Ana #2
Walking behind the floating ghost, his words came back to me. “Why would I strengthen myself if your master needs a soul?”
But the boy floated further down the stony hall, ignoring me.
I walked after him into a small kitchen, where the smell of food was well preserved, having no way to air the room. There was a small cast-iron pot on a wood stove and a solid m?m?lig? next to it. The scent of fried pork meat called to my stomach.
As my eyes searched the room, I took a seat at the round, wooden table. I watched enthralled as the ghost placed the pot and m?m?lig? on a wooden board without even touching it, its steam warming my face.
There were two large cabinets filled with mugs, pots and trays, in no proper order. My fingers twitched at the thought that my mum would rearrange them.
She would chastise us for not tidying up after ourselves, but she would always join in our cleaning, making a game out of it.
“I thought you… fantome cannot lift or…,” I mumbled, my eyebrows joining, still eyeing the cabinets. Their doors closed with a bang, making me jump in my seat. The creature narrowed his void eyes at me.
The ghost made a cackling sound. “Oh, you poor woman, you should get out of your church or your Bible and look around. We are more evolved than…”
“I am not insulting your beliefs, so why do you?” I took the warm pot from the air, scowling at him.
I poured some of the tochitur? in the clay bowl in front of me, using a piece of m?m?lig? to gather the meat sauce, instead of a spoon. It tasted as bland as water. “Do you have some salt?” I requested, trying not to look directly at him.
His gasp almost broke my hearing. He crossed his hands over his chest, but a large bag of salt was plopped on the table.
“Thank you,” I mumbled and sprinkled some of it over the food.
The meat was tender, breaking as I put the piece of m?m?lig? in it. My mouth couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste of the onion mixed with tomato sauce. I missed my mum and her cooking.
Not realising how hungry I was, I pushed the empty bowl to the middle of the table.
“Do you know if I can see my family?” I set my eyes on the stove, which was blurry through the ghost.
Another cackle came from the translucent neck of the boy. “Of course not! You are now his slave, as am I, human. You do not think much, do you?”
Apparently not.
My hand reached out to the mug, but by mistake, the sack filled with salt fell to the floor. I gasped, my eyes widening. That was a bad omen. Spilling salt over any surface meant quarrels with the members of the house.
With my pulse accelerating, thoughts of more evil coming my way crossed my mind. It was ungodly enough to be in the same cave with a ghost and the Goat Man.
“Woman, is just some salt. I will have more fetched next morning.”
In the next minute, a broom appeared and swept every grain from the floor, then jumped straight into an empty bucket.
“That means I am going to attract…”
“Stop talking this instant! There are no superstitions here, not Bau-Bau, no gods, saints and whatnot.”
Shaking my head, because this interaction was draining me of everything I had, I drank the whole mug of what I thought was water.
The acid taste of ?uic? burnt my tongue, and I started to cough. I only tasted it once before.
After my family would collect all the plums from the orchard and leave them to ferment, my father would call our neighbours to start preparing the drink. Once the juice was collected from the fruits, it was time for the alcohol to get out.
My father would bring the large boiler that he inherited from his parents, and at a high flame, the steam would turn the juice into ?uic?.
One of his friends gave me a small glass that fit nicely in my hands and asked me to drink. Being more na?ve, I took everything in a swig. Every inch of me burned.
I loathed it.
I stood up, suddenly getting the courage to look straight into the ghost’s eyes. “I am not dead, I still have my body, I can move, and I can feel. So, how am I supposed to serve your master?” My feet went on their own accord, nose to nose with the ghost.
“I… I…” he babbled, his eyes rolling in his head.
I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for an answer. My left eyelid twitched, another bad omen approaching.
If one’s upper lid twitched, then something good will happen that day; if the lower lid twitched, then something which will ruin your day will take place.
It was clear as day that I was doomed. If I were not dead by then, I would be soon.
“I guess my master will tell you everything once he returns,” the boy mumbled into his chest.
“And where is this master of yours?”
“I am not allowed to tell you.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “Can you, please, make the room warmer?”
“I am not your servant!” he shouted, bawling his fists.
“You’re not. At least show me where you keep the logs, and I will take it from there.” I was not afraid to work my stay there. My parents shaped me to do many things to keep a household afloat.
The ghost tsked, pondering my words. “Next time. Now, it would be faster if I made it. Be still and don’t do anything stupid.”
I nodded and thanked him.
Before leaving, he turned around. “Tomorrow, you’ll start working around the house.”
My head dipped again, and I watched him step straight into the walls. Chills seeped their way down my spine, not believing my own eyes.
I stepped on the stone with great care.
This was not my reality, was it? Where was I? What place was this? And where was this master who took me and left me here alone with phantoms?
While Andrei, the ghost, brought wood and made the fire in my chamber, I roamed around the cave.
There was a bathroom with a large bathtub and an iron bucket next to it. An abundance of soaps of different fragrances was neatly arranged on a wooden shelf. Rags and robes were placed on a hook. Each of them was void of colour.
In the middle of the ceiling stood a chandelier with candles. The same wheat-coloured candles were placed here and there throughout the cave.
The room left me in awe. We did not have this at any of the houses in my village. We were used to bathe under the sun, in the summer or inside in a room which could not be called a bathroom.
I stepped further into the next chamber. There was a cramped library, with only three shelves filled with books to the brim, and tomes that contained texts in other languages, not spoken in my village. Their tempting smell drew me near them.
My fingers touched the thin yellow pages, bringing me the best sensation I could have in my confinement. Vines decorated the bookcases, giving me the impression they were long forgotten.
A pang hit my heart, remembering my family and their sorrow. I should have been there with them, helping them stay afloat.
Angelica will have to go with Gavril at some point, leaving our mum alone with our father. The silver lining was that he couldn’t hit her anymore.
A few tears filled my eyes, but I expelled them. It was not the time to grieve. I made my choice, and I had to carry it with me.
My burden was heavy, but I would wear it proudly.
I made the cross sign, sending a small prayer for my mum and sister, hoping they would not have to suffer for my judgement.
Next to the library was my room, but straining my neck, I saw another hole in the cave’s wall, opposite to mine. Light came from it, the flames flickering, drawing my attention.
Curiosity overcame fear, and I crept towards the hole. My fingers skimmed the stone until I reached the room.
I could only peek at the thick cloak left ajar on the same rug as in my room, parchment papers fallen under a table. I couldn’t make out the handwriting, but I had the impression the words were not Romanian.
All of a sudden, my heart started to pound faster, as though it would run out of my chest and hide away from the brute.
“Curiosity killed the cat, peasant!”