Shara

They said our town was cursed. 

I remember the time I first heard the legend of Bricton; I was twelve years old and playing with other kids around the neighbourhood. We were daring each other to jump from different crumbling stone walls and to jump over the biggest puddles. Most of us wore sweaters that were big enough to fit at least one other person inside. Our rubber boots always had a habit of coming off as we jumped in a puddle. 

“They say the town is dying,” a loud boy announced to the group from the top of a moss covered wall. 

“Who is they?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. 

The loud boy shrugged, jumping from the wall before darting off with another boy to play tag. 

Another boy came up to me, looking grim. “Once upon a time,” he started, “The town was ruled by an angry warlock. He had all the churches built to worship him, but no one ever attended. To punish all the people, he left and cast a spell so no one would ever come to the town again.”

Everyone sighed and rolled their eyes.

“They say it’s the stranger,” one of the girls whispered to another, “I heard he brought the curse to the town. He steals young girls in the night and does a ritual with their dead bodies.”

“That’s all lies,” I said. “The stranger doesn’t do anything.”

Not so long ago, a mysterious man wandered into Bricton. At first, he was just another person in the town. Us kids would see him walking to and from the market square. Pa said he saw the stranger at the pub, chatting up the bartender, the locals, and pretty much anyone. 

“He seems fine to me,” I stated loudly. I’d never seen him do anything but what everyone else did in town.

“They say he’s a wizard, or a ghost. Something unnatural,” said the boy. 

I stomped up to him. “That’s stupid! Nothing’s gone wrong here, so how do you know it’s cursed?”

He turned towards me. “Traders don’t come here anymore, outsiders don’t go to church.”

“So?”

He pointed at the sky. “Have you ever seen it rain?”

“No.”

“Then why are there giant puddles everywhere?”

---

At dinner that evening, Pa came home all flustered. 

“What happened, dear?” Ma asked him as she took his patchy brown coat. 

“That stranger. He got into a fight with Jim,” Pa answered as he sat down at the kitchen table with me.

“Who started it?” I asked as a swirled around the mashed potatoes on my plate. 

“Jim did. He kept saying that the stranger was ruining the town. Jim threatened him.”

“But, the stranger hasn’t done anything wrong,” I said indignantly. 

Pa nodded. “I’m just worried about the effect he’ll have on the kids.” 

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “He doesn’t even come near us.” 

Ma clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head. “I saw him talking to Lily Evers one morning. She’s only fifteen.” 

“What happened with the fight?” I asked, trying to divert the conversation back. 

“The stranger just left. He looked angry, though.”

Ma seemed to pay no attention, and put her hand on her forehead. “What will we do, Shara’s almost thirteen. What if the stranger takes a liking to her.”

“I’m right here, Ma.”

Ma and Pa looked at each other, using their secret language I didn’t understand. I just frowned and shoved a forkful of potatoes into my mouth. Even if the stranger tried to talk to me, I doubted we’d have anything interesting to say to each other. The only appeal he had for gossip was his “newness” and mystery.

After a few minutes of silent conversation, Pa looked at me with stern eyes. “I don’t want you going out to play with the other kids, anymore. You will help your mom around the house during the day.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in Pa’s eyes made me decide against it. With a silent nod, I ate the last of the potatoes and excused myself from the dinner table. 

My bed made a satisfying groan as I threw myself down onto it. They couldn’t make me stay home, they weren’t the bosses of me. Frustrated tears stung in my eyes and a rubbed them away.

From the bed I could see the world outside my window. It was dark, the sky twinkled with tiny sparks and the town twinkled with windows coming alight. Without another thought, I stood and walked over the window. I opened it slowly, listening for any sound of my parents’ approach. The tiniest of squeaks from the window made me freeze, but my parents didn’t appear. 

I remembered last summer when I used to sneak out to see Billy. He had been my best friend until his family moved away. He always came to my window and hit it with a pebble or two. Together, we would run through the quiet streets, laughing to ourselves for being so clever. My parents never did find out. 

It was easy enough to slip out of the window and I hit the ground with very little noise. I crept away from the house. A small breeze seem to guide me down the road, towards a loan bench under a lamppost. 

Sitting on the bench was a man wearing a black trench coat and black heavy boots.

