The Fire Witness

80

Flora lies in her bed and stares at the ceiling. Her heart is thumping. She woke up dreaming that she was in a small room with a girl who did not want to show her face. The girl was hiding behind a wooden ladder. Something was wrong with her. She was wearing only white cotton panties and Flora could see her little breasts. She waited for Flora to come nearer and then she turned away, giggling and hiding her face in her hands.

That evening, Flora had read about the murders of Miranda Eriksdotter and Elisabet Grim in the newspaper. Now she can’t stop thinking about the ghost who visited her. It already feels like a dream, although she knows she saw the dead girl in the hallway. She didn’t seem to be more than five years old, but in this dream, the girl was the same age as Miranda.

Flora lies quietly and listens. Every creak in the apartment makes her heart beat harder. People who are scared of the dark are not in charge of their own homes. Fear sneaks through and alerts them to the slightest movement. Flora doesn’t know where she is supposed to go. It’s quarter to eight. She gets up and opens her bedroom door and listens to the sounds of the apartment. No one else is awake yet.

She sneaks to the kitchen to start the coffee for Hans-Gunnar. The rising sun is casting a few rays on the scratched countertop. Flora takes out an unbleached filter and puts it into the basket. When she hears footsteps behind her, she is terrified.

She turns and sees Ewa standing in the doorway to her bedroom. She’s only wearing a blue T-shirt and panties. She catches sight of Flora and comes down the hall.

“What’s going on?” Ewa asks when she sees Flora’s face. “Have you been crying?”

“I… I have to know. I think I’ve seen a ghost,” Flora says. “Have you seen her? A little girl here at home?”

“What is wrong with you, Flora?”

Ewa turns to go into the living room, but Flora places a hand on her strong arm to stop her.

“But it’s true… I’m telling you the truth. Someone had hit her with a rock on the back of her head-”

“You’re telling the truth?” Ewa interrupts sharply.

“I was just… Perhaps there really are ghosts?”

Ewa grabs one of Flora’s ears and drags her around.

“I can’t understand why you insist on lying, but you do,” Ewa says. “You always have and you always will.”

“But I saw-”

“Shut up!” Ewa says and twists Flora’s ear.

“Ow!”

“We don’t tolerate lying in this household!”

“Let go! Ow!”

Ewa gives Flora’s ear one more twist and then releases her grip. Flora stands there a few moments with tears in her eyes and one hand on her burning ear. Then she starts the coffee machine and returns to her room. She shuts the door behind her, turns on the bedside light, and sits on her bed for a good cry.

She’s always thought that mediums just pretended that they saw spirits.

“I don’t understand anything,” she whispers.

What if she’s really called out the spirits by doing séances? Maybe it didn’t matter whether she believes in them or not. When she called them and built a circle of participants to welcome them, perhaps the door to the other side did open and the ones waiting could just come in.

Because I really saw a ghost.

I saw the dead girl as a child.

Miranda wanted to show me something.

It’s not impossible. It must happen sometimes. She’s read that the body’s energy does not completely disappear on death. Many people believe in ghosts without being considered mentally ill. Flora tries to collect her thoughts and go through what happened the past few days.

The girl came to me in a dream. I know I’ve dreamed about her, but when I saw her in the hall, I was awake. That was real. I saw her in front of me and she was speaking. She was actually there.

Flora lies down, closes her eyes, and thinks that maybe she passed out when she tripped and hit her head on the floor.

There was a pair of jeans on the floor between the tub and the toilet.

I was afraid, I was startled, and I fell.

She must have been unconscious and dreamed of the girl in the hallway.

That’s what happened.

She closes her eyes and smiles to herself. Then she notices a strange smell in her room-the odor of burned hair.

There’s something under her pillow. She sits up and shivers then picks up the pillow. The large, sharp rock is lying on her white sheet.

“Why aren’t you closing your eyes?” a voice says.

The girl is standing in the dark, behind the lamp on her nightstand, and is looking straight at Flora. She’s not breathing. Her hair is sticky and black from dried blood. The light from the lamp interferes with her view, but Flora can see that the girl’s thin arms are gray and her brown veins look like a rusty network beneath her dead skin.

“You’re not supposed to look at me,” the girl says, and turns off the light. It’s completely dark and Flora falls off the bed. Light blue spots dance in front of her eyes. The lamp drops to the floor beside her and she can hear the rustle of bedclothes and the sound of naked feet running across the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Flora crawls to the door and pulls herself to her feet. She fumbles with the door handle and stumbles into the hall, her lips clamped to keep from screaming. She walks down the hall, holding the wall so she doesn’t fall over. Panting hard, Flora grabs the telephone from the hallway table but drops it on the floor. She crouches down and calls the police.