The Lonely Ones - SECOND DRAFT

Here is the second draft of The Lonely Ones.  It's due Tuesday, and I'm currently working on the third draft.  Enjoy!

The Lonely Ones

She stood alone on the hilltop, looking out over the secluded town below. The box she held wasn't heavy, but she'd been holding it for so long that her arms were starting to cramp. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the town, couldn't force herself to enter the tiny parsonage that was supposed to be her new home. Once she did, she'd be forced to accept that she lived here now, and she wasn't ready for that yet. So she stood on the hill, resentment, anger, and an undefinable sadness threatening to overwhelm her.

            "Eleanor." Her father's voice was not commanding or impatient; he said her name as a simple statement without any emotion. She felt a surge of anger toward the man who'd stolen her home from her, who'd forced her to leave behind everything she'd known for her eight years of life.

            "Coming, Father," she said without turning around. His footsteps faded away into the house. She closed her eyes for a moment, controlling her anger, before turning around to face reality.

            She had to admit that the house was lovely. She hated it all the more for its attractiveness; it was going to take some effort to maintain her loathing for such a place. Swallowing her pride, she cleared her throat, stood up a little straighter, and marched through the doorway.

            Her bedroom was cramped with furniture. Claustrophobia overwhelmed her as she stepped inside and set the box down on her bed; how could she live in a place like this? The room's one saving grace was the window. It took up half of one wall, and there was a window seat set into the wall underneath it. Leaving her box unpacked, Eleanor moved to sit by the window. The overstuffed cushion sank when she sat down. She opened the blinds, and light flooded the room. She couldn't help thinking that the place looked almost cheerful with the proper lighting.

            Glancing out the window, Eleanor was surprised at the view. An ancient graveyard spread out across the lawn beyond her window. Worn headstones were arranged in rows, and the earth around them was overgrown and chaotic, as if the dead spent every evening dancing among the weeds. Eleanor was fascinated by the decrepit majesty of the place; ever since her mother's death, she'd had a strange attraction to creepy things.

            The thought of her mother, coupled with her feelings of isolation and bitterness, broke her. Eleanor was ashamed of the tears she felt running down her cheeks; she wanted to be strong and happy – not like her mother had been. Angry at herself and the cruelty of life, Eleanor put her head in her hands and sobbed.

_________________________

Her father insisted on holding service every day in the little church that adjoined their new home. He preached with a passion absent from the rest of his life; the pulpit was the only thing that could bring out emotion in him anymore. Eleanor was the only member of the congregation. Though her father had gone into town to announce the times of weekday services, not a single soul had come to be saved. Eleanor was embarrassed by her father's zealous display to the empty church. She didn't know why he persisted in preaching when there was no one there to hear him. When she confronted him about it, he'd patted her head in his patronizing way and said, "God has made me a shepherd, and He shall provide my flock."

            After the service, Eleanor took a walk. The grounds around the church were beautiful. They were in the awkward middle season between summer and fall, and although the leaves had started to redden and die, the sun continued to blaze in the sky as if summer would never end. Eleanor began to sweat in the morning sunlight as she trudged up the side of the hill, away from the parsonage. She didn't feel like going home; there was nothing to do there anyway. She'd been wanting to explore the grounds, and now seemed like a good time to do so. She ran a hand through her short hair, pushing it out of her face, and continued her exploration.

            Eleanor’s thoughts wandered, her mind going over the details of the previous week. She'd started school and was not in any hurry to go back. She'd begged her father to let her stay home after just one day, but he wouldn't even listen to her complaints. "It'll get better, you'll see," he'd told her. "You'll make friends if you just give it some time."

            Eleanor didn't want to make friends. She didn't like those kids, the ones in the town, and they didn't like her either. When she walked by, their noses seemed to lift a little higher. They'd overheard snatches of rumors from their parents about the girl with the dead mother and the detached father, about what had happened before they came. Eleanor tried to blend in, to make herself invisible, but nothing she did could stop the eyes that always followed her when she passed. She couldn't help feeling self-conscious at the hint of malicious interest she saw shining in each pair of eyes.

            Eleanor came to a halt, surprised that her feet had carried her straight to the graveyard she'd seen through her window. She was worried what her father might say if he found out she'd come here; anything related to death made him anxious, particularly if it caught Eleanor's attention.

            There was an iron gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Eleanor peered through the bars at the chipped, overgrown stones, wondering who they were for and what ancient secrets she might uncover amidst their decay. She reached up to unlatch the gate, pushed it open, and slipped inside.

