Chapter 3 Henry was pleased and dismayed at the same time that he had finally told someone about the ghost. It was a relief to admit it was real, and Eleanor deserved to know about the ghost before she moved into the cottage. But Fanny became the primary topic of conversation for the rest of the evening. Henry was forced to catalog every interaction and suspicion he had about Fanny. Eleanor would then judge how plausible it was to credit or blame Fanny for the lavender scent that lingered around the front door and the shampoo bottles rapidly emptying in the bathroom, and whether the action implied a spiritually malicious intent. Eleanor also insisted on renaming her to something less juvenile. It was with relief that Henry wished his sister a good night and went to bed. The next morning he found Eleanor in the sitting room, ensconced in the armchair in front of the chessboard, wrapped in a quilt and sleeping soundly. “Eleanor,” he said, gently touching her arm to wake her. She blinked and scrunched her face and yawned in the process of waking while Henry surveyed the board. “You moved the pieces,” he told her. He wasn't annoyed yet, but he thought he might become so. “I wanted to get her attention, see if I could talk to her,” Eleanor admitted groggily. Henry's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You did? What happened?” he demanded. “I saw her. She's real,” Eleanor said, stretching until the quilt dropped away. She hadn't even changed out of her clothes from yesterday. “But I couldn't understand her. I think we're going to need a ouija board or something.” Henry just stared at his sister. “Why do we need to understand her?” He and Fanny had been getting on quite well with their parallel lives… Parallel life and death. “She's a ghost, Henry,” she said as if that explained everything. “She's not supposed to be here anymore. We need to find out what has trapped her here and free her so she can move on.” He wanted to argue with Eleanor. What she said made sense in that it fit spooky stories told around the bonfire, but it was nonsense when compared to fact or science. Besides, Fanny had already died once. Asking how she might be destroyed a second time seemed like blatantly unfriendly behavior in a housemate. Rather than dig in his heels, however, he changed the subject. “Why don't you go take a quick shower and get changed into some clean clothes while I make breakfast. You said you wanted to leave by 10.” Eleanor took one quick look at her watch and dashed off to comply. Later, she was able to tell Henry nothing new about Fanny as they cut into their pancakes. She was still not done with her theories when Henry gathered her bag and put it in her car. As he watched her settle into the driver's seat, she looked at him seriously. “Get a ouija board,” she told him. “And then tell me all about it.” “Drive safe,” he said, “and text me when you get home.” .o8o. Deciding to humor Eleanor, Henry checked a few shops in town for occult paraphernalia before he picked up his groceries. Country towns weren't supposed to have ouija boards but one of the stores did, along with a few packs of tarot cards, sage bundles, charms, and candles. Henry bought some scented candles with the board as if to hide his true purchase amid the rest of it. The clerk made some comment about not leaving burning candles unattended and wished him a good day. At home, he packed away the chess set and set out the ouija board. He skimmed the instructions but mostly recalled what he'd seen in various scary movies, then went to work sanding the wainscoting in the dining room. That evening, after showering and eating, he settled in the sitting room and stared at the board, trying to make up his mind. He wanted to try it but he knew it wouldn't work. He wasn't fond of feeling stupid but he didn't want to disappoint his sister. He didn't want to banish the ghost, but maybe Fanny was finally ready to move on. Maybe he and Eleanor were the only ones who could see her because they were the only ones who could help her. Maybe it was time for Henry to get a new therapist and start actively working on his issues rather than inventing imaginary friends to make him feel better about himself. After a while, he lit the candles -- lavender, one of her favorite scents -- and pulled out his phone, determined to forget about all of it until he had a better idea. The plan worked. He got completely absorbed in the news and only stopped when something unexpected tickled his nose. Was that toast? Why did it suddenly smell like toast? Not that there was anything wrong with that! A local bakery set up a booth at the weekly farmer's market and Henry was currently addicted to their sourdough. He'd toast a thick slice of it and spread a layer of salted butter on it for breakfast usually, or add a bit of jam on top for an easy and satisfying dessert. But he hadn't made any today; Eleanor's surprise visit had disrupted his plans and he'd skipped the market entirely. He was out of bread, actually, so it should have been impossible. Was Fanny doing this, making it smell like something he liked