path: root/posts/2026-04-30-stardust-melody.php

<h1 id="stardust-melody">Stardust Melody</h1>

<p class="description">
My third installment in Nat1's <a href="https://nat1publishing.com/wwoo/">Write, Wrong, or Otherwise</a> anthology! Stardust Melody follows two ghosts through the streets of Brooklyn as they try to piece together who they are and why they wander. Edited after posting on 2026-05-13.
</p>

<p>The gray monoliths of the buildings rose up like towering rock
formations. With the recent downpour, they sprang from pools of tepid
water laced with asphalt, soot, and trapped garbage. The rain stopped
hours ago, but with no sunlight to dry the boulevards, the row of
streetlamps cast eerie beams that reflected off the slick avenue. Here,
the soft luminescence of the storefront window mixed with the reflection
filled the atmosphere with a warm yellow glow.</p>
<p>Despite the light’s warmth, Frances felt cold. She was always cold
these days. Cold for as long as she could remember, honestly. Unless she
thought for too long about how cold she felt, at which point she
invariably didn’t feel like anything. Ignoring whether she was cold or
not, she was sure of one thing: she was thirsty. Her lips craved the
slick rim of a cool glass, her nose an acrid and fruity fragrance, and
her head a warm, numbing, fuzzy sensation.</p>
<p>She licked her lips and tried to concentrate on the window. It
showcased a group of mannequins, all posing in partywear. They stiffly
depicted what surely would be a great night on the town. Despite never
embarking with their chaperones to go anywhere, Frances was sure she
would fit right in with them. Her silvery dress swished as she shifted
her weight from one leg to another. Her pale, palid hand absent-mindedly
twirled the pearls of her necklace. It trembled slightly. <em>Ignore it.
Just keep ignoring it; that was the key.</em></p>
<p>Ignoring it was always easier said than done. The partywear in the
window transported her in time and place to the warm and bright tones of
a piano, the <em>chicker-chicker</em> of a mixer, and the sharp clinking
of glasses.</p>
<p>Luke intruded on her thoughts and attention, as he was wont to do,
plodding up and down the sidewalk a short distance away. As he drew
nearer, his steps became loud stomps. <em>Little terror’s probably
seeking attention again</em>. His arms were crossed over his black
suspenders. Under his gray paperboy cap, his rounded face was turned up
into a discernible frown, clearly communicating a growing, childish
impatience with the current night’s events.</p>
<p>“Are we done yet?” he called back over his shoulder as he turned,
continuing his march. It was always the same question.</p>
<p>Frances rolled her eyes. After less than an hour of peace, the
fantasy was broken, and he tore her back to reality. Their reality.
<em>Oh, goodie, here we go again.</em></p>
<p>“It’s still my turn,” she replied with a sigh. “Besides, you still
haven’t paid me back for the extra time you got yesterday.”</p>
<p>“Hmpf! Your turns are always so <em>boring!“</em></p>
<p>Surely his mother spoiled him. “Hush now, be still.”</p>
<p>Luke uncrossed his arms and then immediately balled his fists and
recrossed them. He resumed his sentinel’s watch patrolling the streaked,
gum-spotted sidewalk. The little terror was much more challenging to
ignore for very long. Frances retrained her eyes on the suits.</p>
<p>The brat stopped his march long enough to add, “What do you want to
look at breeches for anyway, you’re a girl!” It was more of a
statement—a jab—than a question.</p>
<p>“Oh, what would you know about ladies’ fashion, you’re what,
eight?”</p>
<p>He stuck out his tongue, recrossed his arms once more, and shuffled
off into the middle of the avenue. She followed the troublemaker with
the corner of her eye as he began to walk a figure eight through the
pavement, the intersection of his march taking him repeatedly through a
puddle. Each step on the glossy surface was certainly an attempt to
disturb the standing water. Make a mess. Little boy stuff. Despite his
efforts, the puddle remained still and undisturbed.</p>
<p>The stomping continued to test Frances’ patience. It drew her kicking
and screaming back from her fantasy. She wheeled around on her heel, her
hands on her hips.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t play in the street, you know,” she admonished, nearly
raising her finger at him just like her mother used to do to her.
