Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Unending. Shallow. Permanent.

Wendy found it somewhat humorous how similar the lines in the ceiling were to her own misery.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring up at them, either. There was a high likelihood that it had been hours since she moved from her bed. The sherbet orange that was streaming through her bedroom window earlier had melted into faint, pale moonlight. She was sure her rose-tinted room was barely visible around her, if she had bothered to look around. As it was she remained entranced on her ceiling, even with those lines barely being visible now.

To be truthful she wasn’t even sure why she was doing this. It didn’t change anything. It wasn’t productive. It barely passed time. She supposed it didn’t matter; laying here or spending her time elsewhere, she was going to waste away eventually.

Several more minutes of staring must have passed before a knock brought her back to reality. There was a pause before the creaking of her bedroom door filled the air from around the corner of her room.

“Sweetheart?”

She looked down to spot a tall, lanky man gazing at her from around said corner. A thin pencil mustache complimented his dark, receding hair. Deep rings rested under his burnt umber eyes, which were narrowed in concern.

His gaze gently drifted over to the nightstand resting next to her bed. Sighing, he shuffled over and picked up a full, untouched plate of food.

“I really wish you would eat tonight,” He said.

Wendy only stared at him for a moment before her attention shifted to a bright red chrysanthemum blossom resting on her nightstand. Her bed creaked as she sat up and slowly reached for the flower.

“No amount of food will ever fill the aching of my heart,” She hummed solemnly.

The man–her father–sighed again. He sat down next to Wendy and slowly rubbed the back of her head.

“Abigail would want you to eat.”

At the sound of that name Wendy couldn’t stop her face from scrunching up, her eyes closing tightly. She buried her head into the flower she was still holding.

Vivid memories flashed in her head of the blossom falling out of her sister’s hands as she tumbled off of the cliff right next to their house. She recalled Abigail calling her name and reaching out for her. She recalled the way her yelling ceased immediately upon reaching the bottom. She recalled looking over the edge of that cliff to see what had become of her.

She recalled wishing she never had.

She recalled the way these memories would flood her head over and over again anytime her sister was mentioned anywhere. She recalled times where Abigail was still alive and they would play from dawn until dusk.

She recalled when she was happy.

Wendy was so deep in her own memories she hadn’t even noticed her father putting the plate down and wrapping his arms around her torso. Returning to reality for a brief moment, she leaned into his embrace and drew Abigail’s flower close to her heart.

Moments like this between her and her father were all too common, but she was still thankful for his presence and warmth. It felt as though this deep, aching pain visited her almost every day, and every time it did her father was there by her side to bring her comfort.

As was her mother, who drew the two’s attention by knocking on the door. Wendy and her father separated as she rounded the corner of Wendy’s room, her wavy blonde hair almost floating as she walked. A soft “Oh” escaped her lips as she realized what had been occurring, and without a word she sat down on the bed across from the two–Abigail’s bed.

She only watched Wendy, her eyebrows arched in concern and her eyes ever-so-slightly narrowed. Not a word was spoken for what felt like several minutes.

Eventually Wendy’s father readjusted himself where he sat and opened his mouth to speak.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

Wendy shook her head and deeply exhaled. “You’ve done nothing, Father. My misery is unending without her.”

“We understand,”Her mother softly chimed in. Wendy noticed her eyes land on her uneaten plate for a moment. “We know you’re hurting, baby, but you need to take care of yourself, too.”

Wendy’s gaze went back down to Abigail’s flower. “Why? To prolong my own miserable existence and delay my own demise?”

Her father leaned down to put his head close to hers. “Because it would make your old ‘Father’ really happy?”

She looked up at him, saying nothing. With an unchanging expression, she scooted closer to him and rested her head against him.

“Perhaps that’s an alright reason.”

Both of her parents smiled, glancing at each other briefly. Wendy clearing her throat quickly caught their attentions’ again.

“I’m not in the mood to eat tonight, however. I’ll eat in the morning,” She said, sitting up straight.

Instantly her parents nodded at her.

“How about I make a nice breakfast tomorrow then?” Wendy’s mother hummed, cocking her head slightly.

Wendy nodded. “I might enjoy that.”

Her mother stood up and ruffled her hair slightly. “Sounds great, sweet pea. If you’re not going to eat tonight I’d like for you to get to sleep soon then, okay?”

Wendy’s father stood up and started for the door as she responded. “Sure. Sleep will halt the misery, anyway.”

Her parents glanced at each other briefly. Her father blew a kiss at her as her mother joined him at the corner of the room.

“We love you, Wendy,” He said, somewhat choked up.

“Get some good rest tonight, okay?” Her mother added.

Wendy stared at them and nodded slowly. “Love you too.”

Her parents eyed her for another moment before disappearing around the corner. What followed was the creaking of her door opening and then closing again.

Wendy let out a deep sigh as she stroked Abigail’s flower. She looked across the room at her sister’s bed–identical in every way to her own except for the thin layer of dust that rested on it.

