It was the last month of fall. I was 14. Aspen was 11.
It had become unusually cold unusually fast this year, and me and Aspen begged mom and grandma to go out and play.
"Of course, just stay off the lake," Grandma said sweetly. We cheered and high-fived, racing to get our snow gear on.
We ran around, playing, jumping, building snowmen, and making snow angels for hours. We ran inside for lunch and ran right back out. The sun was starting to get low in the sky when we laid at the edge of the lake, and it was already frozen over.
"I can't wait till we can ice skate again," I said to Aspen, looking over at her. Her long, dark hair looked like oil spilled around her, and her straight nose and cheeks were red from the cold. She looked over at me and smiled. "Me neither." She then sat up, and I did the same.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I wanna play a game," she said, smiling. "Let's have a snowball fight!"
I laughed, the sky beginning to fill with shades of orange and pink. "You always knock me flat down when we play, it's not fair!" I protested, and she laughed.
"I'll go easy on you," she pleaded, and I looked up at the sky in thought. Two butterflies were dancing above us, one black and one white. I gasped.
"Aspen, loo—"
A snowball collided with my face that same instant, hard and stinging. I gasped, grabbing my cheek. She looked concerned for a second before a smile grew on my face. "Oh, you're gonna get it!" I hollered, balling up some snow and throwing it at her. She turned at just the right moment and it hit the back of her head and she giggled.
I was now on my feet, as was she, and I began to move, running to a different side of the lake to escape her strong throws. I returned them, laughing and falling over myself.
I was collecting more snow to make a ball when Aspen's voice changed completely, to one of terror. "Willow," she said quietly, as though afraid to disturb the very snow below her. I turned quickly, and the smile on my face melted.
"Aspen, get off of there!" I shouted, but she was already far in. And I could hear the ice below her cracking and splitting. She looked at me, terror on her face, as I scrambled to the side closest to her. "Come her, fast!"
Everything went still for just a moment. Quiet. Too quiet.
Her cry of terror broke through the silence for a split second as the ice beneath her broke for good, and she went under.
"Aspen! Aspen!" I cried, pawing at the edge of the snow. And through the too-thin ice, I could see her, fighting, trying to swim, causing waves in the water.
"Aspen!"
Then she stilled.
And, for a moment, the world stopped all movement. Even the stray snowflakes falling seemed to pause.
I only turned around for a second.

I woke up, sweat down my back and my breathing ragged. Dog was up in a second, whining and licking my hand. I pinched my fingers over my eyes and gave him a head rub. "I'm okay, buddy," I said, standing up slowly and making my way to the bathroom.

The house was quiet. Natalie was asleep in my mom's room because she wouldn't stop complaining about how the couch hurt her back and it creaked when she moved and yadda yadda. I tiptoed into the bathroom and flicked the light on, wincing as the fluorescents buzzed to life. I took in my rough appearance, eye bags heavy under my eyes and my hair unruly on my head. I sighed, grabbing my brush and untangling my hair. I could use a shower, I thought, and turned on the water. It always takes longer to heat up in the winter, so I stood idly in the mirror, scrutinizing myself.

It was finally hot enough to get in, and I let the hot water run over my body, washing away any memory of the dream.

I had just turned away for a second.

The thought sent a chill down my spine, and i generously lathered my head with my home-made lavender shampoo and let the smell wash away the thought. Or try to. Long after I was done scrubbing my skin, I sat, letting the hot water scald me.

I finally decided I had enough and got out, drying off swiftly. I wouldn't be able to function tomorrow if I didn't get more sleep, so I pulled on some fresh night clothes and slipped into the library, turning on a lamp at one edge.

Book of Spells. Juniper's Life. Olive's Life. Elma's Life. Hazel's Life.

Aspen's Life.

My hand hesitated over the book. It was one of the skinniest among the life books as she died younger than almost anyone else in the family, other than the ones who fell to illnesses as babies.

After a moment's consideration, I moved passed it. Not for tonight.

I then remembered the book of medicine was downstairs, and I let out a breath, turning to leave, but something stopped me. I looked back at Aspen's book. After a moment's courage, I grabbed it off its shelf and tossed it into my room to read when I came back, flicking off the lamp on my way out.

The sleep tea called for lemon rind, lavender, a bay leaf (stirred in for less than a minute, more than half a minute), and chamomile oil wiped around the rim. For restless nights, it reads, and I follow all instructions and drink it greedily. It immediately makes my brain fog over, and I head back up the stairs, stopping at the first step when I hear a tap, tap, tap at my front window. Not now, I think, slowly retracing my steps back to the living room. But it's not the butterflies.

