"Pay attention to meee!" My great-grandfather Jakob whines, flicking my nose with his forefinger and pouting theatrically.

I close my eyes and sigh deeply, mentally counting to ten. I don't want to do something that I may or may not regret the next morning. Hex, he might even give up this time.

But there's no such luck today, I'm afraid. For a couple of blissful seconds, there is silence, and I slowly crack an eye open, letting myself believe that he has actually left me alone for once.

..Until I feel my long honey-colored hair lift up behind me, and a deceptively strong male hand gives it a hard yank.

I give a sharp yelp and swat him away. "Hey! Hands off of my hair, you crazy old man!"

He gives me as innocent a look as he can manage. "Me?"

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Do you see any other crazy old men about?"

He looks left and right, seemingly hopeful to find some evidence of another attention-starved relative of ours in the vicinity. Finding none, he rolls his eyes. "Now your grandfather-"

"-Don't you dare bring granddaddy Izaak into this! This is about you at the moment."

He smirks at me triumphantly. "And it's about time, too!"

I gape at him. "What? No!"

He chuckles gleefully. "Oh, yes. I do believe that I've won this round, dear Evelyn. You can attribute it to my natural brilliance in all things."

I stare at him levelly and flex my hand. "I once observed you pulling on a door that was clearly meant to be pushed."

Jakob shrugs, giving my hand a nervous glance. "I'm sure that it's happened to everyone at least once at some point in their lives."

"Yes, yes, of course." I hum. "And I'm sure that they all spent a further thirteen minutes trying to force it open the wrong way, as well."

Great-grandfather's face flushes. "Impertinence!" He screeches. "You saw my struggle, and yet you chose not to assist me?!!"

"I didn't think that I'd need to! You're a ghost, after all!" I fire back. "I assumed that you'd simply phase through the door, not have a fight with it!"

Jakob stares down at the ground in shame, looking redder than a tomatoberry. "I forgot." He mumbles.

"How do you forget that you're a ghost?!!"

"It's- Ooh... It's complicated." He grumbles. "This isn't the kind of attention I had in mind.."

"I told you earlier today, I'm going to that ball with Arissa. You know how Lord Lumos values me keeping his wild daughter in check."

Jakob snorts. "Fancy the offspring of such fine stock becoming friends with the daughter of a mere undertaker. I don't understand it."

"Maybe she likes me. Have you ever thought of that?"

"No, that can't be it." He suddenly brightens. "How about I join you two-"

"-NO!!!" I shout. "..I mean, that's very generous of you to offer, but no, thank you." I add firmly. "This is supposed to be our girl time."

Jakob guffaws. "I know that you care nothing for sure frivolous gaiety! You can't trick me! You just want to be rid of me!"

"For a change." I mutter. "Please leave me alone for a few hours, I'd greatly appreciate it."

He grabs my shoulders and looks dead into my eyes. "You cannot escape your past." He intones gravely, floating up a few inches off of the ground for extra ethereal effect.

"What past?!!"

He pauses, looking confused. "Ooh, I don't rightly know. I thought that it would be dramatic enough to scare you and make you stay with me."

"It's having the opposite effect, honestly." I get up on my tiptoes and check the time on the church's clock tower. "It's nearly six! Now please go away before she arrives and notices you."

"Ooh, piffle!" He waves a hand carelessly, and we both watch it go through my collarbone. He withdraws it hastily. "Not many people have the gift, as you well know. She'll be none the wiser."

"Not if you drop another vase onto her head, she won't. It was hard enough explaining the mysterious moaning rocking chair to her the last time that she visited. How do you think that father would react if he knew that a ghost in his charge was misbehaving?"

"I'm not frightened of any grandson of mine!"

I give Jakob a menacingly little smile. "And what about great-granddaughters?"

He hems and haws, avoiding direct eye contact with me. "I suppose that I need to speak with your father about.. Something vague."

"And for that, I'm immensely grateful. Now shoo! I love you, but leave us be."