            Somehow, the graveyard looked even spookier from the inside of the fence. Eleanor felt like she'd passed through a veil when she'd entered.  Thick clouds passed in front of the sun, dimming the light.  A slight mist pressed its chill into her skin. Shivering, she picked her way through the gravestones, careful not to lose her footing on the uneven ground. Every few steps, she stooped to read an inscription on one of the stones, but time had worn the words until they were indecipherable.

            She reached the heart of the graveyard and stopped at the edge of a round patch of ground untouched by overgrowth. It was separated from the rest of the graveyard by a circle of stones lining the edge of the area. At the center of the circle lay three gravestones, side by side. Eleanor stepped into the circle. She wasn't one to scare easily, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Anther shiver ran down her back that had nothing to do with the temperature.

            "Hello."

The soft voice startled Eleanor. She tripped over one of the headstones, landing on the soft grass. Turning around, she saw a young girl standing near the circle's edge, watching her curiously. The girl looked to be about Eleanor's age, though maybe a little older. She had long, white-blonde hair with a severe line of bangs across her pale forehead. There were dark circles under her round, staring eyes. Her white dress was worn and faded. The girl was quite pretty, Eleanor thought, but in a strange, insubstantial kind of way. She looked like one good gust of wind would blow her over.

            Eleanor sat up, brushing dirt off the front of her dress. "Who are you?" she asked, not caring that she was being rude. The girl cocked her head to one side.

            "I'm Loretta," she said, her voice light and melodious, like a flute. "What's your name?"

            "Eleanor."

            "It's nice to meet you, Eleanor. What brings you to our garden?" Loretta asked.

            Eleanor looked around, confused. "It's not a garden," she said, brow furrowed. "It's a graveyard. And it's not yours. It's part of the church."

            Loretta giggled. "Of course it's a garden, silly. You're just not looking properly."

            "But it's still not yours," Eleanor argued.

            "Why would a church need a graveyard?”

            Eleanor couldn’t think of a decent answer to this.

            "Are you here alone?" Eleanor asked instead.

            In answer, Loretta turned and called out behind her. "Des! Danny!"

            Two boys peeked out from behind one of the tombstones. They trotted over to join the two girls standing in the circle. The darker-haired one looked to be the oldest. He had an air of authority about him that the other two lacked. The other boy looked a little younger than Loretta, closer to Eleanor's age. Though he seemed submissive to the older boy, he had a sweeter look that was enhanced by his mousy hair and large, round eyes. Both boys shared Loretta's dark circles and slight appearance.

            "What's going on, Loretta?" the older one asked, his voice commanding.

            "We have a visitor I'd like you to meet," she replied. "Her name is Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Desmond," she said, gesturing to the older boy, "and this is Daniel."

            "It's Danny," the younger boy murmured.

            "Daniel likes to be called Danny," Loretta added for his benefit. Desmond rolled his eyes.

            "Who cares what he's called. What are you doing here?" Desmond demanded of Eleanor. She was still sitting on the ground, and he loomed over her. Eleanor disliked being in such a disadvantaged position, so she stood up. She was pleased to see that the older boy - Desmond - wasn't much taller than her. She was almost able to look him straight in the eyes.

            "I have a right to be here," she said to Desmond, her tone just as bossy as his own. "I live in that house over there on the side of the hill, so I can be here if I want to."

            "I didn't say you couldn't be here," Desmond said. "I just asked why you're here." He grinned, happy to have outsmarted her.

            "I'm exploring," she huffed, still angry at his haughty tone.

            "And you've found our garden. How exciting!" Loretta interjected, interrupting their confrontation. "We never get visitors. The kids from the town don't like it here. Sometimes they run by and throw things at us, but they never want to play."

            "Why do you call it your garden?" Eleanor asked.

            "Loretta's just weird,” Desmond said. “She doesn't like calling it a graveyard. She thinks 'garden' sounds nicer." Loretta stuck her tongue out at Desmond, who smirked back at her.

            "Oh," was all Eleanor could think to say. These three children seemed very odd to her. Something about them wasn't quite right, but she couldn't figure out what it was.

            "Do you like to play games?" Danny asked, his voice low and quiet. Eleanor had to lean forward to hear what he was saying.

            "Yes, I do. Hide and seek is my favorite, but I never have anyone to play with."

            Eleanor saw three pairs of eyes brighten with interest.