It took everything Wendy had to keep tears from forming. She glanced from the bed to a collection of burnt-down candles and a small ouija board resting in the middle of her room, past the beds.

“Where are you, Abby?” She choked. Her thumb slowly rubbed against the petals of the flower. “Life has been hard enough as it is without you, but I wish you’d respond. I know you’re out there.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“I need to know you’re out there. I can’t do this alone.”

She took several deep breaths before closing her eyes and swallowing. Letting out a sigh, she gently placed Abigail’s flower back on her nightstand. She strolled over to her dresser on the far end of her room and threw on a nightgown, tossing what she was wearing onto a pile of clothes resting against her dresser. Wendy gently pulled her blonde pigtails loose before heading back to her bed, slowly laying down and settling under her covers.

With a sigh, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone. The screen lit up with a picture of her and Abigail, along with the date and time.

August 15, 2017

10:41 P.M.

She had been laying down for a while. Reaching over the side of her bed for her charger, she plugged her phone in and set it back down. She huffed as she rolled over and closed her eyes. It simultaneously felt like it took forever and no time at all for her to fall asleep.

There it was.

Again.

Music.

A jaunty tune. Old-fashioned. Ragtime. The kind Father would like.

And colors. Colors everywhere. All of them, some I wasn’t sure I could see outside of my dreams.

And in the middle of it all was her.

A blurry, melty figure.

Every time this dream happened I thought it could be her but now I was certain.

It was Abby. Turned away from me.

I ran. There was nothing else to think about. Abby was right here, in front of me. I need her to notice me. To see me.

Everything seemed to get brighter and louder as I got closer. I ignored it. Nothing mattered except Abigail.

I could see the waves of her hair and the stitching in her overalls as I got closer. I tried to call out to her but my voice had no power here. I don’t even know if she’d hear me over the blaring music anyway. If she could even hear it.

I began to fear I’d go blind from how bright my surroundings were. Let alone my eardrums popping from how loud the music was. I couldn’t ignore them anymore but I still tried. Abigail was right there. I could see her more clearly than ever before.

I reached out a hand and attempted to yell her name as loud as I could.

I could feel my consciousness stir, calling me to wake up. But Abigail was turning around.

It was the first time I’ve seen her face here.

She widened her eyes upon seeing me. Then she smiled. Then she cried.

She reached out for me.

Even in my dream I felt her hand grab mine before I was pulled into the waking world.

For a long while Wendy didn’t open her eyes. She knew it was morning; she could hear the birds outside singing and smell her mother’s breakfast downstairs. She only hoped that, maybe, she could go back. Back to Abigail.

That dream was one she’d had recurring for a long, long time now. It had to have been weeks, maybe months, since it came to her for the first time. She did think it could simply be caused by grief, but she knew better. The odds of such a dream happening repeatedly for so long could only be caused by Abigail herself. She was sure of it.

Groaning, Wendy brought a hand up to her forehead. That was the closest she’d ever gotten to her. If only she could fall back asleep and try again. Part of her wished Abigail picked an easier method of connection.

Beggars can’t be choosers, she told herself.

After several minutes she opened her eyes but still didn’t move for a while. She didn’t want to start another day of living without her. She let out a deep sigh, and after several more minutes sat up and reached for Abigail’s flower.

However she immediately went back to not moving.

For her twin sister was resting on her own bed mere meters away.

Abigail was laying right there. In her room. Staring up at the ceiling. Bearing the same lengthy blonde hair, same identical face, same overalls she had been wearing when it happened. Expressionless. Unmoving.

Wendy couldn’t even vocalize a reaction. She couldn’t even form a thought. She couldn’t even tell what emotion she was currently feeling.

Whatever it was, it briefly changed to fear as she watched Abigail’s eyes shift to look at her.

Tears welled up in Wendy’s eyes, though not ones of sadness. She couldn’t think of another reaction that would be more appropriate even if she could control herself.

Her own breathing stopped as Abigail sat up where she laid. Her eyebrows furrowed as she continued to watch Wendy, scooting to sit on the edge of her bed. She rested her elbows on her knees and her head on her hands.

“That’s new.”

Wendy’s hands shot up to cover her mouth. A somber whimper escaped her throat.

She hadn’t heard Abigail’s voice since she died. Music could never recreate the joy that flooded her insides as the sound hit her ears.

The girl in question was now standing, eyebrows furrowed. She looked over her shoulder, then back to Wendy.

“What the heck did she see?” She half-yelled, glancing around the room. Wendy lowered her hands from her mouth as her sister’s eyes darted around.

“Abigail?”

The girl froze. Her eyes landed right back on Wendy. She paused for a moment, only staring. She then slowly sat back down, leaning forward slightly.

“...Wendy?” She breathed.

A smile spread across Wendy’s face.

“Abigail.”

Never before had Wendy seen someone move as fast as her sister did to put her hands on her shoulders.

“You can finally see me?!” She yelled, her eyes welling up with tears.

