Words

Albir Elderberry of Farwood

Father reminded me three times today that General Lauphinstok and his daughter Ariella are arriving at the end of the week. I received an hour and a half lecture on how I was to behave.

Last night I dreamt of my ghost.
I could hear her footsteps traveling back and forth past my bedchamber door. They were light steps, but I could instinctively tell they were agitated. Without even thinking, I got up out of bed and crossed the room.
There she sat, down the hall, hunched over. Her dark hair spilled over her knees, and she was hugging her stomach. She appeared as if she were in terrible pain.
For what purpose, I'd no idea, but I knew she needed help. I quietly crept closer to her, and she looked up quickly, a terrified expression on her pale face. Her large, wide-set eyes were glossy with tears. I could tell her jaw was clenched tight against the pain.
Quite carefully and comparatively easily, I lifted her up in my arms and carried her down the hall. She lay completely still. It occurred to me to be surprised that she was, in fact, substantial; that I could indeed lift and carry her just as I could a human girl. It didn't directly puzzle me, and I didn't really bother to wonder about it until later.
To a small room with a large couch I carried my ghost girl, though I hardly seemed to pay any attention to which direction I turned, which corner, which hallway. Perhaps I was only drawn by any light that succeeded to guide my footsteps. It really was strange; so dreamlike, and yet, I remember everything so clearly and so detailed.
Without protest, she permitted herself to be lain on the couch. She no longer clutched at her stomach. She looked relatively calm and easy. She simply lay on the couch, gazing up at me. I don't know if I even wondered what I was to do next. The look in this ghost's face seemed to impart to me that I had done all that was needed. So I knelt down and remained where I was, now and again reaching out to stroke her hair and allowing her to gaze at me as she did.
Then that strange dream was broken, and I seemed to awaken from a stupor. I had been sitting beside an empty couch, my arm propped up, and my head resting heavily against my arm. Hazy, pale morning light filled the room.
When I finally awoke, exhausted and bewildered, I was in my own bed. And I was cold.

I was chastised for falling into a dead sleep during an ongoing lecture from Uncle on parliament history. I am afraid Uncle does not hold out much hope for me. He seems to grow increasingly wearier every day. Hmph. My failure to digest the knowledge daily bestowed on me only makes Father angrier.

And so I wonder now if my duties are done. It seems such a simple thing. Nothing, really. I had expected a burdensome task from this ghost girl, something that deserved the term unfinished business. And it was all done in a dream.
It does not feel like it is over.