Forgotten Lyrics

1. Cellar

Lydia Panning pushed open the door to her grandma’s house, the hinges creaking open with an angry squeak, and tossed her duffel bag on the floor. While Lydia liked to think of herself as a notch above the average college student, she still couldn’t resist bringing her dirty laundry with her whenever she came back from Sundham University.

“Nana?” Lydia called out when Delia didn’t respond to the opening door. “I’m home.”

Delia’s old Mustang was in the driveway, so she knew her grandma was there. Since she still hadn’t answered, Lydia set about poking around the house for her.

The living room was cluttered with antiques, and every time Lydia visited, she swore there were at least five new pieces added to Delia’s extensive collection.

A warped mirror hung on one wall, catching Lydia’s eye. It had a funhouse effect on her face, stretching her elfin nose and small lips into gargantuan proportions. But that’s not what grabbed her attention.

Something just beneath the surface seemed to be moving, almost swimming behind it. Tentatively, she reached out to touch it, and instead of hard glass, it was pliable, like gelatin.

The mirror left her fingertips wet, and white and purple smoke instantly swirled around inside it. Then, suddenly, an androgynous face formed in the mirror, like it was flying at her, with its mouth hanging open wide.

“Hello?” Lydia asked, unruffled by the sight of a wraith forming in a mirror. “Can you speak?”

The face continued to float there for a few seconds, saying nothing, and then disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“I guess not.” Lydia shrugged and dropped her hand. “I’ll try again later.”

After a childhood spent with Delia, she’d gotten used to that kind of thing. Her grandma had taught her that more often than not, specters like that just needed help, and they acted out because nobody noticed them.

No matter how frightening or horrible a monster may seem, Delia believed that nothing was beyond saving.

Lydia stepped away from the mirror, almost stumbling over a spinning wheel behind her. She caught it just before it fell, which was good because Delia would have her hide if she broke another antique.

As she was righting the spinning wheel, Lydia heard a loud thump coming from downstairs, and she scolded herself for not realizing it sooner. Obviously, her grandma would be down in the cellar.

She went out the front door, steeling herself against the chilly April air. The weather was getting warmer, but there was a bite to the wind that blew through her pink sweater.

Around the back of the quaint little blue house was a set of double doors leading down into the cellar. The doors were made of snakewood, which meant that along with having a unique beauty in their marbled grain, they were very strong and impossibly heavy. Delia had chosen them specifically so they would keep the contents of the basement safe.