Dont go out, children
What were you doing out there? the mother asks, staring at Emily as she comes back from a walk.
Emily looks into the bathroom mirror. Theres a strand of cobweb in her hair. She pulls off her jeans, and an acorn falls out of a pocket. She scoops it up and hurries to her bedroom, slipping the acorn under her pillow.
Go wash up, your dads coming home soon and well have dinner, her mother says.
Emily dives into the bath, feeling no appetite at all.
Scrolling on my phone is bad, strolling outside is bad too, she mutters gloomily.
Her mother, hearing the thought, shouts from the kitchen, If you behave properly on the street you wont get tangled in webs!
Emily fills the tub and adds bubble foam.
She thinks her mum is right, but wandering the streets alone is boring. The thought of the two old ladies she heard arguing earlier in the shop only adds to the unease.
Mrs. Davenport, theres a strange presence in that house again! one whispers in the queue at the corner store.
The word that carries an oddly eerie tone. Emily doesnt catch the second ladys replyshes distracted by the cashier.
The cashier rings up her groceries, hands her a receipt, and says to the woman ahead, You should tell the police.
Emily realises the cashier is a local and knows whats happening.
Police? What can they do about a ghost? a voice behind her snaps.
Emily packs the bag and steps out of the shop. On the doorstep she spots the two women gesturing wildly. She rolls her eyesa ghost, really, in the 21st century?and pushes the conversation from her mind.
That evening she steps onto her balcony.
The house was built just a few years ago. The neighboring fivestorey blocks, a couple of hundred metres away, are about thirty years old, with a small convenience store where the old ladies chat about spooks. The surrounding area is still under development; the streets are halffinished, but the flats windows look out over a row of mature trees, and the constant roar of construction on the nearby tower blocks is barely audible.
The trees werent always there. The plot was once meant to be a park, then plans changed, some trees were felled and apartments erectedincluding the tower where Emilys parents bought their flat. A few poplars remain, separating the new homes from a cluster of very old buildings that were slated for demolition but were saved for their historic value and now sit behind a tall fence.
Emily peers over the treetops. She can just make out the roofs of the ancient house.
Could that be an old manor from before the war? she wonders.
She recalls the shop conversation. It must be a ghost in there, she jokes to herself, they wouldnt live in a tower block.
The first creature that springs to mind is a witch. Emily imagines a witchs broom perched on the roof and giggles.
Emily, dinners ready! her mother calls.
They eat, watch a film, chat with her father. Later she argues with her parents about school. They want to move her to the nearby primary school so she wont have to travel far. Emily wants to stay at her old school where all her friends are; shes tired of being the only one wandering alone in the summer.
The new school will have friends too, and youll be able to sleep in later, her mother counters, but Emily whines until they finally send her to bed, promising to think about it.
Before sleep she steps onto the balcony again. She looks up at the dark canopy of trees, then notices a faint glint in the nightone flash, then another, then a thirdright where she saw the old roofs earlier, as if someone were signalling.
She squints, but the darkness swallows the light.
Emily, time for bed!
Im going, she replies.
She waits a few more minutes, sees nothing, and convinces herself it was just imagination.
The next morning Emily wakes to find her parents already at work. She sighsanother long day ahead. Visiting friends would be nice, but none of the girls are in town; some are at the seaside, others with grandparents. Emilys family just moved, so theres no sea to escape to, just an empty house.
She frowns, steps onto the balcony after breakfast, and wonders what to do. The fivestorey blocks hold no appeal; the newly paved streets are still a ways off.
Then the shops gossip pops back into her mind: A ghostwhy not check that house? She decides shes fed up staying inside.
She pulls on her jeans, digs out an old pair of sneakers, and, almost dancing, darts down from the twentieth floor. The lift is out of service, but she doesnt mind.
She rushes out of the building, circles it, and heads toward the trees.
You where going, miss? a voice calls.
She turns. Behind her stands a croneher eyes sparkling oddly, her hair wild.
Emily freezes, shakes her head, and watches the woman. The crone seems to grow younger before Emilys eyes.
Maybe I shouldnt be listening to the old ladies in the shop, she thinks.
Where are you off to, miss? the woman repeats.
Just taking a walk, Emily snaps back, whats the problem?
Shes never liked talking to strangers; her parents warn her that strangers might take her away. At five years old, shes not scared of being abducted, but shes wary of new people.
You can go, just dont get lost, the woman says, eyeing her oddly.
Lost? Emily repeats, puzzled by the word.
I wont get lost, Emily replies, and walks down a narrow path.
The crone watches her, then smiles.
Emily walks about five metres and looks backno one is there. She shakes the woman from her mind and continues.
The trees close in on all sides. She looks right, then left. Its strange: when she looked from the balcony the trees were in neat rows, but now she cant see any rows at all.
She turns around. The path that seemed straight ahead is now blocked by more trees. It feels as if the ground is vanishing beneath her. She steps back a few metres; the path reappears, as if urging her toward the house.
She remembers the shops comment: What a nuisance.
She laughs at the idea of a ghost again and presses on deeper into the thicket. The trail narrows into a barely visible track, as if no one has walked here for years.
After a couple of minutes a massive fallen tree blocks her wayan enormous baobablike trunk. She cant climb over it, so she tries to go around, but dense hedges hug both sides of the trail, leaving no room to slip through.
Where did such huge trees come from? Should I turn back? she wonders, hearing a voice in her head urging her to retreat.
No way, she decides, I dont believe in ghosts, especially not in daylight.
She folds onto her stomach, trying to crawl under the lowhanging branch. For a moment she feels stuck, then jerks free and scrambles out, shaking off leaves.