<em>What would Mother have thought if she could see me babysitting
now?</em></p>
<p>“You know it won’t make a hill ‘o’ beans difference. Can’t rightly
die twice, can I?”</p>
<p><em>I only wish.</em> For a brief moment, she paused and wondered
whether the kid was right. Could they die again? She didn’t want to
think about it. Thinking about it made her thirsty. What she wanted was
a stiff drink, soft music, and a warm arm around her shoulder telling
her it’d all be okay. Things she was certain she’d never have again.</p>
<p>The little imp resumed his plodding attempts at splashing. He pushed
his grimy shoes hard against the icelike reflection of the
streetlights.</p>
<p>“You know that’ll do nothing,” Frances counseled.</p>
<p>“It will too! Yesterday—or was it the day before—well anyway,
yesterday I got it to make a ripple. If I try really hard, maybe I can
learn to do it again.”</p>
<p>Frances <em>tsked</em> and twirled away from him again. She tried not
to think about their situation, but it was too hopeless to ignore. She
didn’t know much about ghosts. She wasn’t much of a reader, or a
religious type for that matter. She did read about the afterlife in a
tabloid once, come to think of it. It had gotten passed around all her
girlfriends, and the gossip alone made it worthwhile.</p>
<p>She remembered more of it now. There was an article in there on
witchcraft, voodoo, that sort of thing. Talk about curses and how they
always came in threes. Supposing there was any truth to that slop, she
figured she was looking at three curses right now.</p>
<p>Firstly, the two of them were dead. She was sure of that, but she
wasn’t sure what kind of dead. Best she could figure, she was a ghost,
and a right smart-looking one at that, <em>thankyouverymuch</em>.</p>
<p>Second, they hadn’t a clue how either of them died. Try as she might,
the only thing she could be sure of was that it had been dark and foggy.
She’d been driving up the avenues. Big deal, it was not unheard of for
Brooklyn to be foggy or dark, or for people to die in car crashes.</p>
<p>Finally, she was tethered to the little terror. They tried
everything. Nothing worked; they could never get more than about fifty
paces apart before an invisible rope went taut and kept them together.
She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. That was the
greatest mystery of all. She was so sure, positive, she had never met
Luke before. She couldn’t remember anything about him. Why’d she have to
get stuck with him?</p>
<p>To top it all off, not a living soul could hear or see them. To the
best of her knowledge, Frances was trapped with the plodding soldier for
eternity. She glanced back at the partywear, trying to imagine
somewhere—anywhere—other than where she was. Instead, she sighed.
Surely, no amount of concentration would bring back the daydream.</p>
<p>She unclasped her hands and dusted off her dress habitually, like she
always did when she felt stir-crazy, and it was time to move. Turning to
Luke, she acquiesced, “Alright, it’s your turn.”</p>
<p>“Oh, whoopee!” Luke forgot all about his attempts at splashing and
jumped up, beaming with his round face. “Oh, this is gonna be swell,
just you wait. I wanna go to Luna Park!”</p>
<p>“Luna what?”</p>
<p>“The park, you know, the one with the airship and the moon and the
electric lights,” he paused to search her face with recognition. “You
know, Coney Island.”</p>
<p>Frances’ gut dropped, and she let out a groan. “Luke, that’s too far
away, it’ll be hours.”</p>
<p>“I’ll just borrow a little time, <em>please</em>,” he pleaded,
managing to turn please from a one-syllable word into five.</p>
<p>“You already owe me time. No chance. Pick something else,” she turned
her nose up to make the decision final.</p>
<p>“No fair, you never do what I wanna do,” he protested, stamping his
feet.</p>
<p>“If you wanna go so bad, then go by yourself,” she retorted, her nose
lifting even higher.</p>
<p>He looked deflated and more plaintive, his eyes softening in his
round face. “You know I can’t go by myself, don’t be so mean.”</p>
<p>A pang of guilt right to the heart. She pushed past it, satisfied
that she had finally placed him squarely in a state where he was willing
to behave. Her throat felt dry again. She swept in for the kill.</p>
<p>“Your mother must have spoiled you rotten. I don’t see why I should
go, there’s nothing in it for me,” she said with a questioning
inflection, opening one eye to look down at him.</p>
<p>“But it could be fun for both of us. Or we could trade.”</p>
<p><em>There you go, right where I want you.</em></p>
<p>“Trade? Fine. We’ll go to Coney Island. But I want something special
in return.”</p>
<p>The twerp was energized and vigorously nodded as he said, “Yeah,
sure, anything!”</p>
<p>“I want to go to a club. But not just any club. The Jade Bird has a
late-night shindig I used to go to. They have music, dancing, gin, and
other <em>adults</em>,” she emphasized <em>dults</em>. “We go right
after Coney Island, and the whole time we’re there, I don’t want to see
you. Not a peep. If you wanna go, then say yes.”</p>
<p>Luke scrunched his face up in thought, but it must not have been a
hard decision because he hurriedly replied, “Deal!” and skipped off down
the avenue. As the distance grew, Francis felt the familiar tugging
sensation in her gut. Compelled to move faster to keep up with him, she
