Perfect Beautiful Rainbow Sandals

((Content Warning: Death of a Child))

There is the ghost of an eight-year-old girl who lives in my attic.

Not everyone who is haunted knows who haunts them and why. But I do.

Dear reader - let me tell you. I know.

And she is most certainly upset with me.

My ghost has blond ponytails and wears a pink Hello Kitty shirt. She has little jean shorts that go up to her bellybutton. Her fingernail polish is neon colored and chipping away, and her skinny, broken matchstick legs – toes pointing in different directions – are period punctuated with perfect, beautiful rainbow sandals.

She looks exactly how I remember her. From back then. When we were both little. Back when she was living.

The only difference now is the brain-matter that is crusted in her hair. It looks like gray Jello. And I know it contained the essence of who she was. Held her thoughts. Held her memories, but I don’t like to look at it. It makes me gag a little. I try to maintain eye contact and smile.

Her eyes are still green, but she never smiles back.

Also, her right arm has been shredded a bit and her left arm hangs limp from her broken shoulder. All these injuries are the result of the “accident”.

WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?

You don’t THINK it was an accident? Because I told you that she is upset with me? How little you know, dear reader. My best friend has been up there for many years. That dark, dank space at the top of my house. The one you climb into from the hole in the ceiling.

She won’t leave. She can’t.

DON’T JUDGE ME!!!

Besides, I put toys up there for her. All of her dolls and their clothes are there. The little tea set with the chipped cups and brown pot. Even the race car track that she said she didn’t like but played with constantly.

I hear it. I hear those cars racing around that track. After she opens the trunk and puts the dolls away and drags that dead crooked leg back to the other side of the room. The rolling noises the cars make sound like cats screeching in agony. I think she does it to remind me she is there.

As. If. I. Don’t. Remember.

Dear reader, do not think me heartless for taking her toys from her parents. Those people were so sad and broken and could not look at her belongings. They were collecting dust, and she was so bored and noisy without them. I could hardly STAND the groaning. Pillow over my head trying to block out the bellowing sound of anguish – anguish only I could hear. My music too loud. My TV turned up. I had to leave all the time just so I could get away. The screaming was unbearable. ((Sigh))

I do find her to be a bit of trouble. Even now that I am older, there are only so many doll outfits and brushes and race cars one can buy. She has quite enough already. Good grief.

STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE THAT! I AM TRYING!

Besides, it wasn’t only MY idea to go up on that bridge. She agreed! She told me she was into it. The recipe for the magic spell we found in the book from the library said we needed to be up high – and the bridge is the highest! We spent so much time planning it. Collecting what we needed.

I didn’t expect her to change her mind.

I didn’t EXPECT… to lose my temper. She had promised!! And just because when we said the words the moon went black and wind picked up, howling like the screams of the tortured, it didn’t necessarily MEAN anything. It could have just been the WEATHER.

Reader, I know what you are thinking. I can hear your thoughts. The WHISPERING.

STOP WHISPERING!

And don’t hold that word in your mouth like bile. Most witches are kind. Most witches are good. Most witches only did what they had to do and didn’t hurt ANYONE.

Although most witches are gone now.

Burned.

It was so hot.

Stupid high heeled rainbow sandals. MY COVEN IS BROKEN!! That’s ok though. I have found a way to bring her back. A way for my best friend to be here with me again.  

I found it in that little dingy bookstore I visited last summer. The one with the brick walls and flowers in the pots and the little cobblestone entry.

The spell’s recipe is long. So many things to collect. I am working through the list, and I am getting so close. The hardest one to find was a body for her to have.

And now I have it.

Oh yes, yes, YESSS. The person using it DID put up a bit of a fight, but he was no match for me. He pretended to be scared and sad, but I knew better. He was alone. And kids that are alone are unloved.

STOP WHISPERING! YOU DON’T KNOW!

He liked cars too. He told me. That’s where I found him. In the toy aisle.

His little shoes don’t have rainbows. I hope that doesn’t disappoint her. She will be comfortable in this body. I’ll make sure. His one arm IS broken a little, but it is better than ALLL of the limbs being useless. Plus his brain is contained. No one wants to come back to life with brain-matter-Jello on their face.

WHAT?

Don’t ask questions about HOW. HOW? HOW? HOW?

I can SMELL you thinking about it. So dramatic you are, dear reader. He. Was. ALONE.

Once I am done collecting these last items, some of them are so very hard to find, I will make sure everything is perfect, and my dear friend who I shoved off that bridge will come back to me, and she will forgive me, and she will finally smile back, and we will have a coven, and we will be together again.

 And we…… we will be best friends.