A gruff voice calls, Persistent girl
Emily looks up. Standing before her is the same crone she met at the edge of the woods, and beside her looms a gigantic black cat.
Emily blinks, rubs her eyes. Neither the woman nor the cat disappear.
Hello, she stammers, confused.
The cat flicks its ears and says, Persistent.
Emily rubs her eyes againcats dont talk, she thinks. The woman smirks, as if amused by Emilys disbelief.
The cat steps forward. Its hugelike a giant domestic cat, not quite a lion, but three times the size of a regular tabby, with a sleek black coat.
It yawns, showing massive teeth, then puffs up, making its fur stand on end, and hisses softly.
The cat fixes its gaze on Emily, but she feels no fear. She reaches out and strokes its head.
The cat recoils slightly, then hisses again.
Scary? it asks. Emily shakes her headno.
It seems disappointed she isnt frightened. It looks at the woman.
What now? the cat purrs.
Emily watches the odd pair, halfexpecting them to converse. The cat leaps onto a nearby tree and claws at the bark, growling.
She feels a pang of annoyance. If the woman were angry, Emily would understand, but the cat is just angry.
She tells the cat, Fine, be angry, but Im leaving.
The cat arches its back, eyes her sideways.
Really not scared at all? it growls.
Emily cant help but laugh. Not a drop of fear!
The cat seems to soften a bit, then stops clawing at the tree and looks at her obliquely.
Never scared, eh? it says.
Emily expects another hiss, but the cat relaxes.
Good job, it purrs.
It rubs its massive head against her. Emily pets the cats huge head again.
Want a scratch behind the ear? the cat asks, closing its eyes.
Emily scratches the spot, and the cat sighs contentedly.
Lets go, it declares, nudging her forward.
Emily looks around. The woman is gone.
Where? she asks.
The house is just ahead, the cat replies, nudging her with its nose.
They walk along a path that suddenly widens, the trees parting to reveal a low fence made of tall, fivemetre logs, each with a pointed top.
Looks like a fort, Emily jokes.
She glances at the cat.
Filming a movie here? she asks.
The cat hisses, Brrr, lets move.
It strides along the fence, stopping a few steps later.
Come in.
Emily looks surprised, then sees the gap where the logs seem to melt away. She shakes her head in disbelief. The cat darts through the opening, and she follows. Once through, the logs reappear behind her. She touches one; its solid wood. Near the fence she spots another acorn on the ground. She pockets it, wondering how to get back. She turns to the cat.
Will you show me the way? she asks.
The cat looks bewildered, then replies, I might be able to
She decides to press on, intrigued by where shes ended up.
The courtyard they enter is dim, as if dusk had fallen despite the late afternoon. Emily walks forward, the cat leading her to a high balcony. The cat leaps onto it, pushes open a door, and a flood of bright light pours out. Emily steps after it, hesitates, then pushes the door fully open.
The door is made from a single thick slab of oak, its surface carved with intricate patterns.
Emily runs her fingers over the carvings and steps through the threshold into a spacious room.
Dining hall, a voice whispers in her mind.
The hall is bright, though no lamps are visible. The room is enormous, with a long wooden table at its centre, surrounded by carved wooden benches. Candles flicker in tall candelabras, casting a warm glow.
A short elderly man with a long beard appears.
Do you like it, miss? he asks.
Its wonderful! Emily exclaims.
The cat, perched on a bench, meows, Truthful.
The old man nods, smiling.
Dont be shy, have a seat, he says.
Emily smooths the carved bench and sits. The table, initially empty, now spreads with plates of foodvarious pastries, pies, and a steaming bowl of soup.
Help yourself, the old man offers.
Emily places a slice of cake on her plate. The cat grabs a whole pastry, devours it in one bite.
She tastes the cake; its made of unfamiliar berries, but its delicious. She washes it down with a tall goblet of something sweet and feels completely satisfied.
More? the cat asks, but Emily shakes her head.
Thank you, Ive had enough, she says.
The old man comments, Not greedy.
Emily looks out a window; outside is pitch black, as if night has fallen instantly.
How long have I been here? she whispers, a hint of panic rising. Mum must be worried!
She rises, thanks the host politely.
Thank you, I must go home. Mum will be anxious, she says.
The old man smiles, Brave, kind, generous. Ill grant you a wish, child. Ask for anything.
Emily hesitates. She has always wanted a kitten. Her parents promised one once they move into a new flat, but the renovation drags on.
I want a kitten, she says, sighing.
Just that? he asks, No exotic jewels, silks, or magic mirrors?
Emily laughs. I dont need jewels or fancy clothes for school.
No more, the old man replies. A kitten you shall have. He turns to the cat, who finishes its feast and leaps to the door, opening it wide.
Come on out!
Emily steps through, but the hall vanishes. She finds herself on a path lit by soft golden light. Beyond a line of trees she sees her own house. She spins aroundno cat in sight. She rubs her eyes.
Was that a dream? she wonders, tasting the sweet drink from the carved goblet still on her tongue. She checks her pocket; the acorn is still there.
She sighs and heads home.
Later, the doorbell rings. Emily jumps out of the bathtub, delighted. Dads home, she says, wrapping a towel around herself.
Her father enters, holding a ginger kitten that looks as orange as autumn leaves.
Ill call him Basil, Emily declares, cuddling the kitten.
She spends the whole evening with Basil, who behaves as if hes always lived in the flatexploring rooms, drinking milk, purring loudly.
When bedtime comes, the kitten jumps onto her pillow and meows softly.
Goodnight, Emily, she whispers, and the bedroom door shuts.
The kitten continues to purr.
Emily drifts off to sleep, hearing a faint voice, Dont lose the acorn.
Don’t Go, Children…