Before Wendy could reply Abigail dragged her hands back to herself and let out a gasp. Tears rolled down her face.

“...I can feel you again.”

Wendy only sobbed in response. She raised a hand up to Abigail’s cheek, wiping her tears. Her eyebrows rose immediately upon contact.

“Abby…” She choked, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re so cold.”

Her twin’s expression fell into a somber one she’d never seen before. She let out a half-chuckle before looking away from her sister.

“That’s–well…that’s not surprising…”

For just a brief moment confusion took over Wendy. Her insides twisted as she understood what her sister meant.

“You’re…you’re not…”

Her words trailed off as she watched Abigail place her hand on Wendy’s nightstand. Wendy saw her face scrunch up for just a second before half her arm fell straight through the nightstand, causing her to tumble over slightly.

Wendy felt her insides drop, but Abigail laughed.

“Hahahaha! That’s new!”

Tears streaked down Wendy’s face at hearing her sister’s laugh. “Oh, what do I care?”

She then did something she’d only been on the receiving end of.

She tackled her sister and hugged her tightly.

Abigail let out a yelp before embracing her sister back. Both girls laid against the cold wooden floor, sobbing and laughing together. Wendy pressed her whole head into her sister’s shoulder, who hugged her more tightly than ever before.

So many questions swirled in Wendy’s head but she pushed them to the side, focusing instead on the happiness coursing through her system for the first time in months. She knew her sister was still out there. She knew she’d come back. Even if her embrace was icy cold, it was still hers and it was still Abigail. It was still her sister, returned from beyond.

After a few minutes the girls stood up from the floor. Wendy cradled Abigail’s face, ignoring the tears streaming down her own.

“If this is a dream, may I never wake,” She choked.

Abigail chuckled, the familiar gap in her teeth showing. “Definitely not a dream!”

Wendy stepped back, eyeing her twin up and down and putting her hands behind her head. “How is this possible…? I mean, you’re back, I’m…” Her words trailed away as her gaze drifted over to the ouija board resting on the floor between them. Abigail followed her gaze, her face falling as she realized what she was looking at.

“Oh, Wendy…” She sighed. “I tried to respond, I really did, but‒” she held up her hands, “‒my dumb hands wouldn’t touch the planchette, I tried and I tried but it wasn’t working-”

“Hey hey, Abby, it’s okay,” Wendy responded, holding her hands up in an attempt to calm her. “That doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

Abigail nodded, sighing again. She bent down, reaching for the planchette. Picking it up, she held it out to Wendy and scowled.

“Well. That’s mean.”

Wendy giggled. Abigail strode over to her and sat down, coughing briefly as dust went flying.

“Not to mention every ritual you did, either,” She continued, Wendy sitting down across from her. “I tried so hard to get you to hear me but it never worked.” She pointed at Wendy. “I even followed you to go see that one guy, that medium who, like, put on a show that one night‒”

“Oh, that was ages ago!” Wendy exclaimed. “What an old fool he was!”

Abigail threw her head back and laughed. “I know! You should’ve seen it, I was practically yelling in his ear when he tried to‒” she made quotes with her fingers, “‒’connect to me.’”

The twins chuckled, shaking their heads at the memory. After a minute Wendy’s eyebrows furrowed as a question entered her mind.

“So‒how exactly long have you been here, then?”

Abigail’s eyes narrowed. “I never left. I woke up about a week after I fell, right out there on the cliffside.” She gave a somber smile. “It felt like I was waking up from a nap. If only.”

She shook her head. “Anyways, I went inside to find you all in the living room. I tried to ask what was going on, but none of you seemed to hear me.” She held up her hand, gazing at her palm. “It was when I tried to grab your shoulder that I realized what was going on. Or‒what I was.

“I didn’t know what to do. So I stayed. And for a long while I never gave up trying to get your attention. I would read your ghost books with you, then try and do the things it said ghosts were known to do. It never worked. Never. I think it was only recently that I had accepted that you’d never see me again.”

Wendy said nothing for a few moments, only taking in her twin’s words. She exhaled deeply. “I knew you hadn’t left. Thank goodness the dream connected us.”

Abigail cocked her head. “Dream…?”

Wendy furrowed her eyebrows. “Yes, don’t you‒”

She was cut off by the sound of her door creaking open.

“Wendy? Everything alright in here, sweetheart? Your mother and I heard some odd noises.”

The twins’ father emerged from around the corner of their room, concern laced into his expression. It quickly fell into fear as his eyes landed on Abigail.

Tears flooded Abigail’s eyes almost instantly. “Oh my heavens, Father can see me, too,” She whispered under her breath.

Wendy’s gaze darted between her twin and her father. Her stomach dropped as she watched her father step back, his breathing shallow. His hands rose to cover his mouth, the wrinkles on his face deepening.

“...Abigail?” He breathed.

Abigail nodded, a tight smile on her face. “It’s me, Father, you don’t have to be scared.”

“She never left,” Wendy added. “We can only just see her now.”