            "You can play with us!" Loretta exclaimed, but then she paused, cocking her head to the side once more, the smile falling from her face. "That is, if you'd like to."

            "Sure!" Eleanor replied, smiling. Perhaps it was due to her intense loneliness, but Eleanor was liking these children more and more every second. It was nice to have someone her age to talk to and play with again.

            "Danny's It first!" Desmond called, already running away. Danny frowned, but sat down to start counting.

            "I'll count to twenty," he said to Eleanor. "The circle is base." He started counting to himself, and Eleanor scurried off through the graveyard alongside Loretta. The girl didn't seem to have any trouble navigating the rough terrain; she found a hiding spot behind a large tombstone. Eleanor kept moving, looking behind her to make sure that Danny wasn't searching for them yet. She fumbled her way to the base of a large cedar tree and found the perfect hiding place in a crack in its trunk. She crawled inside and leaned against a soft bit of moss, angled so that she could see out without being seen herself. Danny called out that he was searching, and she bent further back into the damp bark to make sure she was invisible.

            Danny found her first anyway.

            "Sorry, Eleanor," he said, peeking inside the crack. "That's the easiest place to hide, so we make sure to check there first every time." She wriggled her way out of the trunk and wandered back to the circle while Danny searched for Loretta. Desmond was already standing in the circle, a satisfied smile plastered to his face. Eleanor sat down in the grass and watched as Loretta ducked around one side of the tombstone while Danny looked around the other side. She made it to the circle before he could catch her.

            Eleanor had to be It for the next two rounds, as she was unable to find any of the other children. She found Loretta on her second turn, and they continued the game through several more rounds. Danny was It the most, and Desmond wasn't It even once. Eleanor had so much fun playing with her new friends that she didn't even notice how late it was getting.

            The four of them stood in the circle, having just finished another round of hide and seek, when a voice drifted across the graveyard.

            "Eleanor?" she heard her father call; his voice was tense and quiet, and Eleanor could tell he was hoping he wouldn't find her there.

            "I'm here, Father," she called back. "I have to go home now," she said to the three children.

"Will you come back?" Loretta asked, sadness tinging her pretty face. Eleanor nodded, and Loretta's expression brightened. Eleanor's father called her name again, his voice strained with worry.

            "You should come play tomorrow," Desmond said.

            "I have school tomorrow," Eleanor answered, frowning. "I'll try to come tomorrow afternoon, though. Is that okay? Will you be here?"

            "We're always here," Loretta said as Eleanor's father called her name louder and more insistently. Eleanor turned around to see him standing at the gate, and she waved at him to show that she was okay.

            She turned back around to say goodbye to her new friends, but they were gone. Confused, she stood on tiptoe to look around the graveyard, trying to see where they went, but the place was empty and quiet. She bit her lip, wondering where they might have gone and upset that they didn't say goodbye.

            As she turned to leave, one of the headstones in the circle – the one in the middle – caught her eye, and she moved closer to examine it. She hadn't gotten a good look at them earlier before Loretta had startled her and they'd started playing their game, but now she had a chance to read the names inscribed on each one.

            Desmond Benton, Loretta Moffat, and Daniel Jones.

_________________________

For the first time since her mother's death, Eleanor was happy. She'd made friends like her father said she would, though she couldn't help thinking that they weren't the sort of friends he'd been talking about. The fact that they were dead didn't matter to Eleanor; in fact, she liked them all the more for it. Their being dead gave her exclusive rights to their affections. They couldn't leave the church property, and since no one in town dared visit the graveyard, Eleanor was their sole living friend. She liked that she didn't have to share them with anyone else; it made her feel important and loved to know that they liked her alone and no one else.

            Eleanor's new friendship didn't go unnoticed. It was a small town, and no one there was happy unless they knew everyone else's business. Eleanor's odd fondness for the graveyard earned her both fear and scorn from the townspeople. Rumors flew around the school that she was a witch who planned to curse them all into toads or worse. Kids still stared at her as she passed, but they did so out of the corners of their eyes. Eleanor didn't mind; she no longer cared what these dumb kids thought of her. She had real friends that they knew nothing about, and that knowledge was like a talisman against their hatred.