just as he had lit the scented candles? Warily, he set his phone down and approached the ouija board. Nothing had changed since he had set it up, but he wasn't sure what he was expecting. In movies, the living humans always gathered around the board and called on the spirits to guide their hands. He sat down in the arm chair and pulled it closer to the table. With a deep sigh, he placed his hands on the planchette and rolled his shoulders. The planchette moved with his arms but not from any supernatural influence. Without Eleanor there to correct him, he opted to refer to his ghost by her usual name. “Fanny? Are you there?” he called to the empty room. He fought down the feelings of ridiculousness and asked again, more loudly. The candles didn't flicker and the house made no noise but just for the briefest moment, he felt the planchette tug under his fingers. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed and tried to chase after the tug. It was faint but eventually he found it hovering over the letter A. He felt the tug again and followed it to R. When the tug came again, it was almost easy to end up on E. A - R - E. “Are,” Henry said aloud. With another tug, he was going to the other side of the board to land on Y. If he and Fanny were going to spell out everything from are you there to good night, this was going to get tedious quickly. Without waiting for the next letter, Henry dragged the planchette to YES. Stillness hung for a bit and Henry wondered if Fanny could follow him the same way he could follow her. Then the planchette began to move again and Henry hoped the ghost knew to conserve her words. W - H - O. Aha! She was a fast learner. He smiled in concentration and dragged out H - E - N - R - Y - T - I - L - N - E - Y. If he moved slowly, he could feel the slight resistance of Fanny trailing after him. He paused for a moment to let Fanny read his letters then he sent back the same query: W - H - O. It was getting easier to follow her now. C - A - T - H - E - R - I - N - E - M - O - R - L - A - N - D. How was it possible that they both had four syllable names yet Fanny's was so long? “Catherine,” Henry repeated aloud. Eleanor would be pleased that they could stop thinking of her as Fanny now. “Catherine Morland.” He made a mental note to call his great aunt tomorrow to see if she had ever heard of the name. A - L - O - N - E, came the next question. He answered it with a succinct YES. It might have been foolish to admit that he was the only one there, but if she was hoping for more time with Eleanor, Catherine would need to wait until after final exams. Henry thought of his next question. Now that they were actually communicating, there was so much he wanted to know! He wondered when she had been born, how she had lived, how old she was when she died, and what still tethered her to the cottage. H - O - W - D - I - E - D, he asked through the planchette then waited. And waited. Perhaps she didn't know. Maybe it was the mystery that held her. He knew her name now; maybe his great aunt knew what had happened to Catherine Morland. If Henry could find out how she died, if he could tell her, maybe she'd find the peace and strength to move on. He tried to think of another terse question to ask when the planchette began to move again. It was jerky but the letters were unmistakable: D - R - O - W - N - E - D - P - O - N - D - M - U - R - D - E - R - E - D - W ---. Henry yanked his fingers off the ouija board when the words sunk in. The twitch sent the planchette rolling to the side and off the table where it clattered loudly on the floor. He stared at the board, wide-eyed and breathing hard like he had just witnessed something shocking. In a way he was shocked but it shouldn't -- couldn't -- compare to him witnessing an actual death. But hearing of one death brought his mother's own violent end to the forefront of his thoughts. Enough. That was enough for one night. He blew out the candles and left the room, leaving the planchette on the floor.https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131610#msg-131610Tue, 26 May 2026 03:08:52 +0100 Phorum 5.2.22 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131619#msg-131619 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131619#msg-131619 NN S Derbyshire Writers' GuildThu, 24 Jul 2025 12:18:25 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131613#msg-131613 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131613#msg-131613 LisaY Derbyshire Writers' GuildMon, 21 Jul 2025 07:50:11 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131612#msg-131612 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131612#msg-131612
NA summary]]> Graciela Derbyshire Writers' GuildMon, 21 Jul 2025 03:58:57 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131611#msg-131611 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131611#msg-131611 LisaY Derbyshire Writers' GuildMon, 21 Jul 2025 00:30:55 +0100 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131610#msg-131610 https://dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,131610,131610#msg-131610Chapter 3