Their father’s eyes widened. “Oh‒you’re‒”

“A ghost,” The twins said at the same time.

Abigail stood up. Wendy hadn’t noticed this a moment ago, but her golden hair defied gravity and flicked about carelessly. Something noticeably inhuman.

“I’m not alive,” She said solemnly. “I’m dead.”

Chapter Text

It amazed Wendy how the air lingered with a tenseness she hadn’t ever experienced before. It wasn’t a negative kind, not by any stretch, but it was incredibly evident as she and her family remained seated in the living room. There was certainly joy in the air, but some kind of anticipation lingered under the surface along with it.

Even the room itself seemed brighter. The vintage periwinkle wallpaper seemed to shimmer as sunlight from the back windows danced across it. The various sofas in the room glowed alongside it, their cushy fabric various shades of blue and grey. Electricity danced in the air, the feeling certainly not aided by the large TV hanging above the fireplace in front of them nor by the family computer resting on an antique desk along the far wall, close to the entryway to the kitchen.

Wendy’s eyes landed on Abigail as she took a bite out of the breakfast her mother had prepared for her: pancakes, bacon, and sausage. The events of this morning still felt like fantasy. She recalled her mother coming up to her room shortly after her father had taken Abigail in his arms, lifting her up and embracing her tightly. Wendy had never seen her sob so quickly nor intensely; her mother hadn’t questioned the apparition’s identity as her daughter for even a moment Dozens of questions were immediately thrown around, prompting Wendy to suggest sitting down in the living room to discuss everything.

Upon traveling downstairs the twins’ mother offered the girls breakfast before they sat down, which Abigail had turned down disheartedly.

“I want to say yes, but I quite literally can’t eat,” She had said.

Thus Wendy was given a plate and everyone sat down to listen to Abigail. She told the same tale she’d told her twin to her parents: how she’d woken up a week after her death, how she’d realized she was a ghost, and how she’d tried numerous times to connect. While she spoke her parents watched her intently, somber looks plastered on both their faces.

“...I was only laying there, like I have every morning,” She was saying. “Next thing I knew Wendy was looking straight at me. I didn’t think she was looking at me at first, but then she said my name.” She leaned back into the couch she and her mother rested on. “And here we are.”

Silence fell over the four as Abigail’s words lingered in the air. Her parents gazed off into the distance, their faces both scrunched up in thought. Wendy only continued to munch away at her breakfast.

After several minutes the twins’ father shifted in his seat and opened his mouth to speak. “This is unbelievable…”

His wife nodded, huffing. “That’s certainly an accurate way to describe it.” She turned her attention to Abigail. “Even with this being quite out-of-the-blue, I’d also call it a blessing.”

A soft smile spread on her face. “Shocked as we may be, we’re beyond grateful you’re back, Abby.”

Abigail grinned at her words as her father leaned forward, catching her attention. “I honestly couldn’t describe it any better than your mother did. I’m–well–” several stuttering noises escaped his throat, “–I’m taken aback by all of this for sure. It’s rather sudden. But I’m ecstatic that I get to have both of my girls with me again.”

Wendy couldn’t help but grin slightly at her sister as she lightly kicked her legs and her unearthly hair flicked around excitedly. It was unbelievably clear Abigail was just as excited to be seen as Wendy was to see her; while that didn’t surprise her by any stretch, it still felt good to witness. Immensely good.

Without warning Mr. Carter straightened himself where he sat, catching the twin’s attention. His face had fallen into a focused expression.

“I suppose my only question is, then–” he pointed at Abigail, “–why is it we can see you?”

The spirit shrugged, her hands curled around the edge of the couch. “No clue.” She turned her attention to Wendy, cocking her head. “But you were starting to say something about that before Father came into our room?”

Some of the joy swimming in Wendy’s system faded away at her twin’s question. Her eyes met the floor, the song from her dreams echoing faintly in her mind. She opened her mouth to speak but the explanation got stuck in her throat, resulting in several stuttering noises.

“Well,” she started, “I thought you had known why we could see you. Or–I thought we both knew. You see–” her fingers curled into a fist over her chest, “–for the longest time after you died I’ve had this dream. I’ve always believed it was you trying to communicate.”

She opened her mouth to continue but paused as she noticed Abigail shake her head, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I wish I knew how to do that,” She said.

Wendy let out an exhale, glancing at the floor again. “The reason I thought it was you was because you appeared in it. Every single time. And only last night was I able to see you clearly and get your attention.”

Both her twin and her parents raised their eyebrows as Wendy spoke. Abigail leaned forward, inching forward from the couch’s edge.

“Did your dream have music in it, by any chance?”

Wendy stared at her sister, mouth agape. “How did you–”

“An old-timey song? Like the ones Father likes to listen to on his record player?”

“Ragtime music?” Mr. Carter interjected.

“Yes!” Both girls chimed in sync, their faces lighting up. They turned their attention back to each other.

“How in the world did you know that?” Wendy questioned, her eyebrows furrowed.