Desmond was the leader of their group; he was the oldest (both in life and death) and therefore the wisest. He'd died trying to prove to his younger brother that he wasn't afraid of heights by climbing to the top of the tallest tree in town. He made it to the very top, but when he turned around to gloat, the thin branch on which he was standing snapped, plummeting Desmond thirty feet to the rock-hard ground. The boy remained as arrogant in death as he had been in life. He decided what games they would play and what the rules were. When he got too bossy, the other three would start a game of making faces when he wasn't looking, which almost always resulted in Desmond getting mad and sulking behind a gravestone while Eleanor and the others played whatever games they wanted. In due course, he'd peek around the stone and, realizing how much fun he was missing, humbly ask to rejoin the group. They always let him.

Loretta was a bit strange, even for a ghost. She knew all about different kinds of plants - she'd died from eating a plant she hadn't realized was poisonous - and she spoke to and about them as if they could understand her. She had the most vivid imagination, and she could spin a story that would keep the other three entranced at her feet. Her moods varied; she could be pensive one moment and cheerful the next, though Eleanor often caught a morose expression on her face when she thought no one was looking.

Danny was quieter than the other two and much more unassuming. Eleanor thought he made a better ghost than either Desmond or Loretta because he was so good at being inconspicuous. Eleanor looked out for him and made sure everyone listened whenever he spoke. She did her best to protect him from Desmond and Loretta's dominating personalities. He was sweet, thoughtful, and observant; he noticed things that the others didn't even know to look for. He could find anyone at hide and seek, but he almost always let the others win because he knew it would make them happy. Eleanor thought he seemed content most of the time. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Danny was her favorite of her three friends. She liked spending time alone with him, because then his personality came through. He never mentioned how he died, and though she was curious, she never asked out of politeness.

_________________________

This was how Eleanor grew up, in a graveyard on the fringes of small-town society. After several years and despite some very convincing rumors that Eleanor did not discourage, the townspeople came to accept her and her father as part of their everyday lives. Their novelty had worn off, and they became a fixture of the town. Her father continued to preach to an empty church - though Eleanor convinced him to stop holding weekday services - but every now and then, they'd get a request for a wedding or funeral.

Eleanor was happy with her life, for a time. As the years went by, she passed Danny, Loretta, and finally Desmond in age. Loretta helped her through the awkward beginning stages of being a teenager, though she was just a girl herself. When Eleanor was about 14, Desmond developed a short-lived crush which resulted in his being so mean to her that Loretta banished him from the group for a week until he could learn to be nicer. Danny never changed toward her, no matter how old she got.

Eleanor loved her friends, and she knew they loved her too, but she was growing up while they remained stagnant, unable to age in death. She began to dream of a better life somewhere far away from the tiny little town where she'd spent the last eight years of her life. She wanted adventure, to experience the fullness of life, and she knew she couldn't do that by staying put. Eleanor knew the day would come when she would leave her friends, and she didn't know how to deal with that. She wasn't sure they saw it coming. The three ghosts were so young and naïve; they seemed to think that nothing would ever change, that Eleanor would stay with them forever. When she was younger, she'd thought the same thing. But as her seventeenth birthday approached, she knew it wouldn't be too long before she'd have to say goodbye. The thought broke her heart.

_________________________

It was April, the perfect time for weddings. They had a wedding planned for every weekend that month; Eleanor and her father stayed busy, attending to everything from service music to decorating the church for the ceremony. Eleanor loved weddings. She enjoyed watching the little ring-bearer saunter down the aisle, holding the plump pillow aloft and the graceful flower girl, tossing delicate petals as she danced down the aisle. Though it was cliché, her favorite part was watching the bride. Eleanor was mesmerized each time by the woman in white drifting down the aisle on a cloud of happiness. It all seemed so perfect and wonderful to her. She dreamed of her own wedding, of stepping onto that cloud of happiness herself and never having to step off of it.

One particular afternoon, after the wedding party had gone next door for the reception, Eleanor had remained behind to clean up the church. She didn't mind cleaning; the menial task allowed her mind to wander to pleasanter things, a pastime she always enjoyed. As she picked up bits of rice from the aisle, Eleanor pictured herself as a young bride, shining and beautiful in a white dress.

Eleanor pulled herself back to the present.

"I know you're there," she said without turning around. "You know you can't frighten me."

"See, guys? I told you it wouldn't work," Desmond complained. Eleanor turned to see her three childhood friends standing near the doorway. They hadn't made any noise when they'd come in – they'd been invisible – but Eleanor had a sort of sixth sense about them now. She could always tell when they were present. It was a useful skill to have when the trio tried to sneak up on her.

"You're no fun, Eleanor," Loretta announced, gliding into a pew to sulk. "Why can't you just let us win sometimes?"

