the dust off themselves before giving another an enormous hug. We didn’t care where we were running. Our main goal was to get as far away from the castle as possible.
Just then, the forest ended, but we hadn’t reached the bubble’s end yet. Instead, we found ourselves at the edge of a cliff, a gaping chasm stretching out before us. I peered over the edge of the precipice but couldn’t see the bottom. It’s as if the thing went on forever.
A sound trickled up from the darkness, a honking noise fluttering up from the shadows. Following it were voices, thousands of voices, some laughing while others just spoke unintelligible words.
“What is this?” I asked.
Footsteps pounded the ground behind us; they were getting closer.
“I think this is the Leap of Faith.” Wallace glanced at me and smiled.
“What are you talking about?”
“These bubbles of reality are not the only place ghosts can exist. Many of us exist in the physical world as well.”
“You mean like ghosts in a haunted house?” I asked.
“Not necessarily haunting something, the dark-eyes do that if they can get to Earth.” He put a hand on my arm. “We can go to the physical world. The lessons we needed to learn, we must have figured them out. Now, we can take the Leap and go to the real world.”
“But what if it doesn’t lead to the physical world? What if it goes to that terrible place of darkness?”
“You mean the Void?” Wallace asked.
I nodded.
“That’s why they call it the Leap of Faith.”
The forest started encroaching on the edges of the chasm, the gaping hole before us slowly closing in.
“I think we must do this together. The Leap of Faith presented itself to us at the same time.” Wallace swallowed nervously, then glanced over his shoulder. Angry voices were drawing near. He reached out and took my hand. “Are you ready?”
“But what if . . .”
“We have to decide,” Wallace said. “We either keep running, and eventually they’ll catch us, or we jump.”
I glanced back at the soaring spires of the castle and thought about those two young ghost-children.
They were living their lives in a bubble of peace and joy, I thought. If I keep running, the black-eyes will follow, and more people will suffer. I can’t just think of myself, not again.
I turned to Wallace and smiled. “Let’s do it.”
“Ready? One . . . two . . . three!”
We jumped.
Falling . . .
Falling . . .
Falling . . .
Falling . . .
Falling . . .
Falling . . .
Thud. I landed face first in a field of dry weeds. Dirt covered my face, and bristly plants scratched at my skin. Turning my head, I saw Wallace next to me, a bright green glowing enveloping him like an emerald cocoon. Slowly, he turned over and sat up, then extended his arms and laughed. I have to tell you; I was pretty confused.
I followed Wallace’s example and sat up as well . . . then I saw them . . . people. They weren’t ghosts or dark-eyes or the terrible Judge Stoughton. Moving along a walkway at the edge of the field were people, a lot of people.
We made it. The Leap of Faith didn’t lead to a terrible existence in the Void, it led us here . . . back home . . . Earth. I breathed a sigh of relief, stood, and looked for someone I could help. The days of me thinking about myself were over. It was time to give instead of take.
One girl on the sidewalk stopped and turned toward me. She wore all black, and her long black hair looked like a river of coal, shining in the bright sunlight. A faint glow leaked out of her as if a candle flickered within her heart, and nothing could stop that light from seeping out, not even those dark clothes.
“She’s the one,” I whispered to myself. “She’s the one I’m going to help.”
I walked toward her, Wallace a few feet behind. He stayed with me for a couple more steps, then turned and headed along his own path. I stopped when I reached the sidewalk, hoping I wouldn’t scare her.
“Hi, I’m Lizzy,” she said with a smile.
I must have looked surprised.
“Yes, I can see you.” The girl flung her hair over one shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Barnaby Millant.”
“Nice to meet you, Barnaby. I’d shake your hand, but we would just pass through each other.” She smiled again. “Come on, let me show you my room.”
“Okay.” I went with her, a feeling that I hadn’t felt for such a long time filling my soul.
“You look happy,” Lizzy said.
I nodded, then laughed as joyful tears tumbled down my cheeks.