The Ghost Girl (short story) by Christopher Stasheff

Author:Christopher Stasheff [Stasheff, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Stasheff Literary Enterprises
Published: 2017-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

The boy froze staring in the path. The shaman stepped up and looked at him quietly. The youth recognized him and began to breathe again, and his limbs slowly came back from stone.

The shaman held him a while longer, and then turned back to the cabin. He went a little way through the tall grass and then turned to look back at the boy, who had not moved. The shaman motioned toward the cabin with hid head and turned and walked on. The boy watched him a little longer, and then followed.

They entered the house. The shaman hung up his cloak and, sitting in his chair by the hearth, began filling his pipe. He looked up at the youth, who stood, looking about, just inside the door. The shaman gestured towards a chair that stood by the other side of the hearth. The youth came over to it but, instead of sitting, untied his cloak. He stood, holding the rain-soaked garment, looking about the room. The shaman smiled, rose, and hung the cloak by the fire. The boy sat, hesitantly, testing the chair before trusting his full weight to it.

The shaman knelt and took a burning twig from the fire to light his pipe. Then he brought two mugs from the shelves on the wall and filled them from the clay pot. He held one mug out to the youth, who took it warily, his eyes never leaving the shaman's face. He sipped the tea, watching the shaman who sat in his chair, his mug on his knee and his pipe at his lips, starring into the fire.

Thus they sat for quite a while, and little by little the youth began to watch the fire instead of the shaman. When the mug was empty the shaman gave the youth one of the long, red pipes, and the boy drew at it slowly, coughing quite a bit at first but quickly acquiring the taste.

Hours ticked by on the rough oaken clock on the mantle, and the youth's head fell against the leather back of the chair. The shaman smiled and fetched a bearskin, which he draped gently over the sleeping boy.

After a while the fire died down, and the coals warmed the cabin all night long.

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