Ghost Tales of Seattle

Seattle Ghost Story Part 7

                                                                                        Etta

The only thing I could hear besides our cries, was the necromancer's voice. I smelled fragrant smoke, that reminded me of the tea my mother had made when I was sick as a girl. I held myself tight and remembered the feeling of taking deep breaths, the memory of being calm, but it was no use. I could not stop crying.

"When the flesh is gone and the spirit is weak," Genevive chanted, "We call upon each other for preservation."

Her voice was not raised, but Etta could hear her clearly. It almost drowned out the sound of the baby. Her tone was calm and matter of fact. As if she wasn't in a dark hotel with ghosts and shadows.

"I call upon you, Etta, to forget the ills that have been done to you. You are no longer of this world. You need to leave the living to their follies and move on to the next place, the next step, go into the light."

She spoke of light. Etta hadn't seen it. Not when she bled to death on the bed. Not when she realized she was dead. Not when she and the baby cried all night with lungs that never tired. She wished she could find it. She wished the necromancer could show her. It was all that was desirable.

"Nothing keeps you here, but your own will." Genevieve stopped moving and traced out something with the smoking stick. "I have outlined a door. It is up to you to step through it."

Etta raised her eyes and saw the door. It floated in the center of the room. A solid wooden door like the ones in the house where she grew up. She thought she saw light coming from the opening at the bottom.

"All you need to do is will the door open. Leave this world behind. Forget. Forget." Geneive's voice quieted and Etta realized the wailing had stopped. She uncurled and reached a hand toward the door. It opened. The light blinded her. She could do nothing but stand and step through.