chastised him for running and implored him to slow down.</p>
<hr/>
<p>This rubber-banding continued for what felt like an hour. Maybe it
was two? Either way, Frances was sure that if she could feel her feet,
they’d be on fire, working her way all across Brooklyn to hit the end of
Surf Avenue. People, living people, began to fill the streets. The
closer they walked, the more they saw. Men in hats and white shirts,
long since rid of their work ties, escorted ladies in short, summery
dresses and heels. Invariably, many of the couples toted along, leaning,
tugging children, some wearing shorts and collared shirts. In contrast,
others wore narrow suspenders much like Luke’s. <em>Just what I
need</em>.</p>
<p>Finally, they walked under the large, red entrance sign welcoming
them to Luna Park. Ticket collectors and park attendants paid them no
attention, at times peering straight through them to greet other park
patrons.</p>
<p>Frances felt ill at ease walking in without paying. She found she
could push the thought away without much effort. She had no money, and
even if she did, there’d be nobody who could take it. Either way, she
was pretty sure there should be a discount for ghosts, and therefore it
was justified.</p>
<p>Luke seemed not to experience this moral quagmire, skipping his way
into the park. Within, the inky black night sky was disrupted by a
starfield of electric lights. At least a million incandescent yellow
orbs were strung this way and that across a great, heart-shaped lagoon
surrounded on both sides by sculpted white parapets. These were broken
only by flowery minarets, also in white, lavishly decorated with
scrollwork and little red heart emblems. Every edge and corner of these
was equally adorned in that warm, smokeless, man-made fire.</p>
<p>In the dead center of the lagoon, a great rectangular tower of
illuminated rose-like medallions jutted up like a beacon, a lighthouse
summoning park-goers to its gold palace below.</p>
<p>“Chutes first, chutes first!” the brat squealed, sprinting off toward
the Shoot-the-Chutes line. He took the steps two at a time, paying no
mind to his manners or the other children. Frances swore she could see
him pass right through another child once or twice. She trotted to keep
up, but it was no use in her dress and heels, and she was barely at the
foot of the line when he reached the top.</p>
<p>“Hey, you behave up there!” she called up, cupping her hands around
her mouth. The other patrons calmly continued to step aboard the
tabogan-shaped boats.</p>
<p>“Oh, gee, this is a biggie,” the terror said, rubbing his hands
together as he peered down into the ramp and lagoon below.</p>
<p>A young girl, probably about ten or just a little older than Luke,
was being helped into one of the boats. As the operator helped lower her
over the gunwale, her pink dress fluttered. From her vantage point at
the base of the ride, Frances could see she was adorned head to toe in
pink: pink shoes, pink bonnet, pink stockings. Another gentleman
squatted down in the boat behind her, smiling as they both settled in
and gripped the sides of the gunwale.</p>
<p>Luke wasted no time, jumping aboard just ahead of the girl and
leaning over the bow with his hands on the forward handrail. Frances
could see him turn his head to say something to the girl, but she was
too far to hear anything. She shook her head.</p>
<p>The operator stepped back inside and pulled a lever. The boat let
loose and rapidly glided down the steep chute. As it built up speed,
water sprayed off the prow and up both sides of the hull. Luke let out a
loud “weeeee!” while the girl in pink squealed with equal parts laughter
and fright. Frances giggled in spite of herself at the sight of the two
kids losing their minds to the delight of the chute.</p>
<p>The boat shot out into the lagoon on plane, scooting across the
surface with a splash, sending up more spray as it glided to the waters’
edge. The operator only gently ruddered it alongside as it bumped into
the dock, and the little girl and her escort clapped and cheered. Luke
joined in as they all disembarked with the help of another
attendant.</p>
<p>Luke turned to the girl in pink and spoke to her directly, “That was
great, oh what a ride. Oh, we need to ride that again. Let’s get back in
line.” She was fussing over her bonnet, adjusting the ribbons. “My
name’s Luke, by the way. Are you from Brooklyn, too?”</p>
<p>The girl, satisfied with her attire, gripped the gentleman’s hand and
pointed, squealing, “Daddy, look, look!”</p>
<p>Frances’ heart leaped as she followed the little girl’s finger and
witnessed a caravan of elephants slowly loping down the main promenade
around the lagoon. Other park goers stared in awe at the parade, mouths
agape at the procession of gray beasts, each adorned in red garnets and
heart-shaped fez. The elephants would randomly toot their trunks and
flap their ears at passersby.</p>
<p>“Oh, neato, so you like elephants, huh?” Luke continued his one-sided
conversation. He gripped his cap and alternated glances at the large,
gray animals and the girl in pink. Her eyes remained transfixed on the
elephants.</p>
<p>Finally, she interjected, “Daddy, can we ride them, can we?” she
squealed again, giving her father a tug on his sleeve. The pair then
began to excitedly head toward the elephants.</p>
<p>Luke called out after them as they went, “Hey, I could go with you!
