The many winding paths of Grasscove, U.S.A. : Part Six

*This story is under my folder titled “Grasscove, U.S.A.”. Gacha Club character designs are under this forum: https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=27&t=116005&start=1455. Enjoy!*

After much walking, I make it to the hotel lobby, where the others are. The doll clutched tightly in my hand, I hand her to Lilliana.

“What’s this?” Lilliana asks, examining the doll.

“I found her and thought you’d want her. There’s a disk in her stomach. It played a song on the record player in the room I found her in. I don’t know what the song is, but…I thought you’d like it.”

Lilliana lifts up the doll’s dress and finds the disk in there, just like I said. She lets go of the dress and looks at me as though she is searching me, as though she knows what this means.

“Thanks.” She says softly.

“There’s nothing here. We should go look around town.” Emery says.

Yes, that’s right. There was nothing in this hotel except the ghost of Ophelia and that weird doll. I can see early morning dark orange sunlight glowing throughout the windows of the hotel. My eyes feel tinged with sleep, but I’m not tired. Not at all.

I’m willing to continue on this journey.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

But when we walk out the door, Grasscove isn’t there. Only a wide expanse of land with miscellaneous marble statues of angels, cherubs, and crosses, like a graveyard without the graves.

I know that a lot of people have died here, but I didn’t think we’d end up here…wherever here is. I don’t know where I am.

I turn to look at Lilliana and Emery. Their eyes are filled with fear, like they have never seen this place before. I don’t think that they have, the more I look at them.

I look down at Ophelia, but she’s hiding her face against Emery’s leg. I don’t think she wants to be here at all.

“Let’s…let’s go.” Lilliana says hoarsely.

Emery nods. Lilliana takes hold of my hand and we are walking amongst this odd place.

I don’t get it. She doesn’t want to let go of me now but she left me alone in that hotel. She wanted to tell me everything but still hasn’t told me all. Does she hate me? Does-no. No. These things take time. I don’t understand, so I shouldn’t ask. She’ll tell me if she wants to. There’s nothing to worry about.

“How are you?” I suddenly find myself asking.

It’s such an ordinary question, but it can’t have just one clear answer. Not after everything that has happened.

Lilliana laughs bitterly.

“Not okay. I feel like a ghost, fading in and out of places. I feel like I don’t belong. I’ve felt that way ever since I was turned. This place is like how the train theme park was for me, quiet and secluded. It would almost be peaceful if it weren’t for the crosses.”

Yes, there are a lot of white crosses here, glimmering against the sunlight. The crosses to me look like simple symbols. I feel nothing about them, except for Lilliana’s hand, which squeezes mine tighter than I remember.

“Is it because you’re a vampire?”

“I-I guess?! I don’t know, I feel like the crosses are going to stab me or something. I don’t know, that’s just…that’s just how I feel.”

“Well, you’re not alone. If anything does happen, you’ll have others to help you.”

I’m not sure I can do much since I’m a human, but I want to say something comforting.

She smiles. I wish she’d smile with her fangs.

Emery and Ophelia are ahead of us, their ghosts softly flickering with the light of the sun. There isn’t really any wind here. It’s steady and quiet.

Except for a slight ticking. Like the clock in the Grasscove clock tower. But it’s so faint that if there was no other sound here, I don’t think anyone would have heard it all.

Lilliana probably already heard it. She has better hearing than me. I wonder if she’s afraid of it. I rub circles onto her hand as we walk. I’m a little scared too. But if we keep walking, we’ll be back in town. We’ll be out of this place.

I just wish that I knew where the ticking was coming from. It’s all around us and nowhere at the same time. It’s up and it’s down. It’s-

The angel. There is a white angel statue, not completely white, for pink is mixed in it, that stands high above the others. She holds a cross in one hand and is sculpted to look as though the wind is blowing her hair. There’s a crack along her face.

The crack parts, more and more and more, until there is a gaping black hole and from out of that hole, a skeletal fingers slide out, slowly, covered in dirt and grim.

We walk faster, but I’m not sure if we’ll be fast enough.