The Spirits in the Children’s Room

At the dawn of the 1980s, only two or three cars pass down their little street each day. It is such an event that the children run after them, easily catching up. They see them off to the corner, lungs full of the exciting, strange scent of gasoline. Sometimes a driver honks the horn, sending the kids into delighted shrieks—along with the laughter and curses of adults watching from balconies and benches.

Other times, when an important game is interrupted, the children yell and even hurl pebbles at the offending cars. Drivers slam on their brakes and chase after the kids, but can they even catch more than a whiff of them? The kids know every hole in the fences, every jump that carries them onto the Lower Street as if by magic.

They are a massive gang—unheard of today. More than thirty children roam each lane at that time, wild and uncontrollable, driving the adults to shout themselves hoarse. And if shouting fails, slaps follow. Both at home and at school, that is childhood back then. No wonder that, in the middle of a game, they also turn on each other. Or take revenge on the adults by climbing dangerous construction sites and playing there for hours.

The neighbourhood is close-knit. The shops are empty, and there are hardly any possessions to own in communism, so the kids take turns bringing home the only Rubik’s cube around. They swap children’s magazines and marbles; write letters for years to unknown Russian pen pals; and painstakingly copy Russian cases hundreds of times every vacation. There is no television to speak of, but they are blessed with limitless imagination and warm togetherness, with wild physical skill. The children play from dusk till dawn. They perform spells, call spirits, never cross the street after seeing a black cat, and never set off for the first day of school without a splash of water down the stairs for good luck.

Twice or thrice, when tired of shooting each other with paper blow guns, the lane arranges real battles with the Lower Street. Lining up at opposite ends of the lane, they hurl stones at each other. Heads split open more than once, and it is always the neighbouring kids who bleed. In the evening, their furious parents come to fight, too—and the victorious Upper Street children earn an extra round of pounding from their parents. But what does it matter― they are the winners!

The street is the world. Theirs, the Lower one, and the one right across from theirs.

***

Summoning spirits is back in fashion in the ‘80s, like it was sixty years earlier. Because of Communism and being forbidden, the practice is thriving and naturally transmits to the children. No one really knows how old the incantations are — the ones passed down from mothers and grandmothers — but, as it turns out, quite a few people in the neighbourhood know them. Strangely enough, these spells aren’t much different from those chanted by children in faraway villages.

Once again, it’s a never-ending summer vacation. For months now, the kids have been running wild, shouting through the streets or hanging around the bars in the schoolyard. They’ve already played every game “a hundred times,” mastered the Rubik’s Cube by heart, collected scrap paper as their summer school task, and read the children’s magazines from cover to cover. Yet something is missing — something they can’t touch or name. A strange longing creeps over them during the drowsy afternoons, when only flies buzz along the street, and the vine leaves that bedeck some yards hang limp in the heat. A yearning for something eerie and mysterious, something unknown that might swallow them whole — and perhaps, frighten them. Their world feels too simple, too flat, and oh, how they wish there were more to it!

Everywhere they hear the same refrain: God doesn’t exist, and religion is forbidden. Going to church is banned — except for the grandmothers, whom the children are taught at school to mock. But in the sweltering afternoons, in the heavy, stagnant air of the town, someone gets an idea.

“Let’s call the spirits!”

At once the swarm of children stirs and buzzes like a hive of wasps.

“Nonsense, spirits! We’ll call spirits, really?” shout Adi and a few children, laughing.

“Are you all out of your minds?! Do you even know how dangerous that is?!” —others like Bibi burst out. Everyone now starts talking over each other, eager to share their ghost stories.

“We had this aunt — Aunt Mara from Sofia— who used to call spirits…” Gergana begins mysteriously in a loud whisper. Strangely, her older brother doesn’t shush her this time, which instantly makes the others prick up their ears.

“And then she died very suddenly. Just like that — out of nowhere!” Gergana’s eyes grow wide. “And then my uncle — her husband, you know — told Grandma that Aunt Mara and her friend were always calling the Queen of Spades. Sometimes she came, sometimes she didn’t. But once, they made her angry, and the Queen of Spades broke the mirror they’d summoned her in. And a month later, Aunt Mara and her friend both died. Both of them!” she finishes in a frightened whisper. Her brother doesn’t contradict her, and even in the blazing heat, a strange chill sweeps over the children.

“Well, yes,” Bibi also lowers her voice stealthily, scanning everyone with a look of superiority —making sure it’s clear she also has first-hand information. The kids hang on her every word. “Something like that happened to people we know too. Three second cousins of our cousin from Macedonia also called spirits. And then one kid went blind, another got crippled, and the third choked to death!”

A girl gasps and claps a hand over her mouth, but Adi, Borko, and a few others burst out laughing. Yet curiosity gnaws at them all the same. Adi is a born scientist and loves testing things.