"Because then I wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing your faces when I catch you." Eleanor smiled, affection surging through her as she listened to their banter back and forth. Underlying the affection was something deeper, though, something darker. A sort of sadness that Eleanor couldn't quite put her finger on. She shook the feeling off.

"How was the wedding?" Loretta asked. She always begged Eleanor to let her attend the weddings, but Eleanor knew that the ghost had a difficult time maintaining invisibility when she was excited, so she refused. A ghost sighting during a wedding might put a damper on the celebration.

"Oh, it was wonderful," Eleanor gushed. She sat down next to Loretta and described every detail she could remember to the girl. "I wish you could’ve seen it, Loretta, it was to die for." The two girls giggled at their old joke.

"Ah, shut up about all that mushy stuff," Desmond interjected. "Nobody wants to hear about all that. Come on, Eleanor, let's go play."

"I wish I could, Des, but I have a lot to do today. I promise I'll come out to the graveyard tomorrow, though. How's that?" Desmond scowled. "Oh come on, don't be like that. You know I'm busy on Saturdays."

"It's all right, Eleanor, we understand," Danny said.

"Thank you, Danny," she said, smiling. "I promise-” She broke off at the sound of the church door opening. The three ghosts faded to invisibility.

            "Hello?" A young man that Eleanor recognized as one of the wedding guests poked his head through the door.

"Um…" Eleanor glanced around the church, making sure that her friends were gone. "Can I help you?" she asked the man, taking a tentative step in his direction.

He pushed the door open wider and stepped inside the church looking sheepish. He wasn't an attractive man, but Eleanor found him striking. His blonde hair was long at the top and arched gracefully in front of his eyes. He ran a hand through it to push it out of his face, but it fell right back, somewhat obscuring his clear, blue eyes. The combination of so many light features against his pale skin gave him a somewhat insubstantial appearance.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said, "but I think I left my hat in here somewhere. Have you seen it?"

"Is this it?" Eleanor asked, plucking a shiny black top hat from the pew next to her. A relieved smile broke across the man's face, sending a strange swooping sensation through Eleanor's stomach that wasn't altogether unpleasant.

"That's it! You're a life-saver! My sister would've killed me if she found out I lost it. I borrowed it from her husband, you see, and…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you don't want to hear about all this. I haven't even introduced myself." He held out his hand. "I'm Graham."

"Eleanor," she said, taking his calloused hand. His grip was firm and warm, and Eleanor didn't want to let go. To her disappointment, he pulled away after one quick shake.

"That's a nice name. Eleanor. I like it." His smile was so wide that it looked as though his face might split in two. It crinkled his eyes, and Eleanor thought that he looked like someone who smiled often. She couldn't help liking him, and she hoped he would stay for a bit longer. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave.

“Are you here for the wedding?" he asked her.

"No, I live here, actually, in the parsonage next door. My father officiated the wedding."

"Oh, brilliant," he said, and she relaxed; she'd been worried he'd think less of her once he realized she was just the minister's daughter. "It looks like a nice place to live."

"Thank you. It is, for the most part. I'd love to see the world, though." She smiled and looked away to hide her blush.

"That’s the common dream, though, isn’t it?” he said. She looked up to see sincerity in his expression; she felt her awkwardness melt away as they locked eyes.

The sounds of the wedding party pouring out to the front yard broke their connection. Graham glanced toward the door, then turned back to Eleanor apologetically.

"I'd better go," he said. "They'll be wondering where I am."

"Oh…yes, I'm so sorry. You should go, yeah. I didn't mean to keep you."

"No, don't apologize. It was no problem at all." His mouth split into a grin, and she couldn't help smiling in return. "It was very nice to meet you, Eleanor."

            "You as well."

"I hope this won't be our only meeting." His face reddened, as if he'd said that without thinking first, and Eleanor's heart jumped.

"So do I," she replied, bringing the smile back to his face.

With a wave, he turned, slipped through the church door, and rejoined the wedding party, leaving Eleanor standing alone at the altar.

_________________________

Sunday afternoon, Eleanor came home from the graveyard to find a note taped to her front door. Her name was written in an untidy yet elegant scrawl across the front of the envelope. The note inside was short and to the point. Lunch tomorrow at 11:30 at the Town Inn? Her heart leapt into her throat; Graham's name was signed at the bottom.

