The Tidings - [Ghost Huntress 0.5 - A Christmas Novella] by Marley Gibson

inappropriate.”
    “Perhaps, but it’s the truth. Look at her up there.”
    I can’t. I can’t sit here and watch my baby sister do a strip tease for these malefactors waving sweaty, crinkled dollar bills at her. Overturning my bar stool, I rush the stage.
    “Kaitlin! Stop this! This isn’t who you are!”
    “Who is she, Kendall?” Patrick shouts.
    Tears blind my vision as my sister continues her routine. “Kai-Kai! Please don’t! You’re so much better than this. How did you end up here?”
    “Do you really want to know?” the ghost asks of me.
    I growl at him. “I can’t control another person’s life or their destiny. Kai-Kai… don’t….”
    Phantom Patrick plays with the sleeve of his long, black robe. “No, you can’t. However, you can greatly influence someone else. The rift between you and Kaitlin just grew and grew and grew until it ripped your family apart. She moved out, never went to college, never spoke to you or your parents again. Now look at her.”
    “I don’t want to.”
    I desperately try to throw myself before my sister, blocking her rotation on the pole in front of her. But I’m just an unseen visitor in this time, so my efforts fail.
    “Oh Kaitlin… I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
    Falling to my knees, I break down in horrendous sobs as my little sister—no longer little, but a full-grown woman—degrades herself in front of these drunken animals. With each dance move, she spits in the face of everything she’s been taught in life by our parents.
    I feel my heart breaking into the four chambers of ventricles and atriums. “I don’t want this. I don’t want this at all. Please….”
    I shouldn’t have complained about fixing Kaitlin’s dress. I should have asked to see her trophy. I should have sat out on the porch and celebrated the soccer win with her and her friends. Would that have stopped this horrible collision course my sister’s on?
    Ghostly Patrick encompasses me and lifts me off the ground. “Okay, there, I think we’ve made our point.”
    Poof!
    The stinky bar, revolting patrons, and alternate universe Kaitlin are gone.
    “I got it!” I say to my guide. “I’ve. Got. It.”
    Patrick rubs my hair to sooth me. I don’t know if anything will ever erase that horrid scene from my mind, even if it was only a “possibility” or merely a dream.
    “Don’t you have anything happy to show me?” I ask as I wipe away remnants of my crying jag.
    “As a matter of fact, I do.”
    He pushes up the sleeves of his Reaper-ish cloak and snaps his fingers.
    I’m now in a snow-filled park. Chubby white flakes sail peacefully down from the sky, landing in drifts around me. A Christmas tree off in the distance flickers in the twilight. Ice sculptures of penguins, castles, and a full Santa sleigh are spotlighted for all to see. Skaters circle around in a nearby rink, bundled up for the cold in fleece, gloves, and scarves.
    “Where are we?” I ask.
    “I believe we’re in Boston,” Patrick tells me.
    I look all around me. “This is the Boston Common. It’s gorgeous!” All of the surrounding trees are draped in white lights, outlining their bare branches in a wintry beauty. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”
    “Now you have. This way, please. I want to show you something.”
    I follow Phantom Patrick down the paved path that’s been shoveled to clear the snow out of the way. The fresh dusting of icy wonder tickles my nose and eyelashes, just like in the song, “My Favorite Things.”
    Bright lights flood the area before us. It’s a man-made skating rink filled with tons of people taking a turn this Christmas Eve. Yes, it’s Christmas Eve here in Boston. I can feel it in my bones. A nearby sign says the place is called “Frog Pond.” How quaint. It’s what I’ve always pictured New England to be.
    “I used to ice skate,” I tell the ghost. “When I lived in Chicago, my dad took Kaitlin and me to the rink every Saturday in December. I was pretty