We could be friends!” After another moment, they were gone in the sea of
spectators in their slacks and dresses. His arm hung out in midair,
grasping almost for a hand to take him away too.</p>
<p>Frances leaned with her weight on one leg, rubbing her hands up and
down her arms, gently trying to warm herself. She pursed her dry lips,
unsure what to say or do. <em>He knows, right? He couldn’t forget, could
he?</em></p>
<p>“Hey, um,” she started, immediately unsure how to finish. The rest of
the sentence didn’t come. She was terrible with kids. Swallowing, her
mouth suddenly very dry and patchy, she started over, “She can’t
see—”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know she can’t hear me. Or see me. I just—I dunno, I guess I
just felt like having another kid to play with would be nice, is all.
Then you wouldn’t have to.”</p>
<p>A lump grew in Frances’ throat. Just peachy. <em>Now the kid’s got a
moral high ground,</em> she thought. She absent-mindedly twirled her
pearl necklace. She felt shrewd and frumpy. Here was this kid, this
child who never got to grow up. Would never get to grow up. Never play
with other children on the playground again, never go to school, play
sports, or dance at prom.</p>
<p><em>Yeah, Frances, real nice piece ‘o’ work, how do you feel
now?</em> <em>You’re a washup, a rich wannabe party animal who’s gonna
be forgotten and go on being annoyed forever. Boo-hoo, here’s a kid who
lost his shot at beginning to live.</em></p>
<p>She swallowed and then clasped and unclasped her hands. She didn’t
want to drag this out. The time passed more quickly when he was having
fun. She still wanted to make the Jade Bird, after all.</p>
<p>“Hey Luke, er, if it makes you feel any better, I could be your
friend. For tonight, I mean. Er, I didn’t mean that, I just meant we
could hang out for a while.”</p>
<p>Well, that sounded really nice. <em>Great job again, Frances.</em>
What did she even sound like?</p>
<p>Luke turned around, his hands behind his back. His pale, round face
looked up at hers, puzzled. “You mean it? You wanna be my friend?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, um, sure I do,” she replied, recentering herself on both heels
before adding, “Hey, look, there’s this um, ride over there,” she
pointed off to the left promenade back toward the entrance. Avoiding eye
contact, she continued, “I bet you’d like it. Called the Dragon’s Gorge
or something. Wanna try it?”</p>
<p>“Dragon’s Gorge? Sounds cool!” the kid perked up, gripping his
suspenders and readying to run before she caught him.</p>
<p>“Actually, yes, but we have to walk there. Like friends. No running
off.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, sure.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>They began their stroll around the lagoon. Frances crossed her arms
and sauntered along, the silvery sequins of her party dress clicking
around. Luke fell into line and tried his best to match her pace,
straying a little, then bouncing back whenever he saw a clown, a store,
or something else that caught his curiosity.</p>
<p>Frances let her eyes linger on the tall, many-faceted glazed windows
of the Grand Ballroom as they passed by. Within, a small band played
jazz standards while a lady in an emerald green halter top sang to a
delighted crowd of swishing, bobbing dancers. Tuxedoed arms caressed a
menagerie of colorful dresses dotted with beads and furs, despite the
heat. Occasionally, a pair of lips would steal a quick kiss when its
owner suspected nobody else might be looking.</p>
<p>Frances hated it. The whole scene looked all too familiar. Pair after
pair of happy couples dancing the night away with armfuls of each other.