_________________________

Eleanor went to lunch with Graham that Monday, then again that Wednesday afternoon. She was able to laugh with him and be herself in a way that she wasn't able to do around anyone else. She enjoyed his company; he had a laidback manner that put her wholly at ease. The ghosts were not very happy with her new friend. They complained that she was spending all her time with Graham instead of with them. They missed her, they said. They never saw her anymore.

Eleanor dismissed their concerns. They were used to seeing her almost every day, and they didn’t want to lose any time with her. Graham wouldn't be in town very long, she told them. She promised that once he left, she'd devote all her free time to them once more.

Graham left on Saturday, a week after they'd first met. The night before his departure, he gave Eleanor his address and made her promise to write to him. She agreed.

They wrote to each other almost daily. Eleanor found that she could talk to Graham about all the things she'd kept to herself - her innermost thoughts, wishes, and dreams for the future. She told him about wanting a big wedding and a family of her own. She told him about her mother, about how she missed her, how she was still angry sometimes. In return, Graham told her about life in the city. He told her about his fears, about how it felt being the oldest son, the heir to a family business he did not want.

Eleanor poured her heart out to him, and it felt good to say all the things she'd kept bottled up through the years. The truth about her friends was the one secret she still kept, the one thing she knew she could never tell him. It was something she could never tell anyone; they’d think she was crazy.

_________________________

Graham came back into town in August, then again at the end of September. Eleanor spent as much time as possible with him when he was in town. After each visit, Eleanor had to deal with the backlash from the ghosts.

"You're abandoning us for him," Desmond accused her.

            "No I'm not, Des. Graham isn't in town often, so I try to spend time with him while he is. What's so wrong with that?"

"You like him better than us," he sulked. Eleanor could see the hurt in his eyes; he believed what he said.

"No, no, Des! Of course I don't!" She stood close to him, crouching so that she could look him in the eyes. "You lot are my best friends, you know that? My very best friends. And you always have been, since the day I met you. You're like family to me, Des. Nothing can change that."

            Desmond looked down. He couldn't cry, but his face scrunched up a little at her words. He tried to hide it so that she wouldn't see.

"I just don't want you to leave us," he said, looking back up and meeting Eleanor's eyes.

"I won't, Desmond. Don't worry about that. I'd never abandon you," Eleanor said, conscience twinging. She told herself that it wasn't really a lie - it was true that she wouldn't abandon them. She just didn't think that Desmond's definition of abandonment quite fit in with her own. The boy looked reassured, so Eleanor changed the subject.

"So are we going to stand around all day, or are we going to play something?"

She played with her childhood friends on that fall afternoon, laughing and singing and smiling like she did as a child of eight who'd made friends for the first time. But her happiness wasn't complete; she felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving her friends, but she knew that day would come, and she didn't know how they would take it.

That moment came sooner than she'd believed it would.

Graham visited again at the end of October, when the leaves were crunching on the ground in hues of red and orange. Eleanor was overjoyed to see him again so soon. He said he had something for her, and before she knew what was happening, Graham was down on one knee. Eleanor went home that day with a golden band around her finger.

_________________________

Eleanor laid in bed that night and didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to tell Desmond, Dan, and Loretta about the engagement. She couldn't express her dreams, her deepest wishes about getting out of this town, not to them. She couldn't tell them how much she loved Graham, how happy he made her. They'd never understand; they'd think she just wanted to leave them. They were so innocent, almost helpless. She didn't know what they'd do if she left them. They'd been there for her for so long; how could she abandon them now, just because she didn't need them as much as they needed her anymore?

            But to stay would be to give up everything she'd ever wanted in life. She couldn't imagine living out her days in this tiny, do-nothing town. She wanted the adventure that life with Graham promised. How could her friends keep that from her? How could they ask her to give that up, if it would make her so happy?

She just hoped they'd understand. She didn't want to hurt them. She never had. She was afraid that now she didn't have any choice.

_________________________

She avoided the graveyard for several days, keeping company with Graham or her father as much as possible in order to keep the ghosts from coming to her. She still didn't know what she was going to say to them, so she stayed away from them, trying to conjure the right words from nothing.

An afternoon came where her father and Graham were both busy, and Eleanor remained alone at the parsonage. She walked to the church to finish decorating for the wedding service her father was holding the next night for a couple in the town. Being alone made her nervous, but she had things to do, and she couldn't avoid the church grounds any longer.

 She managed to finish decorating without any interruptions. She started to relax when she turned and came face to face with the three ghosts. She shrieked in shock, and Loretta giggled.