I stood there watching him for a moment, wondering if it truly was him. I approached slowly, noticing that, under the light, he looked a lot younger than I thought he was. I didn’t ask questions, nor did I want to. I sat beside him without a word. 

“I didn’t cause the business to die,” he said to no one in particular without turning his head or looking at me. Up close, he looked younger than I’d originally thought. He didn’t have the deep lines on his forehead like Pa and there was a child-like wonder in his gaze.

I didn’t say anything. Should I be scared? I thought. I didn’t feel scared. “Are you going to steal me away?” I asked, trying to ignore the shake in my voice.

He laughed as pulled his hands from his pockets and rested them on his lap. “No,” he said.

“Did you curse us?” I asked, as a sort of timid feeling crept into my chest.

“This town was cursed before I came here,” he said, taking a few breaths before continuing. “As long as people from the outside consider this place good enough for them, it’ll stay intact.”

“Other cities don’t like us, though,” I stated, matching his posture. “Hardly anyone comes here anymore and lots of people are moving away.”

“The people will slowly disappear. The town will be empty. Haunted.”

“That’s a lie. Just like all the boys say. It’s not true.”

“Why would I be lying, child?” His eyes held a sincerity I could not deny. 

“If the town is cursed, what are you doing here?”

“I’m a type of a ‘caretaker’, to keep this place alive,” he finally looked at me and smiled. 

“What if I don’t want to disappear?” I asked, gripping the bench beneath me as if it was an anchor holding me in reality. 

His smile became bigger. “You could become a caretaker like me.”

---

Chapter 1

Sophie

My cousin Rose was getting married in Old Bricton. 

This might not seem significant but, for anyone who lived in the surrounding towns, it was. Old Bricton was a local legend. The town never made the news, though it was talked about. Whatever we heard, it was usually another business going bankrupt, or the plans to demolish a church. The plans never amounted to anything.

Old Bricton was a labyrinth of cobblestone streets and stone buildings, looking much too old to be standing. Some streets were so narrow you could lift your arms and run your fingers along opposite walls, while some were so wide, they allowed thirty people to stand side by side with breathing room. 

I ran my fingers along a cold brick wall, as my mother hurried me along towards the centre of town. 

“Be careful not to get your dress dirty,” she said as she marched along, the click of her heels echoing. She didn’t look at her surroundings, but kept her eyes fixed on a point ahead of her.

The day before the wedding, my father went on a “sudden business meeting” with his new attractive boss. He was hoping to get a “promotion.” So, it was just me and Mom walking through the streets of Old Bricton ourselves. 

“Careful of that puddle!”

I stopped mid-stride and looked down at my feet. Sadly, my mother’s idea of a puddle was a tiny splash of water. I looked up at the sky and practically clear except for a few wispy things.

“Did it rain earlier?” I asked.

She shook her head. “It’s been sunny all week, you know that.” She didn’t seem to notice that she had just told me to watch for puddles. 

I examined the rain-darkened brick around me. The buildings and the roads were like trees soaked after a storm. Even small patches of fuzzy moss poked out from corners. It had been raining, somehow, though I knew Mom was right about the weather.

The centre of Old Bricton wasn’t what you’d expect. There were almost no shops, too many inns and an over-abundance of churches. The churches were ancient stone giants, standing five-hundred feet tall. Each embodied the town; crumbling, but still standing against all odds.

We arrived at an intersection with four towering churches on either corner. Each was large enough to take ones breath away, if given the chance. Before I had a moment to look, I was pulled into a dark and widely detailed cathedral. 

Everyone was there. My aunts and uncles stood around awkwardly, making conversation and trying to forget where they were. My female cousins stood in a corner, all dressed in pastels; soft and light colours. They looked at me and raised their eyebrows. 

I looked down at my dress. It certainly wasn’t a rosy pink or a soft lavender. It was long, shimmering gold. Much more bold than my cousins would dare.

Even with the sun coming in the high windows, the nave seemed to swallow light. It had the potential to be beautiful, but it was too dark to see. Something else also caught my attention and caused the hairs on my arms to stand. The ceiling was hundreds of feet high, yet everyone’s voices were muted and caused no echo. 

“When you get married, Sophie,” Mom began as we walked deeper into the Cathedral, “the ceremony will be held in that charming church in our neighborhood. It has so much more character.”

