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The day of her parents’ funeral is a day she never imagined would happen. Not so soon anyway. Ophelia hasn’t even finished elementary school.
But it’s true.
Her parents are dead and gone and they’ll never come back.
It hurts.
There aren’t a lot of people present at the funeral. A few stray friends, colleagues and a sombre older lady Ophelia has never seen before. Some of her classmates are there too, dressed in a little black suit or a dress, just like her.
It’s a simple affair.
A few of her parent’s friends come forward to say something, Ophelia listens but doesn’t hear. Too fixated on the two coffins covered by flowers and the photo on the table in the middle. They look younger there. It’s an older photo, from when Ophelia was still a baby. She remembers that one since it used to hang on the wall in their living room.
The funeral, Ophelia muses, is about just as short as her parents’ life. At the end, her parents’ favourite song plays through the speakers as the people pay their respects for the last time.
Johnny squeezed her hand reassuringly and promises to ask his parents once more if she could live with them before their teacher leads him away. Johnny's parents are kind, but they’re not hers.
Ophelia remains alone.
Alone because the officiant and the older woman do not occupy any space in her mind until they’re both standing right next to her. The officiant is a heavy-set man of middle-age with a kind face whose hair is going grey at the edges. As for the woman, now that she’s closer Ophelia can take a better look at her and notes that the woman is similar in appearance to her mom but noticeably older.
The officiant greets the child carefully and introduces the woman as her aunt, Olive. A sister of her mother. Finally, it clicks and Ophelia stares mutely at the two.
Olive doesn’t look at her as the man talks and refrains from saying anything even as he tells Ophelia that she will be staying with her last remaining family member and that he hopes they can get through this hardship together as a family.
A few tears escape Ophelia and spill down her cheeks. The officiant rushed to pat her cheeks dry with a handkerchief, mumbling reassurances and petting her head while her aunt remains locked in place, like a lifeless statue.
The girl’s eyes shift back to her parents’ coffins and for a moment, she wishes she was there with them.
They’re both silent during the taxi ride to her aunt’s home. It’s not her home, not yet and it probably never will be.
She doesn’t want it to be.
Two packed suitcases contain all of Ophelia’s possessions; mostly clothes, books and toys. They’re too heavy for Ophelia to carry on her own but her aunt, despite her frail appearance, hauls them out of the trunk without difficulty and carries them inside.
Ophelia hurries after her, shoes rapidly hitting the cobblestone path only to stop and stare at the vast amount of gravestones in the yard. Started, the girl takes a step back and almost trips over her own feet but remains upright as her aunt catches her by the arm at the last moment.
‘Careful now, dear,’ Olive speaks and it’s the first time Ophelia hears her voice. Brittle and toneless. But her hand is warm and steady on Ophelia’s before it retracts and takes the warmth with it.
Olive scans over her niece quickly, looking for any signs of injury and seemingly satisfied resumed her way towards the front door.
After casting another look at the eerie graveyard Ophelia follows after her, shivering.
Her aunt’s house is completely devoid of warmth, with heavy stone walls and a sparse amount of furniture. And what there is to be found is old and dusty, showing obvious signs of wear and tear. As Ophelia follows the old woman through the house, she’s dismayed to note that there’s no television in what she presumes is the living room.
‘You’ll get his old room.’ Her aunt says as she opens a door to reveal a room equipped with a children’s bed, a dark dresser and an old-looking dollhouse. This one is just as cold as the others but has a window with heavy-looking curtains in a deep red colour.
His?
Is she talking about another child?
Ophelia has the question laying on the tip of her tongue but her guardian has already left the room, leaving her niece’s suitcases next to the bed. The girl doesn’t know if she’s supposed to follow but does it anyway, not wanting to be left alone in that dreary room.
She locates her aunt in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. Feeling ill at ease Ophelia takes a seat at the dining table. It is smaller than the one that had home and bare of pencil drawings made by a children’s hand.