Abigail huffed, then chuckled to herself. “Gosh, this is strange. So–well–ever since I became like this it feels like every night I’d hear that song. I have no clue why it happens, I just figured it was a spooky ghost thing. But, uh–yeah. I’ve heard the music, too.”

Wendy leaned forward where she sat. “Was it louder than normal last night?”

She would’ve bet money she saw fear wriggle its way into Abigail’s expression.

“Oh my heavens, yeah,” She sighed. “It was so loud. I swear, I thought you were gonna somehow hear it and wake up.”

Wendy responded with a quiet “Hmm”, her hand on her chin as she pondered the situation. Her parents, who had only been watching the twins, eyed each other with tight lips and nervous expressions. After a moment of quiet Mrs. Carter cleared her throat.

“Now I’m no paranormal expert,” she started, holding up her palms, “but I feel as though something was trying to connect you two together.”

The girls eyed each other once more, their eyebrows raised. Wendy hadn’t considered the idea of an external force trying to connect them, instead of Abigail reaching out to connect with her. From the look on the ghost’s face, it was clear Abigail hadn’t considered the possibility, either.

“Is–is that possible?” She said.

“I’m unsure,” Wendy hummed back. “I’ve never heard or read of such a thing occurring, but the occult world is full of unknowns despite the countless documentations of phenomena out there. Who’s to say?”

Abigail only shrugged. Mr. Carter leaned back where he sat.

“Maybe it’s worth investigating?” He said.

“Investigating…?” The twins said at the same time.

Mr. Carter raised his eyebrows. “Oh, sorry–” he turned to Wendy and gestured towards her, “–I only figured you’d want to continue your research, sweetheart, especially with Abigail here…”

The girl responded with a “Hmm”. The idea tickled her; though her research into the spirit realm had started as a means of connecting with her twin, she had gained a genuine interest in the occult as a result of it. She didn’t dare dream of using Abigail as a guinea pig of any kind, but having an actual ghost at her side could allow for deeper insight. By the way the spirit’s face had lit up, she had a feeling she’d be interested in the idea as well.

Without warning, said spirit rushed across the room to grab her sister’s shoulders, darting through the air with her legs vanishing momentarily.

“Oh, Wendy, doesn’t that sound like fun?!” She exclaimed, an ear-to-ear grin on her face. “I can finally help you with your research! We could be like ghost hunters! Well–” she giggled as Wendy smirked at her last sentence, “–you’ve already got a ghost but you know what I mean!”

Wendy placed her plate of breakfast on the couch seat next to her. She gently pulled Abigail’s hands off of her shoulders and held them in her own, smiling back at her sister. “I do think that would be fun. We could see what ghost capabilities you have!”

Abigail’s feet left the ground as she hovered in the air, kicking her legs. “Yeah! And then we could discover new ghost stuff no one’s ever seen and play with my new powers!”

“Yes!”

The two girls laughed, touching their foreheads together. Their parents couldn’t help but smile as well from across the room. Wendy was already happy to have her sister back as is, but as she took in her sister’s familiar presence a realization hit her: she was happy to have her sister back, unchanged. As she gently squeezed Abigail’s hand she thought back to all the stories she’d come across of people coming back malicious and evil, nothing like their living counterparts. She’d never lost hope that Abigail was out there somewhere, but with every ritual candle lit and every incantation said, a very small part of her feared that a facsimile of her sister would appear to her instead.

She couldn’t be happier her fears never came to light.

Abigail planted her feet on the ground again and started to pull her sister up from the couch.

“C’mon–let’s go, let’s go!” She giggled. “We’ve got research to do, Wendy!”

“Hey, I still have my breakfast to finish,” Wendy responded, gently picking up the plate next to her.

“Well hurry up! I wanna go do ghost things!”

The twins’ parents laughed. They turned their attention to each other as Abigail plopped down on the couch next to Wendy, continuing to tease her. Mrs. Carter played with the ends of her hair as she opened her mouth to speak.

“I honestly still can’t believe this is happening,” She said, half-laughing.

Her husband chuckled. “Me either, but I’m grateful for it. I think a part of me was always hoping one of Wendy’s rituals would work. This works just fine too.”

Mrs. Carter laughed. “Y’know, me too. I’m certainly not complaining.”

They fell quiet for a moment as they watched their daughters playfully bicker with one another. Mr. Carter scooted closer to his wife, placing his head on her shoulder. It didn’t remain there for long, however–he immediately shot straight up as surprise covered his face. Turning away from her ever so slightly, he began to rummage through the pocket of his baggy shorts.

“What is it, sweetheart?” His wife questioned, cocking her head.

“I–” he started, but cut himself off with a “Hmm” as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Well, I was just hit with the idea to call William, but now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, I’m not sure.”

Mrs. Carter’s face immediately fell into a stern expression. “Oh, Jack, I don’t know.” She glanced at Abigail, her husband following her gaze. “I do think he deserves to know, but we both know he’s going through a lot.”

