Dreamers // Enoch O'Connor

Chapter 35: Matoatoa

Matoatoa - Malagasy for Ghost
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One month later

A month had passed in the Peregrine household since the Portman boy left.

He wrote as often as he could, most of the letters addressed to Emma.

And whenever that thin envelope was set on the table, a messy yet soft 'Emma Bloom' written on top, the girl raced down, her heart in her throat, grabbing it as quickly as she could, and gently ripping it open

She kept everything she received, every envelope and letter, every dried up flower and picture, storing it for her own comfort.

And she read the words over and over again every single night, lulling her into a safe and comfortable sleep.

"Remind you of something? To my bombshell! Love, Abe."

And with her soft, cursive letters, she replied.

"Peeling spuds & dreaming of you. Come home soon. Love, your potato."

An exchanging of words that conjured an image of the others presence in the others mind.

And the promise that he would return always lingered everywhere.

Around every word, every corner, every thought.

-----

Darkness cascaded across the sky, small stars burning into the atmosphere.

All the peculiars sat outside in a tight circle, legs, arms, and all body parts you could think of intertwined.

Bonfire night, as Hugh put it.

I leaned against Enoch, my head against his shoulder, his large sweater swallowing my whole body up, his arm limp around my frame, face nestled in my neck.

Everyone's bare feet against the slightly damp grass, the pointy blades tickling the soles.

Across the circle, Hugh and Fiona sat together, his hand playing with her tangled hair.

A small gesture that made the group look at each other, signaling that they knew the couple was together.

'The ship has sailed,' as Victor would have put it.

A large fire burned in the middle, and occasionally a spark would fly outwards. Orange blended with blue, heat hugging all of us.

Silence.

Peacefulness.

Joy.

In its purest form.

"Looks like Enoch and Hugh are going all soft," Millard snickered.

"Shut up," the two boys replied in unison, chuckling. Enoch just tucked his face even more into my skin, kissing it lightly, not daring to open his eyes and let the moment slip.

Silence, once again.

"I'm bored," a small voice whined.

"Me too," a voice piped up.

"Why don't we tell some ghost stories?" Millard proposed.

And at that moment the fire in front of us extinguished completely, darkness surrounding us all, the house lights all gone.

And looking up, new stars shone their presence, glowing amidst the black sky.

A light shone from where Millard was sitting, a flashlight floating, revealing nothing but a hat.

"There was a young girl named Lisa," Millard began, his hat twisting as if he was looking at each of us, "she was often alone at home at night, as her parents worked late. So, they bought her a dog to keep her company. One night, Lisa woke up to the sound of dripping. She got up and went to the kitchen to make sure the tap was off. When she returned to her bed, she stuck her hand under the bed, and the dog licked it. The dripping sound continued, so she went to the bathroom to make sure the tap was turned off there as well. She went to her room, stuck her hand under the bed, and the dog licked it again. But the dripping continued... drip drip drip. She listened, and located the source of her dripping... it was coming from her closet. She opened the closet and found her dog hanging upside down, its neck cut! And written on the inside of the closet door was..." he paused for dramatic effect, watching as all the younger children held onto each other, "humans can lick too!" Millard laughed as the younger girls screamed.

Enoch rolled his eyes at the childish tale, and I giggled at his reaction. 

"I have one that's even scarier than that," Bronwyn glanced around the circle as everyone's eyes shifted to the curly headed girl, "Once there was an old woman, who had been ill for quite a while, and she passed away after lying in a come for a couple of days. Her husband was devastated, as his one true love, who he had married over 50 years ago, departed from him. They were married for so long it seemed as if they knew each other's thoughts and feelings. After the doctor pronounced her dead, the old man insisted she was alive. They had to tear him away from his wife's body and sedate him so that they could prepare her for the burial. Once she was buried, the old man awoke to a horrifying image of his wife, hysterical, attempting to scratch her way out of the coffin. He phoned a doctor instantly, begging for his wife's body to be exhumed. The doctor refused. The nightmare occurred every night for a week, each time the old man phoned the doctor, begging. Finally, the doctor gave in and, together with the local authorities, excavated the body. The coffin was pried open, and the old woman's nails were bent backwards, bloody scratch marks on the top of the coffin."

Enoch jolted my figure with his arms, yelling a quick 'boo' at the end of the tale, and I screamed, hitting him with my arm as he steadied me, arms lingering on my shoulders.

"You bastard!" I yelled, cheeks lighting up pink from my reaction.

"I've got ya," he said, chuckling lightly as he wrapped himself around me once again, "Come on, you're all so unimaginative." All eyes turned towards the gory deadriser, expecting a tale filled with blood and psychopaths, "A couple was driving late at night, and they noticed a girl hitchhiking. They picked her up and she thanked them profusely, giving them a nearby address. They drove her home, making small, polite, conversation. But after a few minutes, silence overtook the vehicle. The driver asks if they reached the correct intersection, but when he turned to the back seat, the girl was gone. Vanished without a trace. When they reach the final address she gave them, an elderly couple greeted them at the door. They said that they didn't know of any girl... but their own daughter was killed in a car accident many years ago, just a few miles up the road."

The children's eyes all widened as they whispered to one another, seeking comfort and safety from each other.

"You make that story up?" I whispered, raising my eyebrow at him.

He just shook his head, winking.

"I think it's time you all went to bed, don't you?" Miss. Peregrine approached the circle, watching us all.

In pairs, the peculiars got up, mumbling a small 'goodnight' and heading towards their bedrooms where they would stay up late, imaging the stories they heard.

"Goodnight, Miss. Peregrine," I smiled, Enoch and I being the last to enter the house, his hand locked with mine as we climbed the stairwell.

The deadriser paused at my door, as if wanting to ensure that I entered safely.

"Night," I grinned, kissing him quickly.

"Sleep well, love," he nodded his head once, kissing my forehead, and shutting the door behind me as I entered.

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A/N:
Thank you so much for reading this chapter!
Those ghost stories aren't mine, credits to 'ThoughtCo' and 'Bustle'
26K  I M  S O  C O N F U S E D TY ALL SO SO SO MUCH
Any feedback is appreciated xxx