If she were at home it would be dinnertime right now. Her dad would be in the kitchen cooking and Ophelia would be helping her mother set the table. Ophelia’s eyes sting at the memory. She doesn’t have the time to actually cry however, as the table suddenly starts levitating and startles her badly.
The girl shoots away from the table with a cry of fear. From the kitchen her aunt comes in and fixes the piece of furniture with a stern look, ‘Rigor, dear, you are scaring the poor child. Go play your pranks somewhere else.’
Ophelia can only watch in morbid fascination as the table slowly lowers itself back to the floor and a transparent figure resembling an older man jumps out. The ghostly visage is twisted with remorse but her aunt remains adamant. ‘Out of my sight, now.’ The ghost hangs its head and fades away.
Olive mumbles something before turning her attention to her young niece. ‘The spirits are quite restless, it’s best to be strict with them.’ And with that, the woman disappears back into the kitchen leaving Ophelia shaking.
Dinner is spent in relenting quietness. Olive doesn’t eat with her, just sits at the table watching Ophelia push around the food on her plate, having no actual appetite to speak of but she ends up eating a little bit just to try and avoid her aunt’s staring gaze. The thoughts of the past are annoyingly present inside her mind and Ophelia silently wishes to be back at her own home together with her parents.
She’s already in bed with brushed teeth and a teddy bear tucked in next to her when her aunt surprises Ophelia with her presence.
The woman closes the door behind her and sits down on the edge of her bed with a book. The cover reads 32 Grave & Counting. Olive sees her look and is quick to assure her, ‘Don’t worry, this is a children’s book. I’m certain you’ll love it.’
Ophelia highly doubts it but doesn’t protest, for the way the woman strokes the cover fondly piques her attention. 'It was written by a great man, perhaps you'll meet him one day.' Olive opens the book and starts to read.
The young girl pretends to be asleep after a few pages and Ophelia can literally feel her aunt watching her as the woman turns off the lights. It persists to be eerily quiet as she remains there for a few moments before eventually walking out of the room and closing the door behind her.
Ophelia does not open her eyes until the sound of her aunt's footsteps is far away. She doesn't want to sleep just yet. The nightmares are far too unpleasant.
‘You miss your parents. And so do I. But don’t fret, for they’ll be with us again soon.’ Her aunt says to her one Sunday morning during breakfast.
Ophelia, who has just stabbed a piece of toast with a fork, halts and gives her aunt a questioning look.
It's been about two weeks so far that she has lived with her only remaining family member. And in those two weeks, Olive just seemed to get more and more eccentric. Ophelia often found the woman muttering to herself, sitting outside near the graveyard staring ahead for hours or scolding misbehaving ghosts.
Talking about these ghosts, Ophelia had found out her aunt's home was significantly haunted. Every evening just after 7 in the P.M spirits would rise from their graves and float around the house levitating furniture, possessing Ophelia's toys and scaring the child at every opportunity.
After five days of constant frights, the girl learned to remain blank-faced when faced with a mischievous ghost and soon the guests from beyond grew bored of their childish pranks.
Now the only thing she feared was the other living human in the house. The old woman who was so close to her by blood yet also a complete stranger.
Olive smiles thinly but doesn't clarify.
Ophelia finds out what she means the next day when she returns from school.
Two new graves have been added to her aunt's makeshift graveyard.
The soils are still fresh and bare of gravestones since the ground would be too soft to hold their weight. Instead, they are placed next to graves in preparation. In a month, they'll take their rightful place.
There's a headache brewing between her ears as Ophelia comes closer, combined with a nagging feeling of unease in her stomach that seems to spread all over her body.
Deep down, she knows. But she doesn't want to believe it. Not until Ophelia sees it with her own eyes.
The girl is close enough that she can make out the words on both gravestones.
Willow Nigmos Creon Nigmos
Ophelia’s fingers uncurl and her bag drops to the ground, spilling stationery and books over the freshly tilted soil.
Ophelia screams. No sound comes out. Her aunt's arms engulf her from behind in a cold embrace. 'I told you they'd be with us again soon.'