“Of course, of course, but knowing him and his schedule, if I tell him to come over now he’s not going to be able to make it here until January, if we’re lucky. I feel I shouldn’t wait to tell him even if that probably is what’s best for him.”

Mrs. Carter reluctantly nodded her head. “I can’t deny that. Plus it has been a while since he’s visited, I’m sure the girls would love to see him.”

Her husband nodded. His phone lit up as he lifted it up, immediately opening up his contacts. Faint ringing noises could be heard from it as he stood up and walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Carter turned her attention back to the girls, who were still teasing each other.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“‘...passing on from death to the in-between, spirits have been reported to boast a variety of supernatural abilities their living counterparts did not have’,” Wendy was reading.

The page of The Spiritualist’s Compendium she was browsing through was home to walls of cursive and delicate sketches of ghosts, their faces bony and decayed. Abigail floated in the air above her twin, who laid on her bed with the book propped up on her bent legs. Her finger rested on her chin as she took in the book’s information. Various tomes and encyclopedias lay strewn over her quilted bedsheets, some having fallen to the floor.

“‘Most commonly reported is the lack of a corporeal presence, allowing them to pass through objects and people on the earthly plane’,” She continued. “‘Some have demonstrated the ability to move and misplace objects, sometimes without physically interacting with them. More extreme otherworldly hauntings have had spirits demonstrate the ability to tamper with electronic devices, vocalize with living people, and even communicate directly, via speaking, writing, or through spirit boxes’.”

“I’m pretty sure I can do all of that,” Abigail hummed, rolling over in the air. “I can definitely touch and move things now–and can talk, of course–but I dunno about messing with electronics. Maybe I can?”

“Well, you seem to demonstrate all the other common abilities reported in these books, so I don’t think I’d be too surprised,” Wendy responded, looking up at the ghost. “We could certainly experiment with that as long as we don’t break anything–I imagine Father would be furious if we did.”

Abigail scoffed. “Oh, for sure.”

The two fell quiet as Wendy continued to flip through pages of the book. After a minute or two Wendy slammed the book shut, sighing. Abigail watched as she leaned over and fumbled through the other books on her bed. She opened her mouth to question her, but Wendy cut her off.

“This one only mentions the same basic abilities every other book does,” She said, as though reading Abigail’s mind. “There has to be more out there we can use as a starting point to discover your unique abilities.”

Abigail floated over to enter her sister’s line of vision, hanging upside down in the air in front of her.

“What makes you so sure I’ve got powers like that?” She asked her.

“Well, it seems you’re both corporeal and not,” She answered, still shifting through her books. “From my research spirits are typically one or the other, not both. Better yet–you seem to be able to control when you’re corporeal and when you’re not, which I’ve never heard of before.”

Abigail lightly nodded her head. She descended in the air just enough to pick up two books from Wendy’s bed.

“So–” she started, tucking one of the books under her arm, “–like this?”

The ghost proceeded to shove her hand straight through the other book as though it were water. Her arm seemed to ripple in response to the action, her form wavering ever so slightly.

Wendy pointed at her sister. “Precisely.”

She went back to sifting through her books, now occasionally opening one to skim its contents. Abigail went to put her books down but stopped to take a closer look at one of them. After analyzing it for a minute, she flipped herself upright in the air and held it out to Wendy.

“What about this one?”

Her twin took the book and proceeded to analyze it herself, while Abigail cleared room on her bed to sit with her. The book was a dull brown, with lines of gold weaving intricate designs along the spine and cover’s edges. Written in the same gold was the title and author’s name: The Occult and the Unknown, by G.T. Wickerbottom. Unlike some of the other books resting on her bed, it seemed to be nearly pristine in quality.

“Have you even read that one before?” Abigail questioned, catching her attention.

“Oh, I’m certain,” Wendy nodded. “I just don’t remember anything from it, I’ll be honest.”

Her sister snickered as she opened the book to the glossary, then flipped to the page on spirits. The pages of the book were littered with neatly organized text that almost seemed handwritten. Images were scarce, but from what she could see they primarily consisted of diagrams and maps. Clearing her throat, she began to read.

“‘The spirit, more commonly referred to as a ghost, is a supernatural entity spanning across global cultures. Originating from ones that predate written language, it is believed to be the essence or soul of a human being returned to life after death. Reasons for their existence vary, but often it is due to the person having unfinished business on Earth or being denied a peaceful afterlife’.”

Wendy huffed. “We know this already, hang on…” She traced the surface of the book’s pages as she skimmed through its contents. After a moment she paused, reading through some text with furrowed eyebrows.

“Ah, here we are. ‘Many documented cases of hauntings, both historical and recent, have demonstrated a tendency of spirits to associate with the elements. What this means is that their behavior and abilities will change to be more in tune with a certain aspect of the earth–I.E. water, fire, dirt and rock, plants, and the like. The factors seem to vary, but what element they take on depends on their time alive or their deathplace. It is not uncommon for a spirit to take on water-related abilities after drowning or dying near a body of water, for instance. Reports seem to show that any elements a person was attached to in their time alive take precedence over any relating to their death.

