I stared into the dark passage and shuddered as a sensation of fear cut through me with jagged teeth, leaving my soul torn open, doubt infecting the wound.
“Lily, are you crazy?” I said to myself. “How many times are you gonna do this? There could be dark-eyes down here waiting to destroy anyone within their reach.”
A noise trickled out of the gloom, the click-clack of tiny claws on stone. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was gravestone dry. A squeak added to the click-clack, and a mouse scurried by. I realized I’d been holding my breath and exhaled, then breathed normally. Of course, I didn’t need to breathe, after all, I was a ghost and didn’t need air. However, our minds had other ideas. We still did some of the involuntary things our bodies were used to doing, like breathing, sweating, heart beating . . . Our minds, or maybe our souls, made our bodies do these things even though we lived in the Land of the Dead.
A hoarse moan crawled through the darkness. The sound was like the agonized utterance of someone whose life had become a source of misery and despair.
That’s who I’m looking for, I thought, one of the Hopeless. I called them that, the Hopeless. They were the ghosts stuck down here in the catacombs under Salem, anguish and sorrow keeping them trapped in the darkness.
“Hello.” I walked forward, rats scrambling away on clicking feet, tiny red eyes watching me as they fled.
Somehow, animals could see ghosts while the Living could not.
“I’m here to help.” The darkness of the long tunnel swallowed my words like a whale devouring a school of fish. “Can you tell me your name?”
A silence sat heavily on the passage, like the dread from a distant nightmare. I continued forward, my all-white eyes searching the inky-black gloom for the suffering ghost. Had I failed? Was I too late?
Another moan drifted through the tunnel, this time a little louder; I was getting close.
“Can you tell me your name or something about yourself? As I said before, my name is Lily, and I died when I was thirteen years old. How old were you?”
“Seventy . . . four.”
The ghost’s words sounded drawn out, more groan than speech, but I knew I was getting closer.
I had to keep the ghost talking. Ghosts who suffered from hopelessness and despair found themselves drawn to the catacombs under Salem. Most wallowed in the darkness, brooding over their deaths. Those who stay down here too long often fade away and become burnt-shadows, the last morsel of their emotional energy staining the ground. That was the final step before being pulled into an eternal darkness of anguish and misery . . . the Void. My mom used to say, ‘Focusing on the negative gives air to your worries and brings them to life. Suffocate them by embracing the positive. You cannot see a blue sky while keeping your eyes down, watching the ground.’
I had to help this ghost before it was too late. I must get them to see the great things about being a ghost.
“What’s your name, friend? As I said, my name is Lily.”
“Philll . . . lllip,” the ghost whimpered.
He was so close. “Hi, Phillip. I’m here to help you.”
I moved carefully forward, not wanting to step on him. Cobwebs that hung invisible in the darkness passed through my head as I walked. I shook as a chill enveloped the inside of my skull . . . I hated going through things.
After another step, I saw him. The ghost sat on the ground, his back against the rough-hewn walls. His body looked withered and deflated like an orange left too long in the sun. His skin showed the color of an abandoned campfire, ashen black and barely visible. A faint red aura hovered around his head, but the hue looked wrong as if it were diseased and about to perish; he was close to becoming a burnt-shadow. I had to act fast.
Kneeling, I grasped his hand. His fingers inflated just a bit, my touch bringing the faintest echo of hope.
“It’s time for you to leave this place,” I said.
“I had children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren,” Phillip whispered, his words barely audible.
“I’m sure they brought you great joy.” I squeezed his fingers, then placed my right hand on his shoulder. His withered flesh cast off the dark tint for just a moment. “I know of a group of ghosts who will help you find them. Would you like to see your great-grandchildren, or maybe your great-great-grandchildren?”
“I am alone and stranded down here.” Phillip turned his gaze to me, his white eyes almost invisible. He extended his hands. “This is my world now, my punishment for something I must have done in the Land of the Living.”
“No, this is not your world . . . that’s up there.” I pointed at the ceiling. “I can take you there, but you have to do something for me first.”
“Do what?” The squeak of distant mice nearly drowned out his soft words.
“You must try.” I focused my eyes on him and refused to look away. “Think about seeing your family. Do you want to watch your great-great-great-grandchildren grow up?”
