56. Cori
Cori
C ori watched the sunlight fade behind the yellowed lace curtains of her floral prison. Time moved like molasses down the side of a spoon as the hours of the day ticked by. She had declined breakfast and lunch. When it was near dinnertime, Enzo visited her again, imploring her to eat something.
Suddenly, she was ten years old again, hugging her teddy bear on her bed, telling her big brother about a bad day at school. She nodded slowly and looked up into his sad eyes, golden flecks of light flaring. “Will you make me a grilled cheese, Enz?”
He arranged his lips into a firm, thin line. Unblinking, he nodded and walked out of the room without another word.
It was the best grilled cheese she had ever tasted, and it made her wonder if he used some kind of magic when he cooked it. Just like when she was a little girl, she felt a little lighter with each bite she took. He made it just the way she liked it—with a thin slice of tomato and provolone cheese.
Her eyes had fluttered into intermittent sleep when the dark hours of the day passed by. Spirits sulked past the door of her room all day. Most hung their heads and paced, but none took notice of her. Despite her magic being chained to the bolt in the wall, nothing could keep the energy of the spirits away from her.
She watched the steady march of ghosts through the hall, a parade only she could see. Just like auras, her connection to the spirit world was not connected to her magic at all, but was external to her, something she could tap into that was not her own.
The Other.
A little girl with plaited blond hair startled Cori as she bounced down the hall. It took her several moments to realize that she was a spirit, as her form was more solid than most of the others that had passed by.
She was dressed in a neat brown dress with floral embroidery, and she floated into the room happily as if on her way to complete a pleasant errand. The air in the room became cool as the little girl plopped herself on the opposite bed with comfortable ease. Cori recalled Zion’s story about the Sampson family, and how they had been hanged on the property—even their children.
Was this one of the Sampson children? Was this her old bedroom?
The little girl must have sensed Cori’s awareness of her as she lifted her eyes, amusement playing on her pretty oval face. “Can you see me, mistress?”
Cori nodded. “I can.” Spirit children were always the most pleasant to talk to, but it still made her ache for them—robbed of life at such an early age.
The girl floated across the room. “Are you Celestial, then? Have you seen my sister?”
“I’m afraid I have seen no other children today.” Cori smiled at her warmly. “But yes, I am Celestial.”
The girl nodded, smoothing out the wrinkles in her poplin dress. “Aye, I thought it would be so. As am I.”
A lump formed in Cori’s throat. No wonder this little girl manifested such a clear, solid form. “Are you one of the Sampson children?” she asked her.
“Yes, mistress.” Her eyes darkened as her voice fell to a whisper. She peered into the hallway as though expectant. “Are you one of the sacrifices?”
Cool air dried her throat. “I do believe I am. ”
The girl placed a transparent hand on her forearm. “Do not have fear in your heart, miss.” she said with sympathy. “It’s not hard at all to cross.”
Tears welled in Cori’s eyes. This girl was so young to have seen such horrors in her own home. “May I ask a question?” The young girl nodded earnestly. “What does it feel like?”
The little girl closed her eyes. “I don’t remember much, but don’t worry yourself. It doesn’t hurt.” The girl crinkled her eyes in a smile, tipping her head up to the sky. “Besides, today is not your day to cross.”
Cori had no time to react. She heard a soft knock on the door as she darted her eyes away from the spirit of the little girl. A small middle-aged woman with a stern face appeared at the door. “Ms. Mangianelli, my name is Sue. I will escort you out to the field, dear.”
Cori glanced back to where the spirit had been only to find that she had disappeared, dematerialized back to the spirit realm, likely to find her sister and tell her about their conversation.