“‘What exact powers a spirit may gain upon death is impossible to predict, based on past documentations of hauntings. All spirits share a collection of common, stereotypical abilities, as aforementioned’.”

Wendy paused to look up at Abigail. “I didn’t read those but it seemed to be the same we’ve read about in other books.”

Abigail nodded as Wendy looked back down to the book. “‘However, in similar hauntings where each spirit bears connections to the same element, they demonstrate vastly different powers of vastly different scales. This same trend is present not just in historical documentations, but ones from recent decades as well. What abilities the undead show as years pass continue to amaze occultists and spiritualists alike’.”

Wendy took a deep breath as she finished the paragraph. Abigail rested her head in her hands, leaning forward where she sat.

“So,” she started with a huff, “I might have random powers based on something I liked before I died, or the ocean? Or–maybe rocks would be more accurate…”

Both girls grimaced, Abigail gently clutching her stomach.

“I think the former,” Wendy said after a moment. Abigail cocked her head while Wendy turned around where she sat. She gently grabbed the chrysanthemum from her nightstand and showed it to the ghost, causing her face to instantly light up.

“My flower! Of course! I always thought something was weird about that thing.”

“I’ve always had a feeling you might be the reason it’s never wilted,” Wendy hummed.

Abigail grinned at her. “Yeah, I’ve thought the same thing!” Her face softened as she turned her gaze down to the blossom in Wendy’s hands. “I have always loved that flower.”

“I know you have.” She softly smiled at Abigail as she held the flower out for her, which she slowly took into her own hands. Wendy could’ve sworn she noticed its petals flutter ever so slightly as Abigail gazed down at it.

“Thing is,” she started, “if I’ve been keeping it alive, I don’t have a clue how. I haven’t been trying to.”

“Perhaps your love for it is keeping it alive?” Wendy suggested.

Abigail scoffed in response, narrowing her eyes at her twin. “That’s corny. I hope it’s not that.”

Wendy crossed her arms, huffing. “I’m only throwing suggestions out there. Though I think that’s what it is.”

Abigail shot her sister an annoyed look before turning back to her flower. “Anyways, if I can do this, though, imagine what else I can do if I try.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying. You’ve got a lot of potential like this, Abby.”

“But, like, how do I use that potential?” She groaned. “I don’t feel any superpowers or whatever inside of me. How do I do stuff I don’t know I can do?”

“Well…”

Wendy’s words trailed off as the sound of a door opening downstairs caught her attention. Recognizing it to be one of the back doors opening, she scooted off the bed to gaze out of the bedroom window. Down below, the twins’ parents were strolling across the backyard towards their mother’s garden, various tools in her hands and a grand sunhat resting on her head.

Wendy turned back to her sister, a slight grin growing on her face.

“I’ve got an idea.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Abigail let out a rough sigh. Wendy watched as she dug her knuckles into the earth, grass and dirt being shoved to the side as she did so. Her attention had been focused on the crumpled hydrangea bush in front of her for the past several minutes. Wendy was kneeling on the ground next to her, sitting on her lower legs. The sound of flipping pages filled the air as she rummaged through The Occult and the Unknown. Not far away was their mother going to work on some other plants in the garden, her hands diligently at work uprooting weeds from one of the flower beds.

Wendy had always thought her mother had spent an unbelievable amount of time on their backyard garden. Most of their backyard was left untouched, reaching all the way to the ocean cliffside nearby, but one portion of it closer to the edge of their house was paved and littered with flower beds. Stony paths crawled in between tidy flower beds–some flourishing with colorful flowers, some boasting fruits and vegetables in the process of growing. Beyond them was a small patio home to some outdoor chairs and sofas surrounding a brick fire pit.

The spirit’s eyebrows furrowed as the tenseness left her form. She stared at the shrub for another second before turning to Wendy. Another sigh escaped her lips.

“This is too hard. I can’t do this.” She shot her hand out towards the plant. “I’m not getting anything from this thing.”

Wendy softly placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “I know you can do this. Be patient with yourself.” She lightly huffed. “Plus, this is new for both of us, we hardly know what we’re doing.”

Abigail chuckled. “You’re right, you’re right…but man, this is annoying.”

Straightening herself, she turned back to the rusty, shriveled bush. Her eyebrows furrowed again as she leaned forward slightly.

Wendy glanced back down to her book, running her hand over the page. It had a lot of valuable information they were using to try and unlock Abigail’s powers, but it wasn’t enough. All it said about elemental abilities was that they were too different from ghost to ghost to say for certain what elements gave what powers. The only basis they had was that Abigail was most likely connected to plants, but what powers that gave her was lost on both of them.

Guilt panged her as she gently closed the book. There certainly wasn’t any information guiding her on how to help Abigail, either. This truly was new territory for both of them. Wendy would’ve given anything for it not to be. She wanted to do more for her, to help her in her newfound state. It took everything she had not to let the guilt worming through her body show.