Now the group erupts in noisy debate over who knows which incantations and which ones are “the most effective,” but Adi and Borko can hardly stop giggling. Borko hasn’t laughed so hard since his brother went off to the army. With 11 he likes to think he’s outgrown childish antics — though, frustratingly, his height stays almost the same. Borko has become far too serious, and sometimes that frightens his mother. But now — finally — he’s laughing from the heart at the talk of ghosts, not noticing that Adi is giggling louder and louder mostly because he is.

“Go on then, call the Queen of Spades — she’s the one who comes most often!” Older sis[1] Zhivka teases cheerfully as she steps out of the gate. She’s clearly going on a date, all dolled up in a new long skirt, makeup brightening her pretty face. The whole hive now wonders whether Zhivka will get back home on time — or whether they’ll once again

[1] In the original Bulgarian text, the Bulgarian word for “older sister” is used ― a respectful form of address for senior friends, family and neighbours.

hear her father shouting at her, and at her beautiful mother too. While the children speculate, their older sister disappears down the street, skirts swishing.

“…but the Queen of Spades also the most dangerous one!” someone continues excitedly. “She can curse you if she’s angry — or even drag people into the afterlife, they said! But if she likes you, she can tell your future. Maybe even grant you a wish!” They giggle into her palm, embarrassed. “Though I’m not sure we should call exactly her…”

“Oh, yes we should!” Bibi jumps in immediately, pursing her painted lips with self-importance. Her mother curls her hair and puts lipstick on her even though she is just a child. “And my Macedonian cousin told me that the Queen of Spades appears only to women. If there’s even one boy in the room, she won’t come.”

“You just made that up, didn’t you? So that the ‘annoying boys’ won’t tell you nothing’s happening when you start your ghost nonsense!” Borko grumbles. Like some others, he finds Bibi’s doll-like looks and manner unbearable.

Bibi plants her hands on her hips and drawls coquettishly, imitating her mother to perfection.

“I am noooot making it up, Borkooo!” Bibi protests, drawing out his name in that new sing-song way she’s recently started using on boys — a habit that, unfortunately, only makes them mock her more. In a few years some of them will start to like it, but for now the effect is the opposite. A few rougher boys are even tempted to smack her. At this moment, though, everyone — boys and girls alike — is too worked up to notice Bibi’s flirting. The yard buzzes with noise as they all shout over one another.

“It’s true! Only to women! It’s true! We heard the same thing!”

“You’re lying! You made that up on purpose!”

A clever older sis from the new housing cooperative lingers near them, intrigued by the unusual commotion. In the end she confirms, with a knowing air:

“My grandma told me the same — the Queen of Spades appears only to women.” The older sis affectionately brushes her hand over Borko’s close-cropped head, as if to soften the blow. He endures it in silence.

“For once, something just for women!” warbles another older sis, coming back from the shop. Normally, Borko likes her a lot, she is his brother’s girlfriend, but right now he turns away sharply, slings an arm over his pal’s shoulder, and calls to the boys:

“Come on, let’s go play marbles. You should see the new ones my mom bought me!” He shakes his pocket meaningfully and the little pieces clatter inside.

“Go ahead, call your ghosts — let them chase you all the way to the cemetery!” His friend jeers, red with irritation. Until now, the boys and girls had only ever split up over jump rope ― and that the boys did willingly.

Adi feels a twinge of disappointment that her best friend Borko won’t join the fun. And even though she finds the whole thing ridiculous, she’s too curious to resist — it’ll be an experiment! Adi’s definitely not a one to be scared by old wives’ tales.

“Sour grapes, huh?” she shoots back at the boy, flicking her stick-straight hair off her shoulder. “Fine, once we’re done with the Queen of Spades, we’ll call some friendlier spirits — maybe ones that like boys,” Adi adds, lips twitching. And at that, the older sisters burst out laughing.

In the end, the girls gather at Adi’s place — the only home where no one’s around. They climb to the top floor of the prefabricated block where she lives, and she unlocks the door with her latchkey. Theirs is one of the few families that actually lock their door.

“Dad’s afraid someone might steal all the magazines and the Encyclopaedia,” Adi whispers. The apartment is truly deserted — her parents are at work, and her little brother is at preschool. There’s an enormous bookcase in the living room shaded against the sun. A girl stands entranced before it until Bibi calls her impatiently from the children’s chamber. Adi is sure that no one will disturb them there, even if someone happens to come home.

The children’s room is bright and neat… too bright, the girls decide. They draw the flowery curtains, which cast a pleasant semi-darkness over the room. Bibi takes a mirror from under her frock — stolen from her mother’s dressing table. It’s oval, with a long handle; there’s nothing like it anywhere in the neighbourhood. Someone has brought a used candle, and Adi runs to the kitchen to fill a brass bowl with water.