"We finally got you," she said with a smile, but Desmond shushed her.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "It's been a week since we've heard from you at all! You said last Sunday that you'd visit, but we've been waiting for ages!"

"I-I got distracted," Eleanor mumbled.

"What happened, Eleanor? Why have you been avoiding us? We've been trying to talk to you for days now," he said, sounding more hurt than angry now. Eleanor's heart twisted in her chest.

"I…I've been thinking. I have something to tell you, and I'm afraid you'll be upset with me," she whispered, looking at the ground. She couldn't look at them, couldn't bear to see their hurt, innocent faces.

"You can tell us, Elie," Danny said.

She couldn't help herself. She lifted her head and looked into the faces of the only three friends she'd ever had. Desmond looked angry, Danny looked upset, and Loretta looked as she always did - dreamy and wide-eyed. She felt the prick of unshed tears in her eyes, so she dropped them again.

"Graham has asked me to marry him," she said. Silence greeted this pronouncement. “The wedding is set for next April, and…I’ll be moving to his place in London-”

A voice interrupted her.

"What?" She'd never heard Desmond's voice sound like that. She peeked up at him through her eyelashes; he was wearing the most dangerous expression she'd ever seen on his young face.

"You're getting married?" Loretta's voice was shrill with distress. "But…you said you'd never leave us. You promised, Elie. You promised!"

Danny didn't respond; he simply began sobbing.

This was what Eleanor had feared. Her friends were all in different stages of anguish, and she didn't know what to do to comfort them.

“Guys, please. It’s not the end of the world. I’ll still visit you-”

“That’s not enough! You promised you wouldn’t leave, you liar!” Desmond growled.

Eleanor felt anger rear up inside her.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Desmond,” she snapped. “I have a life to live, and just because the three of you don’t doesn’t mean that you can take mine away.” She regretted her words as soon as she’d said them. Three hurt and angry pairs of eyes stared back at her.

"You can't," Desmond said, his voice deep and threatening. "You. Cannot. Leave. Us."

Loretta and Danny continued their chorus of suffering while Desmond glowered at her with fury. She could almost see fire in his dead eyes. She couldn't stop herself backing away.

"Desmond…Loretta…Danny… Listen to me. I have to do this. I love Graham. I want to be with him.”

Desmond exploded.

"YOU SAID YOU LOVED US!" he roared at her, eyes bulging, and she winced as if he'd struck her. She felt a strong gust of wind from his direction. "YOU SAID WE WERE FAMILY!"

"Desmond, please!" Eleanor begged. "We are family, I just-"

"DON'T LIE TO US. DO NOT LIE TO US AGAIN!" His voice cracked, and the wind almost blew her off her feet. She felt a desperation, a need to make her friends see. It tore her apart inside that she was hurting them, and she wanted to fall to her knees and beg them to understand.

Loretta started screaming, a terrible sound that ripped through Eleanor like knives. Each scream was punctuated by another gust of wind, adding to Desmond's. The gusts were pulling and pushing Eleanor so that she could barely keep her balance. Danny let out a long wail, and the burst of wind that accompanied it knocked Eleanor to the ground. She backed away toward the stairs that led up to the altar.

"Guys, please!" she screamed. "Stop it! Stop it! Please!" She was crying now, but nothing that she did or said had any affect. The idea of losing her seemed to have broken the three ghosts standing in front of her. They looked less real, somehow, as they blew a hurricane through the empty church. The wind ripped decorations from the walls and blew colorful bits of broken flowers across the room. Eleanor heard a vase shatter near the front doors, and large shards of heavy, broken glass flew around the room. One of the shards knocked Eleanor's shoulder, and she cried out in pain, clutching the bloody wound it created.

"Desmond! Loretta!" Eleanor screamed over the storm. "Danny! Look what you're doing! Please! Stop it now!" Another shard smashed into her ankle, and she felt the bone crack.

The screaming stopped abruptly, though the wind continued, and Eleanor looked up to see three pairs of crazed, gleaming eyes that she didn’t recognize boring straight through her. She took the moment of calm to plead with them.

“Please. Let me live my life. I promise I’m not abandoning you, I just need to get away from this place.”

 Three childlike voices answered simultaneously.

"Don’t leave us," the voices said together. "You can’t leave us, Eleanor. You have to stay forever."

Eleanor had never in her life been scared of her friends, but at that moment, she felt terror spread its ice through her veins.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she whimpered as the wind picked up even stronger than before. Its gusts seemed more directed and controlled now.