Phillip brought his eyes to mine and gave me a subtle nod.
“Great . . . then stand up.” I grabbed both his hand and helped him to his feet.
“We’re going to float up through the ceiling, pass through the earth above us and emerge onto the surface.” I squeezed both hands. “Are you ready?”
“But . . .”
“But what?”
The ghost sighed. “That’s impossible. I don’t have enough emotional energy to do that. I’m an empty husk, a hollow shell of a man with nothing inside other than regret. I can’t do it.”
“No more excuses. Brooding on your sorrows only brings them to life. Stop focusing on everything bad and instead concentrate on what it will feel like with sunlight on your skin and your fellow ghosts welcoming you with love and kindness. It’s time for you to embrace this next phase in your existence, but with hope instead of despair. I’ll give you the energy you need.”
“You can’t give me your—”
Before Phillip could finish the sentence, I closed my eyes, concentrated, and sent my emotional energy into the ghost. Without seeing it, I knew my blue aura shrank a little. I glanced at Phillip and saw a sapphire glow enveloping the ancient ghost’s gray head, my energy merging with his. The withered body of the old ghost filled in, inflating with every morsel of my energy. His skin shed the ashen-gray tone and took on the pale color all spirits had.
Phillip glanced down at his arms, confused. “You’re giving me your energy . . . why.”
I smiled. “It’s time . . . ready.”
Phillip nodded.
“Okay. Close your eyes, and don’t let go.”
I squeezed his hands tight, closed my eyes, then imagined myself rising. We floated upward slowly. A chill pressed down through my head, then moved through the rest of my body; we were passing through the ceiling of the catacomb and into the earth above. A biting chill enveloped me, icicles of pain stabbing at every nerve. I shook uncontrollably as the unforgiving cold of moving through the Earth gripped me.
Phillip’s grip weakened a bit. You can’t let go. You’ll end up stuck here, forever, I thought. I squeezed his hands harder, refusing to let him slip from my grasp. His hands trembled, the shaking growing worse.
One hand slipped free.
I tried to grab it but couldn’t see anything other than dirt and rock.
Phillip’s other hand slipped. I wanted to get a better grasp but didn’t dare let go. I moved my free hand and grabbed hold of Phillip’s wrist in a chilling motion. The cold was worsening, stabbing icicles turned into frozen daggers. The pain wrapped around us like a blanket of icy thorns. It was almost too much to bear when . . .
We emerged into sunlight, the cold draining from our bodies in an ecstasy of warmth. I stared up at the sky, blue stretching from horizon to horizon. Usually, ghosts preferred clouds to a blue sky, the brilliant color reminding us of things we’ve lost when we passed into the Land of the Dead, but compared to the catacombs, this was utter joy.
I let go of Phillip’s hand and turned toward him.
“We’re here,” I said with a smile. “Are you okay?”
Phillip didn’t answer; he just looked around in wonder. The blue from my emotional energy mixed with the glowing red of his aura, adding stripes of color to his ruby halo. Reaching his hands up into the air, he tried to grip the sky, a look of wonder on his pale face. Phillip finally brought his gaze to me and smiled.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what?” I didn’t understand.
“Why did you go into the catacombs, find me, and give up some of your emotional energy to save me?” Phillip moved a step closer. “You gain nothing by doing that. In fact, you lose energy, making it harder for you to cross over and see what comes next. Why?”
I shrugged. “I guess . . . because I could. My father taught me it was an honor to help someone whether or not they asked for it. Helping someone is its own reward. Besides, I’ll probably never be able to cross over; a ghost must be worthy for that to happen. I’m a nobody.” I pointed to a group of ghosts heading toward us. “They’ll help you find your family if they’re still in Salem. No matter what happens, you’ll never be alone again.”
“But how do I thank you,” Phillip said. “What can I ever say that will express my gratitude for what you’ve done for me?”
The ghosts waved at Phillip, shouting their welcome. For a moment, I was jealous. Phillip now had a community of spirits he could call his friends; that was something I didn’t have. I knew I could stand there and meet these ghosts, but what if they noticed I wasn’t special? They’d reject me. I don’t know if I could handle that.
It didn’t matter, for I had my purpose . . . helping the Hopeless.
