“Close your eyes, now,” Gabe said, taking the lead. She did, and Gabe was about to close his eyes, too, when he saw another flame flicker to life on the horizon.
This one wasn’t red or purple but a faint, feathery white, and he didn’t know how he knew, but he did, deep down under his skin. This flame was beckoning him back to Bone Hollow.
As soon as they got back, Ollie started to whine. Gabe laid Wynne down on the quilt next to the fire, and Ollie licked her cheeks and forehead and chin.
“Quit it,” Gabe said, but Ollie wouldn’t listen. He lay down with his paws on her chest and kept right on licking.
Wynne lifted her hand, like she meant to pet him, but it fell back to the ground.
“You rest, now,” Gabe said, pushing a loose braid out of her face. She was shifting again, between Wynne and the skeleton, but he hardly even noticed.
“Thank you,” she said, but he could barely make out the words through all that shaking.
“You’re gonna be fine,” he said, and he was crying again, and rubbing her cheeks and hands to try and warm them up. “You don’t need to thank me.”
But then he saw that she wasn’t looking at him, but just past his shoulder. The white flame burned in the sky over the cottage, waving to and fro in the wind.
“Why is it here?” Gabe said. “There’s no one here who’s going to die, it’s only us. It’s …”
She blinked, and her eyes focused again on his. “Thank you.” The words whistled in her chest, and he wanted to make her stop talking, to tell her to concentrate on her breathing.
Instead, he said, “For what?”
“For being my friend. It’s been so long since I’ve had one, I almost forgot what it was like.”
Gabe choked and tears filled up his mouth. “Not just me,” he said as Ollie nuzzled his nose deeper into Wynne’s ribs. “Ollie, too. We’re both your friends, and we always will be.”
In the background, the wood flutes played a spry, lively sort of melody, but there were sad notes, too. Deep and full of longing.
“You’re going to be brilliant,” she said after a while, the wind blowing her hair around her face, almost like she was underwater.
“You’re not leaving us.” He forced her up and hugged her to his chest. “I won’t let you.”
She tried to smile but couldn’t. “I’m tired, Gabe. So, so tired. It’s time I lay down and rest.”
Nearby, the flame grew, like a wave building up over their heads, getting ready to crash. “But you can’t die, Wynne. You can’t! You’re Death. It doesn’t work that way. Who will help you into the light? Who will hold your hand?”
Wynne’s sad gray eyes dropped to Gabe’s hand, already holding hers.
“Oh,” he said, and he couldn’t make any more words come out after that, partly because he saw what she meant, and partly because both of their hands, his and hers, were made of smooth, white bone.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said, searching her eyes, which were at one moment gray and sparkling, the next hollow. “You’re my friend. Besides, I can’t do it, not like you. How will I get from place to place by myself? How will I help them? How will I know what to say?”
“You’ll know,” she said, and then she did smile, at him and at the flame that had now swallowed the cottage and the trees and everything apart from its own cool white light.
“I’m so proud to have met you,” she said, tears cutting a path down her smooth, white face. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you would say yes.” She turned away from him and stared off into the light, her smile growing stronger.
“But I need you here. I’m not like you, you’re wrong. I’m selfish and lonely and I don’t want to go on helping people without you.”
“But you will,” Wynne said, only a little of her old sadness left in her voice. She tried so hard to get up that Gabe had no choice but to help. He couldn’t stand to see her struggle.
“Besides,” she said, taking a shaky step toward the light, “you won’t be like me. You won’t be all alone.”
Ollie yipped and yapped and licked Wynne’s fingers, and Gabe was just about to ask what she meant when he saw it. Like that day he’d looked in the mirror at the funeral home and the first time he’d met Wynne. Ollie was dead, too, not ugly, not rotten, but just dead.
“But when? When did it happen?” Suddenly, it was like all the breath had been sucked out of his lungs.
“A branch caught him that night in the storm,” Wynne said, ruffling the fur on the back of Ollie’s neck. “I found him and brought him back here. It was a miracle if I ever saw one.”
