Free The Whispering Hollows by Lisa Unger Page B

Burning Girl was standing behind Miriam, looking like a normal little girl again, not burning, not combusting with rage. She just stood there beside Miriam, almost leaning into her. If anyone else could see her, they’d assume that she was Miriam’s child. Their energies were wrapped around each other, mingled.
    Talk turned to the graveyard that sat on state land at the edge of the property that Nick himself owned and where he lived with his family. Some people wanted the graves moved to the other, larger site over by the road; some wanted the gravestones restored. There was a small church there as well. If renovated, it could serve as a museum, suggested Joy Martin, a tribute to the people who lived and died in The Hollows.
    Sounds like fun , someone quipped.
    The Burning Girl started to cry.
    What do you want? Eloise wondered.
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    That night, The Burning Girl took Eloise into the woods. The girl skipped through the trees, past a dilapidated and long-abandoned one-room house, weaving in and out of the towering trees. The girl was a sprite, at home in the forest, not afraid of the dark. How long had she been out here alone?
    As they walked, Eloise could hear The Whispers. They had so many stories to tell. If you listened too hard, you could disappear into it. It will drive you mad , said Agatha. Tune it out as much as you can. This directly conflicted with the advice her departed daughter Emily had given her once. It seemed like a million years ago that Emily had visited Eloise while she was tending the garden. Just listen , Emily had said that day. Who was right?
    Eloise lost sight of the girl, but she kept walking. The moonlight, in its silver-white way, was as bright as the sun. And when she came upon the little graveyard, it looked almost magical, even with the gravestones tilting like a mouth of crooked teeth, the church that was little more than a ruin of stones. The place was overgrown with weeds and a variety of wildflowers.
    Eloise saw Miriam sitting among the stones. The young woman looked dewy and fresh, flushed with happiness, as she linked flowers into a chain. Eloise understood that she was seeing Miriam as she was in the past, before her daughter was born.
    Miriam was singing. Eloise moved in closer to hear the words.
    Little flowers in the garden,
    Yellow, orange, violet, blue,
    Little angels in the garden,
    Do you know how I love you?
    Eloise felt a strange chill move through her. And then she experienced something she had never experienced before—a vision within a vision. Talk about disappearing down the rabbit hole. She saw a woman leaning over a claw-foot bathtub weeping. She wore a long, white dress. Then it was Miriam in a dirty, flannel nightgown. Then it was the woman in white again. Then Eloise was back in the graveyard, her head spinning. Miriam kept singing.
    Little flowers in the garden,
    Growing tall toward skies of blue,
    Little flowers in the garden,
    Oh, your mama so loves you.
    The Burning Girl danced around the graves. She was laughing, but it wasn’t a nice laugh. It was mean-spirited and edgy, laced with anger and sadness. The sound of it made Eloise’s blood run cold.
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    Eloise came back to herself in her own bathtub, bleeding from the head where she’d obviously hit it on the faucet. There was blood on the white porcelain, on her hands, down the front of her blouse. She climbed out of the tub and moved over to the sink. In the mirror, she saw the big gash just over her right eyebrow; it would need stitches.
    Eloise turned on the faucet, smearing that with blood, too. Using a washcloth, she cleaned the wound. The blouse she was wearing would have to go in the trash. A vision within a vision , she thought. That was too much. Could she just go deeper and deeper, until there was no way out again? Eloise realized that she was going to need some help with The Burning Girl.
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    Agatha