He grumbles loudly, but disappears a moment later. His gaunt, slightly stooped form is superimposed over a human-sized rectangle of ghostly vapor before he vanishes from my sight.

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank Nox. Now I can enjoy my life for a little while."

"Ev! Evelyn! Evvy! I'm here! Didya miss me?" I see a red blob bouncing rapidly towards me out of the corner of my eye, so I wave in its general direction.

"Why, if it isn't my old friend Arissa Lumos! Are you ready to g- Oh."

Arissa rounds the stone wall surrounding much of our property, and I stagger back in mock horror. The tall redhead's hair is coming out of an otherwise relatively neat-looking bun, no doubt expertly (and expensively) done up. One shoulder of her frothy emerald-green ballgown seems half torn off, while the bottom hem of the selfsame garment is ripped in several areas. And she's barefoot, not that that is very surprising when you know her as well as I do.

I stand back and cross my arms over my chest. "Well, what happened this time? Were you caught in the middle of a bullfight, or what?"

"Pfft! Don't be ridiculous! ..One of papa's business associates gave our family a pet bear as a present today, so I was trying to make friends with it."

Alright, that's a new one. "Judging from the sorry state of you, might I assume that you've failed?"

Arissa swings a pair of emerald-encrusted high heels up over her shoulder and squinches her eyes at me. "Absolutely not! Never! It's just a minor setback, nothing more. I will train it to bring me honey and do tricks, you'll see that I shall. And you'll bear witness to my greatness." She adds, pointing at me enthusiastically.

My mother chooses this moment to peek out through the doorway. "Is your friend here yet, dear?" She then gasps in shocked dismay upon noticing the state of Arissa's ballgown. "What a travesty..!"

Mother flutters a hand over her mouth, then steels herself for the mammoth task ahead. "Lady Arissa, would you come inside, please?"

"Hello, Mrs. Mortis. It's a lovely even-"

"-Now, dear child. I will not allow you to be out amongst polite company looking the way that you do."

"Right away, Ma'am." Arissa obediently follows mother into our house, casting a longing glance at our kitchen as she passes by.

"Parlor!" Mother calls. "Evelyn, bring me my sewing basket."

"..And if it's not too much trouble, may I have a teeny-tiny biscuit as well, please?" Arissa turns to my mother and shakes her head with exaggerated exhaustion. "It's been a very tiring day." She says seriously, sitting down onto our couch with a yawn.

I swoop into the kitchen and seize a biscuit, tucking it into my pocket for the moment, then pick up mother's sewing basket from the side table by the entryway.

Mother takes the basket as I hand it to her. "I can imagine." She chuckles as I fake pulling the biscuit from behind my back, only to palm it from my pocket and hand it to an eagerly waiting Arissa.

"Yay! Real food! I'm sick of that slimy caviar."

I take hold of Arissa's snack for a moment, allowing her to fumble her arms out of the confines of her dress. "How can mama live like this, it's torture!" She mutters. She then grabs the biscuit out of my hand and blissfully finishes it off, her eyes shut tight with pleasure.

Mother's eyes dart up and lock with mine.

Hurry. I mouth back.

She nods once, then smiles and holds out a palm, facing it towards the china cabinet in the corner of the room.

I quickly stand in front of Arissa, lest she opens her eyes and notices something amiss.

All at once, the cups and saucers rattle violently for a second, then settle down again.

"Another earthquake." Arissa mumbles, already half asleep.

You'll miss the show, my Lady. Grandma's favorite teacup, the one boasting the hand-painted periwinkles, lifts up from the top shelf and vibrates. A faint unearthly glow emanates from within it as an older woman's voice echoes in our heads.

Figures. Mental talk with the living is much less taxing on a ghost's energy than actually speaking out loud, but it does tend to make the one with the gift look like an utter lunatic as she seemingly speaks to thin air.

Hello, my beloved daughter. And Evelyn. How is life treating you?

"Terribly, thanks for asking." I whisper back.

