Page 28 of Souls We Rip

“God, grievances! There is no time to wash your bush of hair!” He floated to the bathroom, expecting me to follow.

I rushed to it, listening to his instructions, not wanting to delay my fate any longer.

“Warm, well, now lukewarm water in the bathtub. Cloths and soaps on the shelves. And clean garments on the stool,” the ghost instructed, his voice eerie.

“What stool?” I asked, not remembering it from my last visit.

Angrily, he swirled towards the small wooden chair, where two types of linen skirts, one ie embroidered with a red and orange floral pattern, wool socks, a red vest, a red girdle, and a loom-woven apron waited for me.

“Go, bathe!” he urged, his voice going up a notch.

I grabbed as fast as I could a soap and a cloth and climbed into the wooden bathtub. Making the bath quick, I washed my hair poorly, letting the air dry it.

Ignoring the earthy scent of the soap, which lingered on my skin, I got dressed. First the thinnest skirt and the ie. Next, the thickest skirt and the woollen socks. Then followed the vest, girdle and apron.

“These are yours, I assume,” the ghost said, my pair of cleaned opinci floating under my nose.

My hands were shaking as I grabbed them and fitted them on my feet. “Thank you!”

“Now hurry!” he begged, his translucent hands in prayer.

I rushed with Andrei by my side, the skin on my feet broken from the run yesterday. The ghost took a different turn by passing through a wall.

My heart pumped at the thought of hearing the Goat Man’s voice once more. To feel the caress of its whisper on my skin was against my beliefs. Where only light should be, something dark lurked. And I was scared of being the one who would succumb to it.

Inhaling the first breath of fresh air after a night in dampness was invigorating. The scent of the firs mixed with the one from the field sage that grew here and there. Its perfume clung to my clothes, bringing many happy memories of Angelica and me, running around with the children from the village on lanes, barefoot and with no care in the world.

The rosy hue of the sky seeped through my closed eyes, trying to take in as much light as possible.

“Let’s walk faster, human! The Goat Man will be furious with us.”

The ghost grabbed my hand and pulled me forward; the tingle was entirely unbearable. Although when I opened my eyes, I saw my pale hands through its transparent skin. I squirmed inside, but kept my mouth shut, not wanting to offend him.

“How did you die?” I worded, more out of boredom than curiosity.

“Can it not be a story for another time?” he whined, his floating figure passing through fallen tree trunks, making me trip.

My skin broke, specks of blood dripping on my pale legs. The skirts were stained, their whiteness decayed.

I let the ghost be, promising to myself that I would ask about his old life later.

The fir trees were taller than the ones in the forest near my village, their needles losing the battle with time, decorating the ground. Mist soon covered our legs, creating an eerie atmosphere. Hidden by all the trees, neither the sun could get there.

My head turned to the cave. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go back alone. The forest narrowed the path; the grass was too tall, and the sky seemed too low.

The ghost pulled me further until we were met by a clean path. On each side of it, tall and massive candles were lit. There were dozens of them, lighting the way to a small round table with two chairs.

Where it stood.

“Go, girl! You’re late already!”

The ghost circled me and pushed me forward, making me stumble and fall to my knees. I checked the small wounds from earlier, wiping the dirt with my sweaty palms.

I looked forward.

The Goat Man stood still, near its horse, the latter showing its fangs. My heart clenched, but I pushed down my fears and walked with my head held high. Eyes glued on the candles, I felt the Goat Man's gaze on me.

After all, this was my bidding. I could not undo the bargain I made with him.