“Phillip, live a good ghost-life and find an opportunity to help another ghost, not because you must, but because you can; that’s how you can thank me for what I’ve done for you.” I glanced at another group of ghosts leaving an old church and heading toward us. They waved, but it wasn’t clear who they were waving at, Phillip or me. One ghost looked familiar to me. She had a green aura which billowed like a cloud around her head, but streaks of blue dove through the halo, swirling about in all directions as if alive . . . strange.
Not wanting to feel the sting of rejection when all these ghosts embraced Phillip and ignored me, I closed my eyes and focused on the catacombs. In an instant, I teleported back into the darkness. I wasn’t sure if that was going to work. Ghosts need a lot of emotional energy to teleport, and I’d been giving my energy to the Hopeless to help bring them out of the darkness.
The drip-drip-drip of water echoed through the dreary passage, punctuating the silence. I moved along the tunnel, the uneven ground trying to grab at my heels and cause me to stumble, but I’d been in these dark catacombs hundreds of times and was accustomed to this.
“Is someone there?” The words sounded strained as if speaking them brought the owner pain.
“My name is Lily,” I said. I knew the importance of getting the Hopeless to talk. If we could have a conversation, it would lead to trust and eventually escape. “What is your name?”
“My name?” The ghost grew silent; that wasn’t a good sign.
I walked faster, my eyes scanning the dark passage for anything that would reveal the presence of the Hopeless.
“What did you say?” I asked.
I hope they didn’t lose their energy and turn into a burnt-shadow, I thought. I’d seen that happen too many times.
“My name . . . I haven’t heard it spoken for so long.” The voice was getting weaker.
“That’s okay.” I started running, nervous sweat trickling down the back of my neck. “I’m good at finding things. I’ll help you find your name . . . you just need to keep talking.”
“Talking, why? I’ve been hiding down here for so long.” The ghost coughed. “There’s no one out there for me. I’m alone.”
“No, you aren’t.” I curved around a support beam holding up the ceiling. My shoulder brushed through the wood, giving me a quick chill. “I know of countless ghosts who would like to call you friend. Just don’t give up. To become part of a community, you have to try; nothing is for free.”
Just then, I saw the Hopeless. She sat on the ground, her clothing from the early 1800s, but her skin had the ashen gray hue of someone struggling to stay out of the Void. Her white eyes seemed unusually bright for a Hopeless, but her faded aura told me she was in trouble. It was colored a soft pink, like cotton candy, but with streaks of blue weaving in and out. The halo looked faint, which meant she had almost no emotional energy. I quickly knelt at her side and took her hand.
“Hello,” I said as I stared into her eyes. “I’m here to help you.” I pointed to the ceiling. “Up on the surface, groups of ghosts live together in peace. They would gladly welcome you with friendship. Staying down here serves no purpose.”
“But why should I try to be part of their community? They might reject me.”
I squeezed her hand, then gripped the other and helped her to her feet. “You can’t just give up. Staying down here in the catacombs is a sure path to the Void. Up above, you can be with other ghosts, and your emotional energy will grow until you can finally cross over.”
The Hopeless lowered her gaze to the ground. “I don’t know. Maybe I don’t deserve to cross over.”
“Don’t be silly. Everyone deserves to cross over. You just have to wait until you’ve learned what you need to learn in the Land of the Dead. When your emotional energy grows strong enough, you’ll be ready to cross over; you’ll know when it’s time. But it will only happen if you refuse to give in to negative thoughts and focus on the positive.”
“Positive . . . what positive thing can I focus on down here?”
“How about me helping you get out of here?”
The ghost raised her white eyes and stared at me. “You’d help me?”
“Of course.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “Just close your eyes, hold my hands, and let me do the rest.”
The ghost nodded as a wry smile crept across her face. She closed her eyes; then, I did the same. Concentrating, I tried to send her some of my energy, but the strangest thing happened. Instead, she gave me some of her energy. Before I could ask what happened, we rose upward, shooting through dirt and stone as we sped toward the surface faster than I’d ever ascended before. Confused thoughts rushed through my mind as I tried to understand what had just occurred.
In seconds, we reached the surface.
Slowly, I opened my eyes and found the Hopeless staring at me, her skin the normal pale-white of a ghost, a pink aura glowing brightly around her head, the blue streaks now gone.