Grandma's teacup shivers with amusement. Is daddy giving you a hard time still?

"Forever and always, the monster."

Hmm... I see that I'll have to speak with him once again on the matter.

"Um, I'm sorry to bother you, but could you possibly come out of the teacup, if it's not too much trouble?" I ask, glancing nervously behind me. "The Lady won't sleep for long."

The teacup gives me a little bow. Of course.

A blue haze escapes from the confines of the drinking vessel and takes on a clear human form. Then the spectral mist turns its head, first from me, then to Arissa, then finally to mother, who sighs.

"I- We, need your help. It's rather urgent."

The ghost hums. "Another dress?"

"Yes, mommy. Could you help us?"

"Naturally." Grandma reaches a hand towards the dress clutched tightly in mother's grasp. "Give it here."

Mother abides, and grandma picks a threaded needle out from her sewing basket. The elder peers at us and huffs at mother's obvious concern. "Don't worry, my child. We'll fix it lickety-split, and people will be none the wiser." She winks at me good-humoredly. "Maybe we'll even make some modifications, yes?"

"Heh. The Lady loves your modifications, anyway. I bet she destroys those flippant dresses on purpose."

Grandma sits down and lifts the dress over her knee. "I'm almost certain that she does indeed do it deliberately. Daughter dear, take the showy bit. I'll do the bottom hem." She slides mother's shears within easy reach, ready to cut off the damaged portion of Arissa's dress.

Mother eases herself into the chair opposite her. "One finely stitched shoulder, coming right up! How do you feel about a cascade of red roses over the seam, to cover the repair?"

"That will certainly look sensational. Evelyn, be a dear and fetch us some from the garden. I expect I'll have the skirt portion done by then."

"As you wish." I walk through the parlor door and veer towards the kitchen, first picking up a small wicker basket and a pair of snips from the counter. Then I head outside, where a faded-looking man in his early sixties stands, pruning away the withered blooms from a rather large, impressive-looking red rose bush.

He barely glances my way, choosing to instead focus on removing the debris from around the base of the shrub, though he nods to me as he passes by with an armload of cuttings.

I politely stand by and wait for him to finish his task.

When he returns from the compost pile, I give him the basket and cutters. "May I please have about two dozen of those beautiful roses, Gregory?"

His cheeks darken with delight at the compliment, and he smiles shyly, nodding once more. He extends his arm towards my implements, so that I may carefully hang the basket from his elbow. I place the snips inside and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you."

He bashfully lowers his head and shuffles to the bush. Next, he drags a ladder, previously hidden by the shrub's foliage, into place beneath it, then cautiously climbs up the rungs.

In the meantime, I lean against the side stone wall and admire our garden. The ghost, whom I've come to know as Gardening Gregory, (which is a made-up name that I bequeathed him when I was a toddler, seeing as to how he's never spoken for as long as I, or indeed anyone, can remember) is most definitely the reason why our garden is one of the neatest and well-kept in all of Miria.

Clematis trails down the back wall of the house, giving way to wisterias and morning glories at its corners. Sweeping fronds of ferns border a minute cobblestone pathway, overarched by a winding row of assorted fruit trees on either side, providing shade.

The pathway separates into three distinct branches after that. The one on the left leads to a generously sized herb garden, where zesty aromas continually waft through the air. The one on the right takes a soul to the fruit and vegetable path, where one can eat their fill of sun-warmed delights. And the middle path opens out onto a field of flowers, both wild and domesticated, before swooping down to a wooden bridge overlying a freshwater stream. Beyond that lies the village pond, and the village itself.

I squint up at the sky, watching the sun begin to set over the horizon. Tongues of fiery orange lap at the tops of the distant hills.

All of a sudden, the hairs on the back of my neck lift up, and I feel a tingle run the length of my spine. But it's not the oft-annoying, all-too-familiar electric tingle of a ghost appearing. Rather, it is one of unease.

I think that I'm being watched right now.

Word count: 2258