“So he’s like me, then?”
“Like us.”
“But how? How did you do it?”
Wynne laughed, a real laugh that made her bony face shine. She took another step toward the light, and it was like that white glow was filling her up with energy, bringing her back to life again. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t know I’d find you until I saw you, but there you were. Plain as day. My ‘yes.’ And somebody must have known you couldn’t stand to say goodbye to your real best friend, not for anyone or anything in the whole wide world. And so here he is, too, right by your side.”
“Is that why he wouldn’t eat the food at first, and then he would?” Wynne nodded, but Gabe blinked his eyes in confusion. “But … but, who decides? I still don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” she said, taking another step away from him, into the light. “It’s time.”
Gabe shook his head, tightening his grip on Wynne’s hand. “You can’t go. I won’t let you.”
“I thought I told you, Gabe. It’s no good bossing people around.” She offered him a wide grin, and her eyes took on the same familiar sparkle. He wanted to stare at that smile forever, but she wiggled her hand free from his. “My time’s over now, and I’ll miss you something awful. But don’t you worry about me. I’m happy, Gabe, I promise. I’m ready for a good, long rest.”
With that, she turned and walked slowly into the light. It was so bright it blinded him, but it was cool and shimmering and wonderful, too. Ollie barked and howled, and inside Gabe was crying out, too. Crying out for Wynne to stay.
“Goodbye, Winifred Wist,” he called, tears snaking down his cheeks and dripping into his mouth. The light flared. Ollie barked harder and wiggled his bottom more than he ever had before. “Goodbye!” he said, and then he couldn’t help himself.
He ran after her. He took her hand just as she was leaving, her body flickering in and out, not a skeleton anymore. Only pure white light.
“I’ll miss you.”
And then he kissed the second girl he’d ever kissed in his whole dang life, and the light trembled and nearly exploded, and then, with nothing but the tiniest pop, it was gone.
Gabe turned around, Ollie still barking and yipping and spinning around, chasing his own tail. He didn’t know what he expected to see lying on the quilt in the place called Bone Hollow, but what he found was nothing. Nothing apart from a tiny shimmer of silver. Gabe bent to pick it up, and found his mother’s St. Christopher medal, sparkling in the firelight.
He didn’t know how long he stared at it, but after a while, the tone of Ollie’s barking shifted, and Gabe turned around to see a new flame burning on the horizon.
“I think that’s for us,” Gabe said, and the strange part was, even though the tears were still fresh on his face, he was happy, too. Because Death wasn’t how he’d thought it was, and maybe life wasn’t, either. And that meant that Mama and Daddy and Gramps really were okay. They hadn’t been scared or alone when they’d died, Wynne would have made sure of that, and maybe, if he was lucky, they were out there somewhere, waiting for him.
As for life, the way he saw it, he’d never done anything really good when he was alive, except maybe for rescuing Ollie, but now … Now he had a chance to help people see Death the way he saw it. Sad, sure, but also happy and kind and vast, like the ocean he and Gramps used to imagine. A deep, endle
ss ocean, with rushing waves and a surface that reflected back each and every star.
It was snowing the day Ollie saw his first flame, burning in the quiet woods. He left Gabe sleeping on the grass and followed it.
He smelled the deer before he saw her. Sharp and musky and scared. Ollie had never been that close to a deer before, and she flinched a little when she saw him.
Maybe on instinct, or maybe thanks to some kind of magic, Ollie knew just what to do. He got real low and crawled toward the deer with his head down. He imagined he was a deer, too, sick and alone.
When he got close enough, he started licking the deer’s legs and snout and rump. The deer shuddered and, little by little, started to relax. The light descended, till it was just in front of her.
Ollie nudged her on, though her bones were brittle and near about ancient for a deer. She stood, wobbling, and Ollie used his body to hold her steady.
She staggered forward, into the light, and just before she left, she turned around and fixed him with her clear brown eyes. She blinked a few times, and then snorted happily in the air, and a moment later she was gone.
