Chapter 1
The first 4 years of my life, I had never seen a ghost. They were like witches & werewolves, made up to scare misbehaving children. Or so I thought…
My parents took me to my grandparents house so they could watch me while my parents were at work. My grandmother & grandfather lived in an older house, I think it was built in the late 70s or early 80s. There were trees surrounding us on every side. There was a creaky, old, ivory windmill that had paint peeling off.
It was at this windmill (or rather, between its “legs”, where I preferred to play), that I first saw her. I was playing one of my favourite games, “Explorer”, when I spotted a girl who looked to be in her teens.
I thought she looked funny. She was kind-of see-through & had a very pale, powder blue tint over her. I could sort-of tell that she was Native American: her beautiful, long black hair in 2 identical braids, she was wearing a gorgeous leather dress with matching moccasins.
But...something was off. There were silvery splotches all over her, almost like blood.
তততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত
EVERYTHING AFTER THIS POINT IS ENTIRELY FICTIONAL! EVERYTHING BEFORE IS WHAT I VAGUELY REMEMBER FROM MY CHILDHOOD!
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She looked as if she had been murdered in cold blood. The more my young eyes looked, the more horrifying details I discovered.
Her mouth had strange lines, almost like it was sewn shut. Her large, doe eyes had a sort-of crazed look. Even though she looked like she had survived a great ordeal, she was still so beautiful.
I couldn’t help but stand and stare in awe at the girl in front of me. Her scarred mouth slowly opened up, revealing rotten, broken yellow teeth. I was too afraid to move.
Slowly, she began to speak. “You pale faces killed my family. Your ancestors killed me, so you will pay the price.” Her voice sounded like the breath of sweet flutes, dancing through the Swiss Alps. But, at the same time, there was danger and power clear in her tone. She was not someone to be messed with.
.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．
Part of me wanted desperately to recoil in fear and run into the warmth and safety of the house. However, the larger, more dominant part wanted nothing more than to comfort the ghost. I had been so used to caring for other people by then, so it felt ‘wrong’ to not be.
✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧
Something I only realized later (much, much later), was that I could relate to her. People had wronged me constantly. I wished & prayed for some way to get rid of the pain, but received none. I realized this 12 years later.
Now, looking back at age 16, I feel as if this meeting changed me in some way. It shaped who I was to become. No matter how much it hurts me, I always try to help others. I can’t bear to see anyone unhappy.
It’s very necessary for me to take breaks from this though. I tend to give until I don’t have anything left.
✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧༺♥༻✧
Those parts wrestled only for a moment before the caring side won.
.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．
She described the horrors of being forced to watch her family die at 12 years old. She told me the pain and terror she felt as my ancestors held her unbearably tight, and forced her to watch them mercilessly slaughter her entire family, sparing no one. Not even her elderly grandmother or her few-week-old brother.
Her copper-toned face contorted with pain as the memories begin to take hold of her fragile mind. Her cold, black eyes returned to their natural state of a warm, chocolate brown, there were tiny gold flecks shimmering and sparkling as they danced, flawlessly executing an advanced ballet.
The warm pools of liquid earth, the source of fruit and all life on Earth, contorted with pain as she is made to relive her ruthless past. Teal and turquoise crystals fell from her earthen eyes. Though crystals should be sharp and cause pain, these crystals were like liquid. They were soft like the fur on her favourite hunting dog, Little Bear.
I was in awe. This girl, even though she had gone through so much, was so strong and brave. She was letting me, a descendant of her killers (and 4-years-old at that), see her grief and pain. She allowed me to bear witness to her torment. To her suffering.
The girl was on her knees, her dress somehow falling perfectly and settling around her. Liquid diamonds were still flowing from her big, doe eyes like Niagra Falls. Heartbroken sobs wracked her strong frame. I slowly walked over to her, carefully avoiding the sharp thorns that call the forest home. Since she was sitting, I was barely taller than her.
I placed myself next to the weeping ghost, hoping to comfort her. I tried to put my arm around her, but since she was a ghost, it passed right through her. Like a mule, I stubbornly tried once more, to no avail. Frustrated, I slowed myself down and concentrated. When I tried again, I succeeded in putting my small arm around the bigger girl, as though she was solid.
Startled by this kind gesture, the native girl’s head shot up. Confusion dominating her face only for a little, before understanding that I wouldn’t hurt her.
“Thank you…,” she said quietly, “I’m not used to people actually being nice to me.”
I opened my mouth to say something, when she began to glow. Not like a bright electrical light that hurts your eyes, more of a soft firelight. She glowed a soft yellow jasper. The glow quickly became overwhelming.
It disappeared as soon as it started. I shook myself out of my daze, and I realized that she was gone. Where did she go? I thought. Then, I remembered what my grandpa once told me.
I was over at their house, like I was most days of the week. My grandfather often captured my attention with his tales of Native Americans and their culture. I would often ask about their beliefs about the afterlife.
One day, when I asked my grandfather again about their beliefs, he said, “Well Sarah, one thing I do know about the tribe that lived around here in the 1760s, is that they believed a person’s spirit was freed from their mortal bodies. If a spirit has unfinished business, then they stay on this Earth. Once their business is complete, they start to glow, before disappearing from our world to join their ancestors.”
The Native American girl had gone home at last. Somehow, I had helped her heal from what she’d been through, enabling her to finally move on.