Here she was, alone and miserable like so many other dreary New York
evenings. All she needed was a glass, and the picture would be
complete.</p>
<p>The emerald singer’s words floated out the double doors, tickling
Frances’ ears and enticing her to think about something else. She
allowed herself just a small respite to catch the lyrics.</p>
<p><em>Lonely days are long, twilight sings this song</em><br />
<em>Of the happiness that used to be</em><br />
<em>Soon my eyes will close, soon I’ll find repose</em><br />
<em>And in dreams you’re always near to me</em></p>
<p>Her mind greeted them, drew them in, and let them push out her
ruminations. She turned them over and over again. The tune lilted and
bounced around in her head until she found herself humming it while they
strolled along the park promenade.</p>
<p>The kid drowned it out with, “You must like parties, huh?”</p>
<p>The question almost startled her out of the fantasy. “I like ’em,
yeah. I like singing mostly, I wanted to be a singer before…” She left
the sentence unfinished. It felt like the wrong thing to share at the
wrong time.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be a friends’ secret.”</p>
<p>She smiled, eyes shut, not meaning anything in particular by it and
hoping he wouldn’t probe further.</p>
<p>Luke continued, “Is that why you wanna go to the club? So you can
sing at a party again?”</p>
<p>The party slipped back into Frances’ mind. The room was dimly lit and
cloudy, the smoke from two dozen cigarettes all conjoining into a great,
fuzzy approximation of the reality behind them. The clinking of ice in
one ear and the popping of a champagne cork in the other. Those were the
most prominent sounds, a cacophony that drilled through the soft rags of
the tinkling piano. She tasted salt, little drips flowing down from her
eyes, over her nose, and onto her lips. In her fantasy, she was crying.
<em>Seriously</em>? She wondered whether she could even cry now.</p>
<p>She shook her head. Luke watched her expectantly, but quietly left
her alone with her thoughts this time. Her hands trembled, and her head
felt dull, so she tried to change the subject, to think of something
else—anything else.</p>
<p>“How about you, kid? Anything you wanted to do? You know, before,
<em>it</em> happened. What did you wanna do when you grew up?” <em>Nice
Frances, that’ll help</em>.</p>
<p>“Me?” Luke looked puzzled by the question, then wrapped both his
hands around his chin and shouted, “Grow a beard!”</p>
<p>She giggled, her nose catching the air in a snort. Luke returned the
laughter, and she found that the more he laughed, the more she laughed
back at him. The laughter caught her off guard, and the more it
continued, the harder it was to stop. Finally, it subsided, and she
coughed to shake the last out of her throat.</p>
<p>“That’s it? You want a beard?”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah, I mean I dunno if I can now, but I always wanted to grow a
real big white beard. So when I’m an old man, I can say ‘hey you
whipper-snappers, you get along ’fore I give you a caning!’” he
mimicked, wielding a stick in one hand while the other maintained his
fingered beard.</p>
<p>Hands on her hips, Frances returned, “Wow, Mr. Luke, you sure are a
crochety old man.” Luke continued to smile but returned his hands to his
pockets as he walked.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Dragon’s Gorge now dominated the park before them. It presented
itself as a gargantuan archway, appropriately guarded by two monstrous
dragons on either side, each with a pair of glowing green eyes. The
archway itself spanned a large recess that showcased a diorama of
scenery and railways. Occasionally, with a clatter and a scream of
surprise, a train full of passengers would careen around a corner and
then dip out of sight behind the next outcropping of faux rock.</p>
<p>Luke’s pace quickened as he skipped ahead to the entrance. There
wasn’t much of a line, and Frances was able to persuade Luke to wait
with her for an empty car. He could do with some fresh manners anyway,
and she didn’t much feel like sitting in the same seat as someone else.
