Young Writers Society

Finnley barely looked at the caller ID before answering the phone. He knew it was Mia. “Mia?” he called into the silence, pushing Rory away as the rabbit nuzzled into his elbow. At first, there was only ragged breathing on the other end. Finnley’s heart pounded in his chest and he inquired again: “Mia?”

“Finnley,” Mia said in a hoarse whisper, and Finnley had never been so happy to hear his friend’s voice.

“Oh man, Mia, you gave me a scare. Are you alright?” he asked, leaning forward in bed as if he could reach her. She tended to call at odd hours of the day and night, but... not like this.

“It was a nightmare,” she said after a moment. “I— I’m really sorry. I just wanted to talk to someone.”

Finnley felt his heart hurt for her as if it was a physical pain. Mia didn’t seem the type to fall prey to terrors in the night, but he didn’t blame her for it. How many times after Allie’s death had he dreamed about the moment it had happened, despite not being there himself? How many times had he awakened in the night, searching for someone, anyone to talk to, unwilling to wake his mother? He felt what she was going through on a deeply personal level.

“No, no, you’re fine,” Finnley told her, as soothingly as he could. “It was just a dream. You, me, talking on the phone, that’s what’s real.” In the following silence, Finnley imagined her curled up in bed — a neighbor’s bed, not even her own — nodding her head in the darkness. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I haven’t had that dream since I was a little kid,” she admitted. “I... I just didn’t expect it to come back. It used to scare me senseless, and, well, I thought I was done with all that.”

“I know,” Finnley said, anxious to keep her talking. “I used to get them too.”

“Really? But not anymore?”

“Getting to know you has helped a lot with them,” Finnley admitted. “But you sort of have to find your fear and face it. Sort of defeat it, you know? I was terrified about Allie’s death. Then there was that monster... well, defeating the monster helped me defeat the monster inside, I think. I knew then that she was really gone, that there was no coming back, and that the only thing that mattered was what I did going forward. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Mia replied. Her voice was gaining strength, coming back to its normal self, and Finnley felt relieved. “I’ve just got to keep fighting it, right? Get to the root of it?”

“Yeah,” Finnley said, leaning back against the wall and stroking Rory once more. “Something like that. I think you’re really strong, Mia, and really brave too.”

“Really?” she asked. There was something in her voice that sounded like hope.

“Of course,” Finnley replied, startled. She didn’t know that for herself? “You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Thanks—” there was a muffled scream and the phone clicked off. Finnley sat bolt upright, frantic now, worrying. He hit the button to call back repeatedly, the concern in his face highlighted by the glowing light from the phone in the dark room. The phone rang once before Mia picked up again.

“Mia!” he cried into the phone, clutching it to his ear with both hands. “What happened?”

Whatever Finnley had expected to hear, it was not giggling. A moment later, there was an inhale, then Mia spoke again. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Monica just popped out of nowhere!” Finnley collected himself again and slowly closed his eyes. Were they trying to frighten him to death? Still, he was grateful that it was only Monica — not to mention grateful that Monica was back.

“Is she doing alright?” he asked, pretending like your ghost friend popping up in your real friend’s bedroom in the middle of the night was a normal thing.

“Yeah, she’s good. I just fell off the bed, that’s all,” Monica said. Finnley could have sworn he heard her smile, if smiles could be heard. “I think she’ll stay the night with me; you know, make sure I don’t freak out over a nightmare again.”

“Good,” Finnley said. They said their good nights and hung up. A part of him wondered how Monica could be there for Mia so much more than he was, even though she was a ghost. He had just mumbled along some words about “keep fighting” and Monica had popped into Mia’s room when she needed her the most. He felt helpless, unable to advise his friend, even when he had suffered from nightmares for longer than she had.

After a moment of thought, Finnley sat up and dug around in his room. He hadn’t remembered where he’d set them down the other day... Ah, there they were. His magical text books. They were, unfortunately, just as heavy as normal textbooks, and he heaved them up onto his bed, startling Rory.

One was the book he used to learn the magic language; the other was a spell book. There were various recorded spells in it. Theoretically, a gifted magician could invent his own spells if he knew his craft well enough, but Finnley barely felt competent in the known spells. He would search for one that fit his needs. He turned on the light above his bed and bent over the yellowing pages of the book.

It was a book for beginners, and Finnley hoped dearly that what he was looking for might lie within its pages. If it was too advanced, he’d have to turn to Mr. Vaughn, and he wanted to do this on his own. There were spells for all sorts of little things, an introduction to using magic. Finnley found the dust-preventing spell particularly entertaining, and decided that he would place it on some objects around the house so his mom wouldn’t have to dust them. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

And... there. That was just the spell. He read the text under it, saying that the spell was a simple one to promote good, deep sleep. Finnley took it to mean that it would ward off the nightmares as well. The main design strongly resembled a dream catcher, and Finnley wondered if those had originated from magicians. He practiced drawing it out a few times, making sure he could get it right. He wrote the accompanying words to direct its purpose, and then closed the book. If he could get into Mia’s bedroom, he would create the spell on the underside of her pillow. Maybe it would help.

Feeling better now that there was something he could do, or at least try to do, he went to sleep feeling a little better. Rory nosed over the books Finnley had left on his bed, then curled up on top of them. His own nightmares temporarily banished, he slept easy that night.