Ghosts of the Future

Smallest Brush

It's after school, and I'm taking a stroll in the woods. My mom is raving mad again, and I don't want to be near her. The woods are peaceful and calming.

Rumors say that wolves roam these woods. I don't believe that, though. If there were wolves, then there would be hunters. Wolf pelts make good money, especially if they were as big as rumors said.

I kick a stick deeper into the trees, laughing to myself. Horse-sized wolves in the woods: ridiculous. Just like Lily being a ghost. Or Saira actually liking me back.

I kick a rock, and hear it hit something solid, something that grunts. I turn towards the sound, and see Saira walk out of the foliage, holding my rock between her fingers.

She folds her arms and cocks her hip, looking at me with a level expression. "Is this yours?" she asks, holding out my rock. I nod, trying not to smile, and take it from her. Even the smallest brush of fingers has my pulse racing.

I throw the rock back into the trees, in the direction I came from. Saira watches its path, and I watch her. All day, I haven't been able to get the image of the black mark across her arm out of my mind. I want to think that I imagined it, but my imagination is limited. I couldn't imagine the thing I saw.

Saira is watching me with her hawk eyes. She can read my mind, practically smell my fear and worry. Her expression, as guarded as a castle gate, reveals nothing, while my eyes probably reveal everything.

"What are you doing here, Max?" Saira asks, her voice slightly husky. My heart beats faster, blood rushing through my body. My brain says that the red ringing her eyes is normal, and even if her cheeks are slightly too pale, she's still beautiful. The bottom of her shirt is torn, revealing the tiniest sliver of white skin, which seems to fill my vision.

Saira clears her throat, her eyes narrowing. I realize I must have been staring, and quickly look at a tree. Just not at her. Not at the dark-haired girl that reminds me of Lily.

"My mom," I say, speaking to the tree. Saira doesn't react, so my mouth keeps going. "She has these rampages. No one knows why. We don't want to commit her to a hospital because she fights like a demon whenever we try to take her anywhere. She can't get to sleep, either. We think that she's an insomniac. Which would explain her anger; she's just tired."

I stop myself, looking over at Saira, who hasn't moved a muscle. I wait for her to laugh, to tell me to leave her alone, to walk away and leave me alone. But she does none of that. She simply watches me, then turns around and walks into the woods without a word. Her finger crooks over her shoulder in the silent gesture of come.

I follow, not knowing where the hell we're going. Saira weaves between trees and bushes as if part of the forest herself, while I have to go around. She's always in my sight, though: her black-brown hair catching sunlight, her jade eyes flashing, sunbeams reflecting off her glasses.

Finally, Saira stops, making me almost crash into her. She looks out around a clearing, which has a lake in it. Nothing else remarkable about it, really, except for a dock on one end.

Saira gestures for me to follow, so I do. She crouches by the lake, never touching the water, so I do the same. In a clump beside the water are flowering purple plants with small petals. Next to them is a clump of white flowers shaped like stars.

Saira picks of few of each flower, and hands them to me. She keeps looking around her, like she's afraid of getting caught. "Lavender and jasmine. They're flowers that help you sleep," Saira says, plucking a few other flowers and plants.

Her hand is full of green leaves, which she presses into my hands. "Basil, rosemary, and orchids help better your mood. They're not native to Missouri, but neither are lavender and jasmine. This lake is special. It helps people. I don't know why, though," Saira says, a slight frown on her face.

The trees rustle, and I see a flash of unnatural gold. Saira is up on her feet and pulling me into the trees immediately, though when I glance back at the clearing, I see a man with silver-gold hair and bright brown-blue eyes kneeling near the lake, at the patch of flowers that we were just at. He looks up at me, meeting my eyes, and a slithery snake of fear wraps around my ribs, freezing my lungs.

The man's eyes are the color of autumn leaves, of all the several shades of gold, bronze, orange, yellow, and brown. They're ringed in the brightest summer blue, and the pupils are reflective, like a cat's. Or a wolf's.

I turn back around to follow Saira through the woods. She leads me back to the place where we met, and stops.

"You know your way back," she says, turning to me. I look down at her hand on my wrist, and she looks down as well. Quick as a viper, she lets go and steps back, half-melting into the shadows.

"Don't go," I say, but Saira shakes her head. "Don't get close to me, Max," she whispers as she steps back another step. Only her bright eyes shine; it's amazing how well she can dissolve into the shadows with only two steps. "I'm a disease. People fall to their knees around me. If you want to live, stay away," she says. Then, like a ghost, she disappears into the trees.

I stand there for a few minutes, staring at the place where Saira was. Then, I notice something on the ground. I kneel and pick up the strip of black cloth, wet with a dark liquid. When I bring it to my nose, the scent of blood fills my nostrils.

Fear and pain flash through me, as bright and sharp as lightning. I stand, the blood-soaked piece of shirt in my hands, and head for my home.