Literally.</p>
<p>What couldn’t have been five minutes passed in silence before a
brakeman guided an empty train car onto the staging lane. It was adorned
with heart-shaped scrollwork and even more dragon heads, these ones
sticking their tongues out. Luke hopped into the back, and Frances
carefully stepped down into the wooden cart beside him.</p>
<p>A young couple dressed in casual wear took their seats up front. Once
they were settled, the brakeman let loose the cart, and they began their
rickety descent.</p>
<p>Frances’ stomach lurched as they rounded the first corner. She gasped
as the train tilted back up a ramp and caught on a ratcheting lift. The
<em>clank-clank</em> of the tracks drowned out any other noises the
attraction may have been making as the train climbed higher and
higher.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of her eye, Frances caught the kid looking around,
trying to get a glimpse of what came next. His big, round eyes put his
circular face into a state of apparent worry. She immediately regretted
suggesting this. The Dragon’s Gorge? At his age, he should probably be
on the teacup ride or something.</p>
<p>She gripped the handlebars as they crested over the ramp, the train
briefly floating before thunderously clanking its way down to the other
side, straight into a narrow tunnel.</p>
<p>In the blink of an eye, Frances found herself in a brightly lit
scene, the train clacking away and swerving left and right, eliciting
gasps from the couple ahead. All around was a carefully constructed
miniature Grand Canyon. At least, that’s what it looked like. Dusty red
papier-mache rocks formed a ridge high above the tracks on both sides.
Down below the tracks, a trickling blue river of dyed water babbled in
an artificial creekbed.</p>
<p>Up on one ridge was a makeshift teepee flagged by clotheslines of
hanging pelts and a few large clay jars. On the other ridge sat six
taxidermied buzzards, all packed together, staring down at the
passengers with eyeless, beaky faces. As they trundled along, Frances
envisioned them hunched over, tearing into a bony, decrepit steer like
in some picture show. She tried not to think of what may have become of
her body, the one she occupied for what seemed like a much shorter stint
of life, the more she pondered it. She felt parched in the artificial
arid landscape.</p>
<p>Once or twice, the brakeman yanked the lever, slowing the cart up
with a jerking sensation as they plunged into another tunnel. Luke slid
across the seat and was now sidled up to her, practically sitting on the
beads of her dress, as his hands tightly clasped the handlebars.</p>
<p>The tunnel slipped away, revealing cool blue hues and the shimmering
reflection of water on the ceiling. It was relieving to fly away from
the desert so quickly, and Luke let out an audible “Aaah.” At the same
time, the forward passengers sighed with a mix of relief and
amusement.</p>
<p>All around the train was a menagerie of marine life. Schools of fish
flitted this way and that on thin, complicated networks of wire. The
dark blue rocks were speckled with purple corals, orange starfish, and
wavy, shimmering green sea grass.</p>
<p>Twice, Frances was sure the train was headed right for a rockface
(and once a large tuna) before the wheels thundered them out of the way
on a different course. The car rounded another corner, and the scene
opened up even more, boasting a great expanse filled with larger
creatures. White ice sheets dotted the ceiling, and chubby seals dove
from them down through the air, disappearing around another rock with a
mechanical click.</p>
<p>She could have believed for a moment she was truly beneath the ocean
before the main attraction dominated the room: into the panoramic view
of the oceanic backdrop was thrust a great undersea ship. It was
coppery, cigar-shaped, and decked out in portholes full of electric
lights. The Vernian craft elicited a “Captain Nemo!” from the kid, who
turned to Frances and pointed at the vessel. Gasps of “ooh”s and “aah”s
from the other two passengers showed that, at least on some level, they
were impressed by this attraction.</p>
<p>She, Frances, didn’t want the scene to end. It actually felt sort of
peaceful. She could forget for a minute that she was anywhere other than
settled quietly on the bottom of the sea, watching the fish go by. She
wondered whether, when it was her turn, she wouldn’t rather go walk the
beach and see just how many fish Luke and she could spot if they
wandered down into the Atlantic.</p>
<p>The next tunnel draped them in darkness all too quickly, though, and
her stomach lurched before she was sure the cart was being lifted by
another ramp; the tell-tale clattering of the track told her it had to
be.</p>
<p>The ramp was much shorter this time, as Frances counted the seconds,
stopping short of the last ramp before the train stopped clanking and
nosed down again. The tunnel forked hard to the left as the whole park
came back into view. From within the archway’s diorama, the park looked
breathtaking. The yellow spots of warm light beaded every surface and
were a blur from their speed. Parkgoers below stood up, some waving at
the train as it rolled along.</p>
<p>Luke gave a wave back, holding onto his cap and laughing gleefully as
he shouted something nonsensical down between the dragon statues. It
seemed like a nice finale. If given the option, Frances fancied getting
off and walking around some more. The brakeman pulled his lever once or
twice but made no effort to stop the ride. The train crested one more
ridge and then dove out of sight of the park into darkness again.</p>
<p>With more darkness came more speed. The sickening twists and turns
were now more jolting and jarring. Frances couldn’t help but feel a
strange, familiar sensation. Plunged into darkness, lurching this way
and that as a set of mechanical wheels beneath her skidded and slid
along, always on the edge of control. She instinctively pressed her foot
down with her toes, feeling around for a brake pedal that wasn’t
there.</p>
<p>Frances yelped as a sudden ramp tipped the cart back. Her gut lagged
behind, stretching out forward with the train’s momentum as their speed
was stolen away by the incline. Now the cart creaked along, crawling
toward a bright orange-red glow at the end of the tunnel.</p>
<p>Tantalizingly slow, the train emerged into a scarlet cavern
illuminated by wrought-iron torches of open flame. The tracks rested on
a trestle over another river, much like the Grand Canyon, but this one
burbled with thick, red lava. Or was it blood? Stalactites clung to the
ceiling above the rectangular cavern, and Frances wished she had kept
her eyes fixed on them.</p>
<p>All around, the cave walls were pimpled with grotesque faces.