In the dim light of the children’s room, they sit around the table: Adi, Bibi, and four other girls who are thrilled to do something so mysterious — and forbidden. The girls light the candle, which must reflect in the mirror that Adi props on her knee. The candle is placed in a jar in the middle of the bowl. Slowly, it begins to sway in the water and casts its reflection into the ladies’ mirror.

Bibi whispers something to Adi, who looks bored, until the oldest girl in the circle nudges her in the ribs. And orders everyone to hold hands. Then the oldest girl says, loud and clear:

“Queen of Spades, appear!”

But she barely manages not to burst out laughing and turns red from the effort, while the girls avoid looking at each other for the same reason. The heat outside presses through the closed windows, radiating through the walls.

“Queen of Spades, appear!” Adi now insists.

The little audience starts snorting with laughter, red-faced from holding it in. Adi finds it very hard not to laugh, so she fixes her gaze on the candle — impractical, if you want to observe the psychological reactions of your friends inclined to believe in spirits. Adi is sure that some of the girls will try to interpret even the most trivial phenomenon — like the candle going out — as proof of supernatural interference. No matter how funny it seems right now.

“We really have to want her to come and be serious!” Bibi scolds. The faces around her force themselves into solemn, funeral-like expressions.

“Queen of Spades, reveal yourself!” The older girl calls demandingly, clenching her fists. The flame of the candle flickers in the mirror’s reflection, and now the girls can’t tear their eyes away from it. Suddenly, the birds on the apartment roof fall silent. Then they start chirping sharply and fearfully.

“Don’t stare into the mirror! Only the candle should be visible there. If She comes and thinks we’re looking at Her, She might pull us in through it!” Bibi whispers, half-angry, half-scared. The children’s room is dim and oppressively warm, their foreheads and hands sweaty from holding each other. From outside, fragmented sounds drift in: neighbours snoring through afternoon naps, a half-asleep baby whining, the sharp screams of the birds, putting everyone’s subconscious on alert. The girls’ smiles vanish. They’ve fixed their gaze on the mirror even though they shouldn’t, but Adi grows impatient.

“Queen of Spades, appear!” someone calls again, their voice eerie and otherworldly.

And suddenly the two-door wardrobe lurches toward them, slamming its doors.

The girls scream and jump to their feet as the wardrobe bounces toward them, swinging its wings and scattering clothes everywhere. Bibi flies out the door first, screaming in terror. He older girl dashes after her, and then Adi, who manages to extinguish the candle in the bowl of water. The wardrobe now creaks its way toward another girl, who has turned white as a sheet and can’t take her eyes off the mirror.

“COME ON!!” someone screams, dragging the paralysed girl along. But now the entire apartment rocks back and forth, and the last girl stumbles out, her face frozen in horror. It’s hard to run. Outside, nothing is right either; people are running down the building staircase, shouts and frightened moans echo everywhere.

"I knew it! I knew we shouldn’t have called her! Forgive us, Queen of Spades, forgive us!" Bibi whimpers as they gallop down the swaying staircase, holding onto the railing. Older people clomp and shout after them, Gergana’s grandmother wobbling down the stairs…

"Quick, outside!" Borko meets them on the first floor, grabbing Adi and the smallest girl by the hands. His petulance is completely gone and Adi’s heart races somehow even faster now. The kids shoot out onto the street, already filled with retired neighbours or those on vacation. Bibi’s mother is there, all the usual grandmothers and grandfathers, uncles and aunts with babies in their arms… Bibi buries her face in her mother’s chest and squeals, "Queen of Spades, we called her, Queen of Spades! Mommy, help!" No one laughs and her mother hugs her, because the ground continues to shake and rumble. One baby screams at the top of its lungs, and its mother presses it to her neck.

A little later, the tremors weaken and die down. Borko, Adi, and the others have huddled together, and now, embarrassed, they let go.

"Wow, look! Look how the house cracked here!" Aunt Bota marvels, pointing to her in-laws, Grandma Lyuba and Grandpa Ivan, showing them the side of their shared house. Both begin to wail and curse, while the other neighbours check their own houses. At least for now, no major damage is visible.

"What have you done, you kids?!" Bibi’s father shouts. "What if you had angered the Queen of Spades so much that she decided to settle the score with all of us?!" he asks, apparently serious, his eyes twinkling.

"Impossible!" Adi snaps, having composed herself. This is one of the few times she dares to cut off an adult. Really, should grown-ups be saying such nonsense?

"It wasn’t any Queen of Spades at all ― just an ordinary earthquake!"

A few kids including Bibi throw her irritated looks. They are just about to shout at her when Borko steps in.

"Well, there you go! Good thing Adi told you. Otherwise, you might have kicked the bucket yourselves. Just like that, out of fear of the Queen of Spades!" rolls Borko his eyes, chokes and imitates a dying man. Adi now feels so light she can take off the ground like a balloon.

Huge disappointment spreads across many faces. Ah, how boring that there’s nothing mysterious about what has happened!