Chris is at my window, face desperately pressed against the glass, trying to see inside. I catch his eye and he smiles, waving desperately.

My heart jumps out of my chest, and I run over to the door and open it. "Chris? What are you doing here? It's 12 at night," I scold, reminding myself of my mother.

"Something's wrong," he says hastily. "I think something seriously bad happened the night I disappeared."

The sleep drink begins to work on my brain, and I press a hand to my forehead. I sigh and open the door wider to let him in, and he brushes past me, smelling like a fire.

"Tell me tomorrow," I say. "I just made sleep tea, and I have approximately 5 minutes before I pass out." He nods in agreement, and flops down onto the couch. "You can sleep in the room across from mine, if you'd like. Just be quiet. This girl's asleep in my mom's room down the hall."

"Girl?" He asks, but I let out a wide yawn and he quickly adds, "Tell me tomorrow."

I nod, leading him up the stairs and pointing to the room. My great-grandmother, Juniper, lived there before, and her room had sat dormant for around 70 years now. He slips inside with a quiet thank you and gently shuts the door.

I return to my room and see Aspen's book sitting on my bed next to Dog, staring up at me. I close my own door and trod over, turning my lamp on.

I slip into my bed and inspect the cover.

The Life of Aspen Shade
Recorded by: Elma Shade

I sigh and flip open the front cover.

Aspen was the strongest baby in the world. The strongest toddler. Her mother believed she could rip the house right off its foundation if she pleased. However, she had a huge heart, and always cared for little bugs she found inside the house, returning them outside. She befriended wildlife with ease. Her older sister Willow and her would often play from sunrise to sunset. Her nightshade was pure, unbridled strength; her tantrums could shake the Earth and move mountains.

She lived a short, fulfilling life, surrounded by those who loved her, including her grandmother, her mother, and sister. Her favorite time of day was when the sun was at its highest point in the sky, her favorite color was baby pink. She enjoyed Elton John, Elvis Presley, and more of the classics. She had yet to make her own stories to fill the pages of this book with.

The day she died, she fell into a lake that wasn't strong enough to hold her yet. Her body was never recovered. She died happy, as one of the most joy-filled children this world has had the pleasure of having in it.

Aspen Shade
Born July 31st, 2007
Died November 12, 2018

A tear falls as I finish the book. Only three pages, with the fourth having a beautiful aspen tree burned into the page. I run my finger over it, and I hope what it said was true. I hope she was happy when she died. Exhaustion sweeps over me, harder this time, and I put the book on my nightstand, flicking off the lamp and letting sleep drag me under.

-

I woke up the next day, my mind thick with the fog of sleep. I checked the time, and it was 9 AM. I groaned and rolled over, resting my arm over Dog.

He began to lick my face, and I giggled, pushing him away. "Need to use the bathroom?" He responded with another lick to the face. I sighed, a smile on my face, and pushed myself up.

I got dressed for the day, and began to go down the stairs when I noticed great-grandma Juniper's door was slightly agape. I pushed it open to see her sheets perfectly made, and her bed vacant. Maybe Chris is already awake. Maybe he's meeting Natalie.

I begin my descent down the stairs when a mouth-watering aroma hits my nose. Biscuits. I scale the last few in a minute, expecting my mom to be standing in the kitchen, but it's Natalie.

"Good morning! I decided to make some biscuits as a thanks for taking me in." She gave me an earnest smile that made me hesitate. Maybe she had changed like she said. I walked over to the door and opened it to let Dog out and saw the footprints leading away from the house, to the lake and farther away. Chris must be out on a morning walk, then.

"Did you see Chris this morning?" I ask lazily, gently shutting the door behind me.

Every movement in her muscles freezes. She laughs nervously. "What'd you say?"

Her reaction took me off guard, but suddenly I feel like there might be a reason Chris ran off early. I think something seriously bad happened the night I disappeared.

So I brush it off like nothing with a chuckle. "I said, did you see crickets this morning?"

She lets out a too-loud laugh, but I can see the change in her mannerisms. She's playing with her hair, drumming her fingers on the counter. "No, I hadn't. Have you?"

"No," I respond with a laugh. Something is wrong. I need to talk to Chris. I need to get Natalie out of the house.

I look out the window and see Dog prancing in the snow, a sight that would normally bring me comfort. But something pulls on my gut. I think something seriously bad happened the night I disappeared keeps replaying in my head, an I now wish I had listened to what he had to say.

"Biscuits are ready whenever you are," Natalie said cheerily from the kitchen, and I turn and give her my best smile.

But I know it doesn't reach my eyes.