Wretched mouths oozed pain from the slick rock below black eyes. Tears
of thick red fluid seeped out of them. Frances felt herself clenching
the handlebars and holding her eyes shut tight like some scared little
girl. She forced them open again and looked down into the river. It was
occupied by a lone boatman in dark, tattered robes. He was posed in this
scene, a gold coin in one bony palm, the other hand clutching a push
pole.</p>
<p>Horrible, grasping, and plaintive hands rose up out of the river and
clung to the boat while the boatman looked on, featureless beneath his
charcoal hood.</p>
<p>On the other side of the seat, Luke began to shudder. His whole body
trembled, and when Frances leaned over to check on him, she saw that his
face was wet. Streaks of slobbery boogers mixed with teardrops on his
cheeks, and he made no attempt to lift his arm or wipe them away.
<em>Oh, real great job, Frances.</em></p>
<p>She balled up as much of her hem as she could and attempted to wipe
Luke’s face with it. To her surprise, it seemed to actually work. She
quickly wrapped her arm around Luke. He was unexpectedly cold to the
touch, but he leaned into her while the train crept beneath the torchlit
archway at the end of the cavern.</p>
<p>To her relief, the train slowly clacked around one last soft turn and
screeched to a halt at the end of the staging platform. Ahead, the young
lady was still covering her eyes while her date laughed on.
<em>Ass</em>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Poor Luke was quiet, emitting only the occasional sniffle. She helped
him up and out of the car. Another go wasn't what he needed right
now.</p>
<p>Frances walked him off away from the Dragon’s Gorge and down a grassy
bank. It met a narrow river which meandered through the park. A myriad
of little gondolas propelled by much friendlier-looking boatmen and
their push poles chauffeured guests around lilypads and beneath white,
heart-adorned bridges.</p>
<p>With no idea how to comfort Luke, she just said, “You know, I bet
they take a whole day to change the light bulbs on that submarine. And
the plumber probably has to wear galoshes just to work in the River
Styx, what do you think about that?” Frances realized once again just
how much she sucked with kids.</p>
<p>She laughed in a meager attempt to liven things up, but it was no
use. The little boy remained silent and just took a seat at a small cafe
table and chairs a few feet up the bank. Frances felt cold creeping in
again. She wrapped her arms around herself and just stared into the
rippling water, watching the agitation bounce off the beds of reeds and
lily pads.</p>
<p>“Frances,” he asked timidly. “Are we in hell?”</p>
<p>She couldn’t remember the last time she heard her name spoken. His
voice sounded so small. It sounded hurt, scared, and forgotten, like it
might be buried and left behind for good. She clutched her dress tight
again.</p>
<p>Frances chose her words carefully, but they still struggled to come
out. “Oh, Luke, where did you get an idea like that?” She strode over,
not quite sure how close to get.</p>
<p>“Well, my momma taught me all about heaven. But this doesn’t seem
like it. I never figured on being cold, scared, or bored in heaven. So
far as I can tell, then this is, you know, the other place. But that
ride—that ride is what I thought it was supposed to be like.”</p>
<p>She smiled grimly and pulled out the other cafe chair to sit beside
him. He certainly was an intelligent little boy after all, wasn’t
he?</p>
<p>“Luke, I don’t know much more than you do, but I know enough to be
sure you aren’t in hell. And you shouldn’t say things like that. First
of all, as far as I can see, we’re still in Brooklyn, and there’s a lot
of folks around here who don’t strike me as the hellish type,” she
paused to let it sink in. Behind Luke’s troubled, gray eyes, she
suspected the wheels were turning, but he wasn’t quite believing her.