A few years after that, three or five or seven, it was hard to keep track, Gabe woke to find Ollie off on one of his missions. A cozy blue flame burned on the horizon, and a moment later Gabe found himself in a hospital room painted that very same shade of blue.
The room was small, just a rolling table, a sink, and a plastic bed. At first he thought the bed was empty, but then he heard someone sniffling under the covers.
“Who are you?” said a boy, peeking out from underneath. He was young, maybe four or five, and he had blond hair that fell into his eyes.
“Who are you?” Gabe said, leaning down by his bedside.
“My name’s Simon.” Simon paused, crinkling up his forehead. “You look like a fireman. Are you a fireman? They’re my favorite.”
“Sure am,” Gabe said.
Simon nodded, thinking it over. “It’s a good thing you’re here,” he said. “I’m scared. Firemen always know what to do when someone’s scared, don’t they?”
Gabe smiled. “That’s right. I know just what to do.” He reached behind Simon’s ear and pulled out a red ball, and then another and another.
“How’d you do that?” Simon smiled despite himself.
“Wait and see.” Gabe started to juggle, a few balls at first, and then a dozen, and then so many balls it looked like he was holding one endless red rainbow.
“Don’t stop!” Simon laughed.
Gabe didn’t stop, until a few minutes later when a woman with a tight smile and worried eyes came into the room.
“You have to stay,” Simon said, and his mother blinked at him in confusion.
Gabe came back the next day, and the one after that. The flame grew a little brighter as time passed, and, one day, when it was glowing extra bright, Gabe took the boy’s hand. It was so small and weak, he couldn’t help but think of Wynne. He wondered where she was now, and if he’d ever see her again.
“You’re smiling,” said Simon.
“So are you,” Gabe said.
He held Simon’s hand until his mother came to sit by his side. Later that night, the light grew even brighter, so bright Gabe had to shield his eyes.
“Goodbye,” Gabe said, waving at the blinding light. “Goodbye!”
And that time, like every time, it was like he was waving at Wynne. When the boy was gone, Gabe headed back to Bone Hollow, and that night, like always, Ollie was there to greet him.
Creating something new is always hard and scary, at least for me. There’s the joy of knowing that you’re making something magical that you hope will bring more light or whimsy or laughs or chills or whatever it is into the world, but there’s also the fear of opening yourself up to criticism. Failure is a very real possibility any time you do something creative and new and challenging, but try we must. And putting oneself out there creatively is so much easier when you have lovely, talented people supporting you behind the scenes.
None of my books would be possible without my wild-child/way-cooler-than-me agent, Brianne Johnson, and I thank her for her reassurance, guidance and determination. My editor, Mallory Kass, cries at my stories way more than any human being should, and her wisdom and encouragement have helped me at many points along the way. Then there are my critique partners (i.e., partners in crime) who have supported me through good and bad, laughed with me, and generally been there to share in this dream of writing stories and hopefully making the world a better, more understanding place. Thanks to Regina, Gwen, Jill, Pati, Tod, Jeannie, Jen, Sean, Ashley, and Michael (whenever he deigns to grace us with his presence ☺).
And thanks to my awesome rescue dog, Hera. She may be afraid of everything, but deep down she has a brave soul, just like Ollie.
Finally, to the readers who have contacted me to let me know that my stories made a difference to them, your words mean so much to me, and I want to thank you for sending some of your joy and kindness my way. It is greatly appreciated.
Kim Ventrella spends her days searching for whimsy and wonder, even in the darkest of times. She is the author of Bone Hollow and Skeleton Tree, which Kirkus Reviews called an “emotional roller coaster tempered by a touch of magic.” She lives in Oklahoma City, where her favorite activities include writing stories, working at a haunted house, and racing her dog in the rain.
Keep reading for a peek at Kim Ventrella’s first book, Skeleton Tree!