“What happened?” I asked.
She chuckled, then pointed behind me. As I turned, I saw ghosts stream out from the nearby house or from behind trees, each with a massive smile on their face. I spotted Phillip holding hands with an older woman, their auras both rosy-red, blue streaks floating about the edges. Every ghost boasted a different hue. It was a kaleidoscope of colors, the greens, yellows, purples, oranges . . . every shade imaginable but with one similarity; they all had streaks of blue in their auras.
A hand settled on my shoulder. I turned and faced the Hopeless I’d just saved.
“I’m sorry I had to deceive you, but I wasn’t trapped down there. It was the only way I could find you.”
“You mean you weren’t a Hopeless?”
She shook her head. “No. Some of what I said down there was a lie. I deceived you by pulling in my energy to make my aura look weak. I also know my name, and it is something we all believe you need.”
Confusion settled into my mind. We all believe you need . . . what’s going on?
The ghosts crowded around me. I couldn’t count their number, maybe hundreds. They stood close, each with a huge smile on their face.
“Do you recognize any of us?” Phillip asked.
“Well, of course, I recognize you and . . . wait . . . I brought you out of the catacombs last week.” I pointed to a young woman with long hair. “And you . . . Isaac, you died when your whaling vessel sank. I brought you up last year.”
Isaac nodded, his smile growing bigger.
“And you,” I pointed to another ghost. “Margaret, I rescued you a month ago. And you . . .” I stopped speaking, realizing all these ghosts had been Hopeless whom I brought up from the catacombs. “I saved all of you.”
The ghosts nodded.
“You saved us all expecting no thanks,” the spirit who had deceived me said, “yet you kept yourself separate from the community of ghosts. You live a solitary life because you don’t think yourself special enough for others to accept you.”
“Well . . .” I tried to object but had nothing to say.
“You saved all of us with your selfless act by giving us your emotional energy, yet you think yourself unworthy of every crossing over,” the ghost said.
“Umm . . . I guess I . . .” Words eluded me.
“It’s time we proved you wrong, Lily.” The ghost took a step closer. “I told you my name was something you needed.”
I nodded but was still confused.
“My name is Faith, and that is something you need in yourself,” she said.
Faith turned and nodded to the other ghosts. Those closest reached out and set a hand on her shoulder, arm, or back. They closed their eyes and concentrated, then sent the borrowed energy back to me. The blue streaks of color floated out of the ghosts’ auras, moved down their arms, and flowed into my chest. When it was complete, they stepped back and let the next group get within arm’s length. More energy flowed from the rescued and into their rescuer. I could feel my aura growing bigger and brighter.
Ghosts crowded in, each excited about returning the sliver of energy that had likely saved their lives. With each splash of blue, my aura morphed into a magnificent halo, the color making the clear sky overhead seem pathetic.
When the last of the ghosts deposited their borrowed energy, something strange happened. My aura exploded, sending shafts of fluorescent blue in all directions, leaving behind a brilliant, white halo of light stretching up into the sky.
More ghosts emerged from the nearby houses to watch and enjoy the moment.
I glanced around, uncertain what was happening. A lightness filled me, making me want to giggle with joy and wonder. I spotted a group of ghosts with one of the Living at their side. A glow came from the living girl’s chest as if she’d hidden a brilliant star there. For some reason, I knew that girl could see me.
Faith moved to my side and whispered in my ear. “You’ve saved hundreds from the Void, but your work is done. It’s time for you to cross over.”
“What?” I asked.
Faith nodded. “Just let go. I know that’s difficult for you, but we both know it’s time.” She stepped back and clasped her hands to her chest.
I stared up at my aura. Its whiteness seemed to reach down, wrap gentle fingers around me, and then lift me off the ground. A feeling of overwhelming joy filled my soul, and by the looks on the faces of the ghosts around me, the emotion touched them as well.
Releasing my doubts, I let my aura carry me upward as I dissolved into the cloud of energy until I saw . . .
Faith was the first to clap, then the rest of the ghosts cheered.
“She made it,” Phillip said.
“I knew she could do it.” Faith smiled and put a hand on Phillip’s shoulder. “Now, let’s find your family.”
The ghosts turned with a lightness in their step as the joyous echo still reverberated within them, then went back to their ghostly lives.