She sat there pondering for a moment, grasping onto anything that might be useful for her sister. As she did she watched her reach out to the flower, gently letting her hands pass through the shrub’s crumpled leaves.

Wendy paused.

That’s it.

“Abby,” she started, leaning forward, “what if you tried to use your new powers like you do your form?”

The ghost turned to her and cocked her head. “Huh?”

“Your corporeal state,” Wendy clarified. “You’re able to control it. What if you tried to use your new powers in the same way you control that?”

Abigail paused, unmoving for a moment with the exception of her wavering hair. Without warning her face lit up, her jaw dropping.

“That’s so smart, Wendy! I think that might work, hang on…”

She flipped back to the flowers, determination now locked into her face. Leaning forward again she reached out to it again, this time letting her fingers rest on its leaves.

“When I let my body go through stuff, I don’t really think about it,” She started, more-so thinking out loud than speaking to Wendy. “It’s like a switch. Like moving a brand new arm. I didn’t know it was there for a while, but when I found it earlier it was super easy to use. If I can just find that switch for my new powers…”

Her eyes slowly closed as her fingers curled around the leaf she had been touching. At first, Wendy didn’t notice anything. It wasn’t long before Wendy noticed dew droplets form on other parts of the plant close to Abigail’s hand. Silence remained in the air as both girls held still for several more minutes.

Eventually, the ghost’s face began to scrunch up. No change had happened to the hydrangeas but still she pushed on. Wendy pulled her twin’s blossom out of the pocket of her sweatpants, brushing its petals gently.

She must be close, but she’s pushing herself too hard, She told herself.

The girl only watched her sister for another moment before a peculiar thought entered her mind. Unsure where it had come from, it felt more like an instinct rather than a thought–it was more intrinsic, more intense. She instantly decided to listen to it. Raising Abigail’s flower to her lips, she closed her eyes.

“Easy,” Wendy breathed. “You’re almost there, but don’t try too hard. It isn’t worth it. Your powers will come to you in time, it’s not worth all your energy.”

Something inside of her told her her efforts were working. She could almost sense Abigail’s change in demeanor–the loosening of her shoulders, the slowing of her flickering hair. Pressing her forehead into the chrysanthemum, she continued.

“I believe in you, Abigail. You are so much stronger than you think.”

Wendy opened her mouth to continue, but was cut off by a sudden, sharp wind rushing past her. Opening her eyes, she found her twin completely fixated on the hydrangea shrub, her face emotionless. Her eyes were somehow both glazed over and yet intensely focused. The spirit’s golden hair continued to flick about with no regard for the newfound wind, which seemed to swirl around the two of them. Abigail’s grip on the hydrangea leaf tightened with a crunch.

What happened next was unlike anything Wendy had ever seen or heard of. She watched as vibrant red flower petals began to swirl around them, their origin unknown. Her twin released the leaf from her grasp. As she did it began to straighten itself, a luscious green taking the place of its rusty brown. The leaf flourished with life in seconds. Its green spread like wildfire to other parts of the plant, its leaves and stems almost glowing green. Abigail’s work finished itself with dozens of hydrangea blossoms popping to life, their blue petals glistening with dewdrops.

Without warning the wind ceased and the mysterious petals vanished. Abigail exhaled loudly, making Wendy turn to her. She could only describe the spirit’s expression as both exasperated and intensely proud. She turned to Wendy, and smiled from ear to ear.

“I did it. I did that.”

Almost immediately did both girls break into fits of excited laughter. They stood up and held each other, bouncing up and down and hyperactively pointing to the flowers in front of them. After gabbering to one other they squealed with excitement and separated.

“I mean I did that!” Abigail exclaimed, holding a hand on her forehead. Her hair flicked around wildly. “I just brought a dead plant back to life–I mean, holy cow!”

“I knew you could do it!” Wendy responded, her eyes wide and a grin on her face. “Well done, Abby! How did it feel?”

Abigail stammered for a second, grinning. “Well–I don’t really know how to explain it, I could just kinda feel some life left in the plant I think? And I tried really hard to kinda–” she gestured with her hands, “–yoink it up and put it back into it, but it was tough. But whatever you did helped me do it–it, like, suddenly became super easy to do.”

She eyed her twin intensely for just a moment. “Thank you, Wendy.”

For a brief moment the girl only smiled at her twin, the words not quite coming to her. “...I’m not entirely sure what I did, but I’m happy it helped.”

Abigail vigorously nodded. “It sure did.” She turned her attention back to the resurrected flowers, taking Wendy’s free hand in hers. “Gosh, what else can I do?”

The crunching of grass suddenly caught the twins’ attention, making them turn. Mrs. Carter had gotten up from her flower bed to examine the commotion. As exaggerated as Wendy believed the phrase to be, she could confidently say her mother’s jaw was on the floor.

“I’ll be,” She breathed, putting her hands on her hips. “Looks like someone will have to lend me a hand more often out here.”