The day the rain stopped, Stanly Stanwright found a bone in the garden, poking up out of the dirt. It could have been a bean sprout, only it was white and hard and shaped like the tip of a little finger.
Stanly bent down to investigate. A shiver tickled his toes and curled all the way up the back of his neck. He touched the bone, quick, like it might bite. Cold seeped from the bone finger into his fleshy one. Wind slapped his face, blowing orange and brown leaves in from the neighbor’s yard.
In that moment he felt like an explorer, like Dagger Rockbomb, hero of his favorite video game, Skatepark Zombie Death Bash. He might find something good hiding underground, like a dinosaur fossil. Or he might awaken a horde of slimy, flesh-eating zombies.
Some days were like that. One little thing happened, and nothing else was ever the same. The day Stanly’s sister was born, for example. Or the night ten months ago, when his father took a taxi to the airport and never came back. Finding the finger bone felt the same way.
“Hey Bony-Butt, don’t you know it’s treasure time?” said Miren, racing down the cracked stone path and punching Stanly in the chest.
“Stop it! That hurt!” He stepped in front of the bone so Miren wouldn’t see. The bone was his discovery. If Miren saw it, she would tell Mom and ruin everything. Mom never let him dig in the backyard anymore, since Dad left. “You know what Mom said about running too fast.”
“I can breathe fine.” She shrugged and sprinted back to the house. “Last one to treasure’s a rotten nobody.”
“Egg,” said Stanly, shaking his head, but Miren was already gone.
Seven-year-olds get a lot of things wrong. Like how Miren told him cows pee milk, and playing video games can make your fingers fall off. Stanly wondered if he’d said dumb things like that when he was seven.
He didn’t think so.
When he was seven, he already knew how to read and change diapers and get Miren to take her medicine. The kind that smelled like canned worms. Even Mom and Dad didn’t know how to do that.
“Stanly, you promised you’d be in the garage by five to ten. Your sister’s waiting,” Mom said through the kitchen window. Her hair hung in wet curls around her chin. The one time something really important happened to him, and he had to leave. He felt bad about Miren going to the doctor, again, but why couldn’t he do what he wanted just this once?
Before he went inside, Stanly snapped a shot of the bone with his old Polaroid camera. He would have used a phone, but he didn’t have one, and Mom’s was so old it couldn’t do
anything but make calls. The photo came out all gray and blobby, because Polaroids take ages to develop.
“Stanly, hurry up!” Mom shouted. He shoved the photo in his pocket and ran for the garage. Before he got in the car, he grabbed a Diet Coke from the mini-fridge he’d helped Dad pick out last year at a yard sale. The sides were still rusty, because Dad had left before he could repaint them.
In the station wagon on the way to the doctor, Miren started coughing. Big, wet coughs that made her entire body shudder.
“I don’t want to go to the doctor,” Miren said. She cupped her eyes and started to sniffle, like she was still three instead of seven.
Mom rolled down a window so some air could reach Stanly and Miren in the backseat. “What about the treasure chest?” Stanly said.
Even though it was filled with baby stuff, Miren loved to pick out a toy from the inflatable treasure chest in Dr. Cynthia’s office. She loved it even more than cheeseburgers or those spinny things you get at the school carnival. She told him once. In those exact words.
She sucked in a deep breath that rattled in her chest. “Nope, I changed my mind. I’m allowed to do that, you know?” Miren’s jaw jutted out, tears teetering on the edge of her eyelids. “I hate Dr. Cynthia and her stupid treasures.”
Inside, Stanly sighed. A tiny part of his brain hated how Miren always acted like a baby, and how it was always up to him to make her feel better. But Stanly knew what to do when he felt like that.
He sliced off that part of his brain and fed it to his pet zombie. The zombie had green skin, two bulby eyes, and chomping teeth that were always hungry. His name was Slurpy, just like the pet zombie in Skatepark Zombie Death Bash.
“I want to go home!” Miren cried.
Chomp, chomp went the zombie in Stanly’s head.
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