A Ghost Story

‘They say she only comes at night,’ the children whisper to each other, with delighted horrified faces. ‘They say she’s looking for a child of her own.’ The firelight flickers over them, and they feel the delicious tingle at the back of their necks, and creep down their bony spines.
‘Wearing white,’ Jill whispers.
‘Floating,’
‘Above the floor.’
‘I heard her crying,’ Jacob says in a loud voice. The others shush him. ‘No you didn’t.’
‘I did,’ he says, redness flushing over his cheeks. ‘I heard her cry.’
Jill lowers her brow at him and pushes out her bottom lip. ‘Sssh Jacob, don’t spoil everything.’ Jacob crosses his arms in front of him, stares at the flickering light in the fireplace, the words bob in his throat but he forces them down. Jill takes up the story again. ‘A long long time ago, before even any people were even born…’
‘That's stupid,’ Jacob says before he can stop himself. ‘If people aren’t born, then they can’t die, and then there definitely can’t be ghosts.’ Jill’s sigh seems to fill the whole room with her frustration. Jacob can almost taste it, like a bitter fog.
‘Okay then,’ she says stressing the hard k with an irritated click of her tongue. ‘A long long time ago, when the first people were already born,’ she shoots a look at Jacob and he swallows down the words which are rebelliously dancing in his mouth. ‘There was a beautiful lady that was so beautiful that people used to die as soon as they saw her.’
‘Just by looking at her?’ the youngest child John asks, eyes wide. ‘Die by looking.’
‘Yes, by looking,’ Jill says, warming up to her theme. ‘People would come to her, look at her and then die, like this.’ She puts a hand to her heart and flops her upper body forward, folding it across her knees. She rises up again slowly, dramatically, The flickering firelight casts strange shadows on her face. ‘Dead. Just like that.’
‘But wasn’t she sad? If people died all around her?’ John asks. His hand creeps to pick up his frayed teddy.
‘So so sad,’ says Jill importantly. ‘How would you feel if everywhere you went, people died at your feet? Dead bodies everywhere, having to walk through dead people like you’re wading in the sea.’
Jacob has waded in the sea before, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the feel of the stones in his bare feet and the soft fingers of seaweed stroking his legs and promising to keep him there as one of their own. He shivers at the thought of dead bodies under the water.
‘One day,’ Jill says, ‘she heard about a man who could rise people from the dead, and she sent for him to come to her. And he came and just like everyone else, he died at her feet. She bent down and looked at his beautiful face. Because he was beautiful. Just like her. She stroked his face, like this.’ She bends over and flutters her fingers over John’s face. ‘Ewww, ‘ he says, rocking back on his haunches. ‘Get away.’
‘She said to him - rise yourself, rise yourself, dear one, from the dead. Because she already loved him. Because he was beautiful, and because she knew he could save her.’
‘That’s stupid,’ says Jacob before he could stop himself, ‘he can’t save her if he’s dead.’
‘Mum,’ Jill calls. ‘Will you tell Jacob? He’s spoiling everything.’ Jacob glared at her. Stupid stories. Stupid Jill. The children fall silent as they wait for the busy, bustling figure of Mum to come in and scold or drop kisses. They hold their breath and listen for the clatter of dishes from the other room to stop. It doesn’t. Jill lets out her breath noisily. ‘Now listen Jacob, or I will get Mum this time.’
His face curls up on itself. ‘Then tell the story properly.’
‘She knew he could save her. All she wanted was an ordinary life with a man who loved her,and to have children and to live happily ever after. She knew that this was the man who would give her all of that.’
‘And did he come back alive?’ asks John.
‘Well,’ Jill says leaning forward. The children, even Jacob, lean forward slightly to hear. Jill drops her voice lower than a whisper. ‘Well, she stroked his face, and she said, dear one, my dear heart, rise from the dead and save me. But as she looked at his beauty, she felt a sudden pain. And just like so many had done before her, she bent over and she died. She died by looking at him. Because of his beauty.’
‘That's stupid,’ says John. Jill glares at him. Jacob’s pleased that it wasn’t him that said it.
‘So she never was saved,’ says Jill insisting on finishing her story. ‘She never was saved, and she never had children, so now she walks the earth looking for the man who killed her, and looking for children to replace the ones she never had.’ John’s already on his feet, bored. ‘So you better watch out,’ Jill calls as he left the room, ‘as she might want you.’
Jacob swings up on his feet. ‘Stupid story,’ he throws back over his shoulder. Jill sticks out her tongue until he leaves the room.
***********

It’s the middle of the night. Jacob’s eyes are open although he can’t remember opening them. He can’t remember if he’s been sleeping or not. He’s staring at the ceiling listening to the noise. It’s the lady crying. He knows it’s her. Jill didn’t get the story quite right. She didn’t die because of a silly man. She died because her heart broke right in two with losing everyone she ever loved. She died of loneliness. Jacob knows this story, he knows because the lady tells him and he hears her crying every night since they moved here. He never sees her though, she whispers that he can’t see her because then he’ll die too, she whispers in his ear all night long and tells him how lonely she is. Jacob knows how that feels.
He pushes the covers off. His body is sticky with sweat, and the air feels cold on his skin when he opens his window. The lady keeps crying. ‘I’m here,’ he tells her. All he’s ever wanted to do is see her, to see the beauty that made men, women and children drop dead at her feet. What kind of beauty must that be? More beautiful than the moon he can now see high and proud in the sky, more beautiful than the squat solid beauty of his mum. He wants that beauty so bad that he doesn’t care how he gets it. He looks down at the ground below. If he’s in danger, she’ll catch him, she’ll show him that she loves him and he’ll see her beauty.
He climbs up slowly on the window sill. Rough wood against his hands. Air on his face. He pulls his legs over the sill. Naked, he stands right at the edge. Breathing. Looking at the moon and waiting. Waiting for her. She’s all he’s ever wanted. He hears her crying get louder and louder until it fills up all that he is. He isn’t Jacob anymore, he is tears and anguish and a pain that it is in every part of him. ‘My boy,’ he hears her cry. As Jacob begins to fall, he feels at last that he belongs.