Henry was pleased and dismayed at the same time that he had finally told someone about the ghost. It was a relief to admit it was real, and Eleanor deserved to know about the ghost before she moved into the cottage. But Fanny became the primary topic of conversation for the rest of the evening.

Henry was forced to catalog every interaction and suspicion he had about Fanny. Eleanor would then judge how plausible it was to credit or blame Fanny for the lavender scent that lingered around the front door and the shampoo bottles rapidly emptying in the bathroom, and whether the action implied a spiritually malicious intent. Eleanor also insisted on renaming her to something less juvenile. It was with relief that Henry wished his sister a good night and went to bed.

The next morning he found Eleanor in the sitting room, ensconced in the armchair in front of the chessboard, wrapped in a quilt and sleeping soundly.

“Eleanor,” he said, gently touching her arm to wake her.

She blinked and scrunched her face and yawned in the process of waking while Henry surveyed the board.

“You moved the pieces,” he told her. He wasn't annoyed yet, but he thought he might become so.

“I wanted to get her attention, see if I could talk to her,” Eleanor admitted groggily.

Henry's eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You did? What happened?” he demanded.

“I saw her. She's real,” Eleanor said, stretching until the quilt dropped away. She hadn't even changed out of her clothes from yesterday. “But I couldn't understand her. I think we're going to need a ouija board or something.”

Henry just stared at his sister. “Why do we need to understand her?” He and Fanny had been getting on quite well with their parallel lives… Parallel life and death.

“She's a ghost, Henry,” she said as if that explained everything. “She's not supposed to be here anymore. We need to find out what has trapped her here and free her so she can move on.”

He wanted to argue with Eleanor. What she said made sense in that it fit spooky stories told around the bonfire, but it was nonsense when compared to fact or science. Besides, Fanny had already died once. Asking how she might be destroyed a second time seemed like blatantly unfriendly behavior in a housemate.

Rather than dig in his heels, however, he changed the subject. “Why don't you go take a quick shower and get changed into some clean clothes while I make breakfast. You said you wanted to leave by 10.”

Eleanor took one quick look at her watch and dashed off to comply. Later, she was able to tell Henry nothing new about Fanny as they cut into their pancakes. She was still not done with her theories when Henry gathered her bag and put it in her car. As he watched her settle into the driver's seat, she looked at him seriously. “Get a ouija board,” she told him. “And then tell me all about it.”

“Drive safe,” he said, “and text me when you get home.”

.o8o.

Deciding to humor Eleanor, Henry checked a few shops in town for occult paraphernalia before he picked up his groceries. Country towns weren't supposed to have ouija boards but one of the stores did, along with a few packs of tarot cards, sage bundles, charms, and candles. Henry bought some scented candles with the board as if to hide his true purchase amid the rest of it. The clerk made some comment about not leaving burning candles unattended and wished him a good day.

At home, he packed away the chess set and set out the ouija board. He skimmed the instructions but mostly recalled what he'd seen in various scary movies, then went to work sanding the wainscoting in the dining room.

That evening, after showering and eating, he settled in the sitting room and stared at the board, trying to make up his mind. He wanted to try it but he knew it wouldn't work. He wasn't fond of feeling stupid but he didn't want to disappoint his sister. He didn't want to banish the ghost, but maybe Fanny was finally ready to move on. Maybe he and Eleanor were the only ones who could see her because they were the only ones who could help her. Maybe it was time for Henry to get a new therapist and start actively working on his issues rather than inventing imaginary friends to make him feel better about himself.

After a while, he lit the candles -- lavender, one of her favorite scents -- and pulled out his phone, determined to forget about all of it until he had a better idea.

The plan worked. He got completely absorbed in the news and only stopped when something unexpected tickled his nose.