"If you don't want to stay," the voices said, ". You can never leave us, Eleanor. We love you, Eleanor."

The gale continued to grow, picking up small pieces of debris, then gathering larger bits.

"We love you, Eleanor."

With a deafening crash, the church windows burst inward, raining chunks of shattered glass upon the whole church. Eleanor watched, panic squeezing her heart and lungs, as the wind gathered the glass and broken pieces of pottery into one large gust that forced its way toward her. She screamed in pain and terror, covering her head as the large pieces buffeted against her, striking her leg, arm, shoulder, back.

“Eleanor?!" a voice exclaimed from the other side of the church, and Eleanor lifted her head to see Graham standing in the doorway to the church.

"Graham!" she shrieked, but at that moment, a large piece of glass smashed into the side of her skull, and her body collapsed onto the stone floor, unmoving.

"ELEANOR!" Graham screamed, running toward her limp body, but the wind threw him back toward the door. “ELEANOR!"

"Eleanor belongs to us now," the trio of voices said as the ghosts turned their horrific faces toward Graham. "She is ours…we love her"

The wind flowed back into the church, forcing Graham back inside. It formed a whirlwind of air around the three ghosts, and with a thunderous boom, the ghosts disappeared.

The air was still. Debris covered the floor of the entire church. Graham clambered to his feet and stumbled his way toward Eleanor's still form, his ears ringing in the silence.

"Eleanor," he murmured, reaching for her even from several feet away. He stumbled and fell down next to her. "Eleanor, please don't be dead. Please, Eleanor, please don't be dead."

He pushed the bits of debris off of her and rolled her onto her back. Blood was streaming down the side of her face and shoulder from where the glass had twice struck her. Her ankle was bent, and her wrist was swollen. Graham shook her, but she didn't respond. He pressed two fingers to her neck. His body began to shake, wracked by violent sobs, as the first tears of loss trailed down his face through the grime.

He heard a shrill scream behind him and turned to see a young man and woman from the village standing in the doorway of the church. Eleanor's father shoved his way past them and into the church, where he too let out a yell of shock. His eyes took in the scene, finally coming to rest on the lifeless Eleanor cradled in Graham's arms.

"Get away from my daughter, you bastard!" he screamed, rushing across the debris-strewn floor toward Graham.

"I-I didn't-" Graham started, but the preacher thrust him away from Eleanor. He crushed her beaten body to his chest, rocking back and forth.

"My daughter…my only daughter…" he moaned.

"No…ghosts…there were ghosts…they did this to her…to Eleanor…they…they…" Graham stuttered. Several policemen were streaming into the church now. Graham didn't fight as they handcuffed him and dragged him out through the broken doors. Someone laid a hand on the father's shoulder, but he ignored it.

"My beautiful little girl," he sobbed as he continued rocking his daughter to her eternal sleep.

_________________________

He had dug the grave himself, late into the afternoon. It had to be perfect, just like she deserved.

He hated burying her in this little town. He knew she'd hated it here, but he'd never paid her feelings any mind. How he regretted that now.

At least she was out here, next to the parsonage and away from the graveyard. He'd never liked the graveyard; it always felt ominous to him, even though she seemed to spend most of her time there. He couldn't bear to leave her in the midst of that miserable place.

Her body, wrapped in a white sheet, was lying on the ground next to him. He couldn’t stand to look at it. It didn't feel like her anymore.

Eleanor's father placed her body inside the hole in the ground. He stared at it for a moment, unable to avert his gaze. He felt detached, like his body couldn't handle the amount of grief he was feeling, so it turned off all emotion. He took a step back, picked up the shovel, and began refilling the hole.

When he was finished, he placed the stone, engraved with her name and dates of life, at the head of her grave. He couldn't think of anything else to carve on the stone that didn't sound meaningless – words that had come too late.

He knelt at her grave for a moment after positioning the stone, staring at the fresh dirt. In time, grass would grow over it.  The small mound would become yet another part of the landscape. Only the stone would remain to commemorate the young girl sleeping beneath the ground.

He didn’t hold a proper funeral, because no one came. The one man who might have was locked away. He'd read it in the paper that morning.

He stood up and dragged himself back toward the parsonage, wiping the dirt from his hands.

As he passed, he didn't see the three, pale figures standing expectantly at the edge of the grave. The lonely trio of ghosts waited, but the only thing that changed around them was the movement of the setting sun. As night crept over them, the girl took each boy’s hand, and they faded into the darkness.  There was no moon that night.