The Spirit of Ravenshom House

Chapter 13: In Love With A Ghost

The cat that crossed their path was unfortunately black. Sure it had white stripes here and there and an argument could be made that it was not entirely black and hence the superstition didn't count, but that did not stop Ephra in his dark Burberry coat on that Sunday morning from jumping up in the air, screaming like a witch burning on a stake and spilling coffee on himself all of which Daphne from a very short distance observed, amused.

"Walk behind me, single file," Ephra's voice rang a tremor, nothing short of a Sergeant's drill. His hands splayed out in front of him taut, pulled her behind him. "We have to be cautious now."

"That cat is not going to magically cause any accidents to us just because we let it cross our path, Ephra. If anything it should be grateful that we let it pass. Besides this is the dirt road to the church, the worst that could happen is us getting trampled by a herd of goats."

Daphne clear faced but pale felt timid, walking down the road to the town church. Her hands were jiggling as if worms were wiggling underneath her skin and she kept fisting them into balls to lose the ungodly feeling not succeeding much.

"You just had to put that image in my head, didn't you?" Ephra looked around scouting for goats.

"You are scared of goats?" Daphne was sceptical. She didn't believe Ephra could be scared of anything. For one to be scared one had to have survival instinct, which Ephra lacked thoroughly.

"Demon creatures," Ephra made a face as if he was smelling something foul. "Can't trust them, not one bit."

"So goats really do have a connection to Satan and the occult and stuff," Daphne shook her head.

"What?" Ephra threw his empty go-to plastic cup into a trash can. "No, they are nasty creatures with a long stupid face and an evil mind. When I was nine one rear ended me right on my bum. I have even got a scar, right here on my left cheek", he twisted his arm around, pointing at his left bum and Daphne spit out laughing.

"It's not funny," Ephra yelled but Daphne barely heard him. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like that. The stretches and folds her face made felt strange to the skin, raw and rare lines twisting her sunken cheeks.

"I got him back though, ate him next week with broth."

Daphne's eyes bulged out, "You did not."

"I did too, didn't even taste good, gnarly little beast."

Daphne wiped tears of laughter forming at the corners of her eyes.

The wind blew her hair into her face but she didn't attempt at wiping them away. The cold was getting bitter each day and as winter approached the town upended in holiday cheer.

As they had passed the town centre Daphne had witnessed the whole place buzzling with people. The men and women of the town were busy, shopping for Christmas and decorating the town square. Children were being dragged around, ice lollies in their hands while mothers had long handwritten lists to tick off as they exited each shop. There was supposed to be a bonfire the size of a small hill the night of Christmas eve and everybody was excited. There was laughter and talk, the jingle of doorbells and smells of pastries everywhere. It was the first time walking around town no one had bothered to stare at her, the girl who survived Ravenshom.

The local paper had titled the name and it stuck like an arrogant leech. It sounded heroic but only felt pathetic. She had escaped a psychopath that she herself had created in the first place. It didn't merit anything but foolishness on her part. But the town didn't seem to agree.

After the story had surfaced about Jerry's Revenge scheme, courtesy of Ephra blabbing his mouth to everyone, who all of a sudden were keen to meet the boy who had saved Daphne from the Ravenshom fire, she had expected the whole town to turn on her for causing the death of both Jenny and Jerry. But the town had instead warmed up in support of her, sympathizing for having been betrayed by a loved one so ruthlessly. They had started to treat her like a fragile holy flower fallen to the ground, not to be stepped on, not to be thrown away.