Was that toast? Why did it suddenly smell like toast? Not that there was anything wrong with that! A local bakery set up a booth at the weekly farmer's market and Henry was currently addicted to their sourdough. He'd toast a thick slice of it and spread a layer of salted butter on it for breakfast usually, or add a bit of jam on top for an easy and satisfying dessert. But he hadn't made any today; Eleanor's surprise visit had disrupted his plans and he'd skipped the market entirely. He was out of bread, actually, so it should have been impossible.

Was Fanny doing this, making it smell like something he liked just as he had lit the scented candles?

Warily, he set his phone down and approached the ouija board. Nothing had changed since he had set it up, but he wasn't sure what he was expecting. In movies, the living humans always gathered around the board and called on the spirits to guide their hands.

He sat down in the arm chair and pulled it closer to the table. With a deep sigh, he placed his hands on the planchette and rolled his shoulders. The planchette moved with his arms but not from any supernatural influence.

Without Eleanor there to correct him, he opted to refer to his ghost by her usual name. “Fanny? Are you there?” he called to the empty room.

He fought down the feelings of ridiculousness and asked again, more loudly.

The candles didn't flicker and the house made no noise but just for the briefest moment, he felt the planchette tug under his fingers.

His mouth suddenly dry, he swallowed and tried to chase after the tug. It was faint but eventually he found it hovering over the letter A. He felt the tug again and followed it to R. When the tug came again, it was almost easy to end up on E.

A - R - E. “Are,” Henry said aloud.

With another tug, he was going to the other side of the board to land on Y. If he and Fanny were going to spell out everything from are you there to good night, this was going to get tedious quickly.

Without waiting for the next letter, Henry dragged the planchette to YES.

Stillness hung for a bit and Henry wondered if Fanny could follow him the same way he could follow her. Then the planchette began to move again and Henry hoped the ghost knew to conserve her words.

W - H - O.

Aha! She was a fast learner. He smiled in concentration and dragged out H - E - N - R - Y - T - I - L - N - E - Y. If he moved slowly, he could feel the slight resistance of Fanny trailing after him. He paused for a moment to let Fanny read his letters then he sent back the same query: W - H - O.

It was getting easier to follow her now. C - A - T - H - E - R - I - N - E - M - O - R - L - A - N - D. How was it possible that they both had four syllable names yet Fanny's was so long?

“Catherine,” Henry repeated aloud. Eleanor would be pleased that they could stop thinking of her as Fanny now. “Catherine Morland.” He made a mental note to call his great aunt tomorrow to see if she had ever heard of the name.

A - L - O - N - E, came the next question. He answered it with a succinct YES. It might have been foolish to admit that he was the only one there, but if she was hoping for more time with Eleanor, Catherine would need to wait until after final exams.

Henry thought of his next question. Now that they were actually communicating, there was so much he wanted to know! He wondered when she had been born, how she had lived, how old she was when she died, and what still tethered her to the cottage.

H - O - W - D - I - E - D, he asked through the planchette then waited.

And waited.

Perhaps she didn't know. Maybe it was the mystery that held her. He knew her name now; maybe his great aunt knew what had happened to Catherine Morland. If Henry could find out how she died, if he could tell her, maybe she'd find the peace and strength to move on.

He tried to think of another terse question to ask when the planchette began to move again. It was jerky but the letters were unmistakable: D - R - O - W - N - E - D - P - O - N - D - M - U - R - D - E - R - E - D - W ---.

Henry yanked his fingers off the ouija board when the words sunk in. The twitch sent the planchette rolling to the side and off the table where it clattered loudly on the floor. He stared at the board, wide-eyed and breathing hard like he had just witnessed something shocking. In a way he was shocked but it shouldn't -- couldn't -- compare to him witnessing an actual death. But hearing of one death brought his mother's own violent end to the forefront of his thoughts.

Enough. That was enough for one night. He blew out the candles and left the room, leaving the planchette on the floor.]]> NN S Derbyshire Writers' GuildSun, 20 Jul 2025 23:15:51 +0100