I didn’t respond but silently shook my head. Mom didn’t see as she was a few steps ahead, nor did she understand how wrong she was about me and the church. The one she labeled “charming” was a 50-year-old mid-century megachurch monstrosity without a smidge of character in it. But it was familiar and safe. That’s what mattered. 

Mother dragged me into a room at the back where cousin Rose was getting ready, insisting that we had to help. Rose was already dressed when we arrived, and just about ready anyway. 

She looked at Mother then me, then gave a knowing smile. Of all my cousins, she was the one I was closest to. We had a deep understanding and a love for all things odd and extraordinary; including this town and all its churches.

“Why don’t you go exploring?” Rose said as she walked up to me in her sparkling white dress.

I shook my head. “Mother would kill me if I left, and I’d probably get lost.” Not as if it was a bad thing necessarily, but if I was gone for more than five minutes, I’d be in so much trouble.  

She patted my shoulder. “Go on. I can keep your mom busy for a while.”

I got up from my chair by the door as Rose went to distract my mother. Wasting no time, I slipped out of the room. I looked back at Mom in time to see her chatting with my aunt, unaware that her only daughter was leaving.

The inner hallways of the cathedral were much darker than the rooms occupied by the wedding. I had to keep my hand on one wall so I didn’t run into it. 

A tiny breath of a draft danced along my arm, ushering me further into the building. My hand found a wooden railing and my foot found a staircase. I eased onto the first step, the wood underneath it groaned and creaked, but felt sturdy. 

I heard noise above me and stopped. Looking up, and a tiny window gave me just enough light to see the flight of stairs winding up. It looked as if there was a shadow standing a few flights up. 

I took off my shoes and then padded up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as I could in case someone was actually there. 

Quick footsteps echoed down to me, moving upward. 

I attempted to follow, taking two stairs at a time. My dress limited my speed and I silently cursed it. By the time I reached the top the landing was empty, but there was only one door in front of me. 

The door opened slowly with a soft squeak. I poked my head into the room, but all I could see was dust hovering in mid-air. It didn’t float to the floor like dust would; it swirled around slowly, as if it were dancing. 

As soon as I stepped into the room, all the dust fell to the floor like snow. My feet left footprints on the floor behind me. The room was large, each corner was a dark and mysterious cave. But, one in particular held a shadowy figure. Whoever it was, they were facing the wall, clothed all in black.

I hesitated, recalling what my mother used to say about strangers: Strangers are dangerous, especially those from Old Bricton.

The mysterious person mumbled something inaudible. They didn’t look at me or turn around.

“What?” I asked, not moving from my position close to the door. 

“You should not be here.” It was male voice and he turned around to face me.

“I’m not stealing anything,” I said, “and I wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t run away.” Though, that was partially a lie. I might’ve come in my exploration, but certainly not on purpose.

I could hear him breathing loudly until he said, “Do you know what happens when people come here?” When I shook my head, he continued, “If people from the outside go places they should not, someone gets hurt.” 

While that statement was somewhat disturbing, it didn’t deter me. “I like this town better than my own home.” 

“No one likes this town, anymore.”

“I do,” I repeated.

“Interesting,” he said. “Most from the outside do not bother to explore outside of their ‘little bubble.’” He stepped out of the shadows, and looked surprisingly younger than be sounded. His skin was chalk-like under the grey light coming in from the windows.  

“Are you a ghost?” I said aloud without thinking. 

“You could say that all the remaining people here are ghosts, made so by the world that turned against them.” 

“What happens when someone moves in?”

He took another step towards me. “That does not happen anymore, the only people who come here are tourists and contractors.”

“The tourists are usually disappointed, aren’t they?” 

“I would not say that. They tend to get lost in the city’s individuality.”

My stomach dropped as I caught on to the second meaning in his words. “You mean, the tourists never leave, do they?”

He shook his head and took another step, he was close enough now that I could see the grim smile on his face. “It is how the city survives, smart girl.” 

I knew I should have run, but I didn’t want to. I thought of my mother, who was still downstairs, my cousin, and of my dad, who was probably being seduced by his boss. I knew I didn’t want to be apart of that life. 

“I want to stay, but I won’t be a tourist.” 

He nodded in recognition. “I understand. You will fit in here.” He reached out his hand. 

I took a deep breath, sure of my decision, before taking his hand. It was cold, but I wasn’t surprised.

“I must warn you,” he said, “the deeper you get, the more lost you become.”