Free Snow White Sorrow by Cameron Jace Page A

ghost in a white hood sitting in his backseat.
    The ghost had long, black hair waving from underneath the hood as if floating underwater. Its face was hollow and had two glowing-red spots where the eyes should be. For a moment, Loki’s scream startled the ghost; unexpectedly, it bounced against the windows like a ball in a pinball machine—Loki had assumed ghosts walked through walls, but there was no time to argue.
    When the ghost finally settled in the middle of the backseat, Loki watched it reach for him. It had skeleton fingers that shimmered like a wraith out of a movie projector, and when it reached for his face, Loki tried not to wet himself.
    The ghost snatched the unlit cigarette from Loki’s drooling lips then disappeared underneath the hood again. Loki heard a flicker of a match followed by the sound of the ghost drawing on the cigarette, finally puffing out spirals of curly smoke into the car.
    “How many times have I warned you about cigarettes?” the ghost complained, talking in a heavy Russian accent, staring at him in the mirror. Loki watched the ghost’s face slowly turn corporeal.
    Wait. I know that ghost!
    Loki let out a long sigh. It was all right. The ghost was just his—
    “Mom?” he squinted in the mirror.
    “Who else scares you like I do?” she said, looking happy while smoking her stolen cigarette.
    “You look…awful,” Loki said. “And scary,” he meant it as compliment. Ghosts love to look scary.
    “Behave, Loki,” she pouted in her own monstrous way. “I don’t look awful. I’m only aging. I was the prom queen when I was your age.”
    Yeah, yeah. Everyone’s mom was the prom queen.
    “ You look more like my ex-mom, mom ,” he mumbled, shying away from her hollow eyes. Although she was turning corporeal, Loki had always wondered why his mom was different from other ghosts. She didn’t have the ability to venture through walls, and she looked more like a zombie than a ghost.
    “Naughty boy,” she slapped him on the cheek. “Didn’t I ask you not to call me ‘mom’? It makes me feel old.”
    “You are old, mom—I mean Babushka,” Loki hated calling her by that name. His earliest memory of her was from just a year ago after Charmwill had unshadowed him. While Charmwill took care of him, she was rarely around. She only appeared when she felt like it, criticizing his sleeping habits, reminding him to brush his teeth before sleep, urging him to clean his car, knitting the holes in his trousers and socks, and pestering him about meeting an earthly girl he could fall in love with and marry. Calling her Babushka was silly; he needed to taste the word mom on his lips more often. It made him feel loved.
    “I was just kidding,” Babushka killed the cigarette in the palm of her hand. It produced a funny odor that made Carmen cough a little. “You can call me mom all you want. After all, I am your mom, and you’re my little Loco.”
    “Please don’t call me Loco. And by the way, what made you remember you actually had a son, Babushka ?” Loki asked her, but she disappeared suddenly from the backseat and popped up next to him in the passenger seat.
    He didn’t know why, but she freaked him out.
    Relax, Loki. It’s just your mom.
    “Wombles!” Loki banged his hands against the wheel. He didn’t know why, but wombles was the only word he used when he wanted to swear in his mom’s presence. “You can’t freakin’ sneak up on me like that, mom.”
    Babushka teased him, tickling him under his chin before she swooshed, disappearing into the backseat again.
    “Did I scare you, Loki?” she leaned forward, looking happy that she had.
    Loki didn’t blame her. He knew that scaring him was an act of affection, more like cuddling to her. Even if it freaked him out, he knew she loved him dearly, and it wasn’t her fault she died and became a ghost—he had asked her once how she’d became one, and she told him she died trying to save a kid who was about to be hit by a truck