Placing her finger under his chin, she continued, “Second, you’re too
good a boy to go to hell.”</p>
<p>She brushed the dark bangs from her eyes and smiled again, as genuine
a smile as she could muster. His round face still pursed with questions,
his eyes darting across the lines of her face, looking for what she
assumed was comfort, answers, or both.</p>
<p>He started again, “But why then? Why are we here? When can we
leave?”</p>
<p>“I wish I did know that.” This poor kid. He wasn’t frightened of some
ride so much as he was afraid of the afterlife. The beyond. <em>Sheesh,
maybe I really am a miserable person. Maybe I do deserve to be stuck
here. But he hasn’t done a thing wrong to deserve this. To deserve
landing with me.</em></p>
<p>She patted him on the head awkwardly, as if he were her old spaniel,
and tried her best to comfort him. Then and there, Frances had a new
goal, a reason to go on, do better, lift herself out of her funk. She
was going to do her damndest to make Luke’s eternity just a little bit
nicer, whatever that took. It didn’t matter how bad she wanted out of
it, how bad she wanted to dance or run or dive into a bottle, she’d
figure it out somehow.</p>
<p>“Hey, how about you pick what we do next?” she said, patting his
shoulder.</p>
<p>“Oh, I dunno, I think it’s your turn. Should we go to your party? You
wouldn’t wanna be late.”</p>
<p>She tutted and waved the thought away with a hand, “Eh, that juice
joint had no atmosphere anyway. Not like this place,” she gestured
around to the still-glowing white minarets of the park.</p>
<p>He stirred in his seat. Then he asked in a soft, squeamish voice,
“You mean you wanna have a party right here?”</p>
<p>Frances giggled. “Sure, right here. We got lights, we got guests, now
all we need is a band.”</p>
<p>“You can sing!” he blurted.</p>
<p>She was taken aback, swallowing and rubbing her hands together.
“Well, sure, but I didn’t mean me. I mean, I’m not very good, that’s
all.”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s okay, I can plug my ears. Well, there’s the boats too, but
they can’t hear us anyway.” At her hesitation and upturned eyebrows, he
added, “C’mon, it’ll be great, it’s your dream, right?”</p>
<p>A slight burning sensation behind the eyes unsettled Frances. She
felt a twinge in her chest, and her nose felt a little runny. She did
her best to swallow it down, but the result was just a ball of
butterflies rustling around in her gut as she stood up from her
chair.</p>
<p>“Well, one song can’t hurt to get the party started, eh?”</p>
<p>She bit her tongue and stepped gingerly away from the cafe tables,
closer to the water’s edge. Her hands trembled oh-so-slightly, but she
arrested them behind her back. She took a deep breath to steady herself
and clumsily cleared her throat.</p>
<p>Frances parted her lips and allowed the pent-up lyrics, her
favorites, to spill out.</p>
<p><em>Sometimes I wonder why I spend</em><br />
<em>The lonely nights</em><br />
<em>Dreaming of a song</em><br />
<em>The melody haunts my reverie</em><br />
<em>And I am once again with you</em><br />
<em>When our love was new</em><br />
<em>And each kiss an inspiration</em></p>
<p>The words felt strong, familiar, comforting, and warming. As she
sang, Frances felt her lungs fill with air as if she hadn’t drawn breath
for days—weeks even. Her chest swelled, and she felt compelled to push,
to show the melody out. She spun on her heels, arms out in the air,
projecting the sweet verses.</p>
<p><em>But, that was long ago</em><br />
<em>Now my consolation</em><br />
<em>Is in the stardust of a song</em><br />
<em>Beside the garden wall, when stars are bright</em><br />
<em>You are in my arms</em><br />
<em>The nightingale tells his fairy tale</em><br />
<em>Of paradise where roses grew</em></p>
<p>Her feet firmly planted, the tremors gone from her fingers, wrists,
and arms, she belted the words. Each one complemented the last; the beat
was driving and buttery smooth. Frances felt a tingling on the back of
her neck, an electric current goading her on and rejuvenating her. Now
she clutched her arms close together again, softening the attack and
decay of her voice. She delivered the final verse just as strong, but
infinitely more earnest.</p>
<p><em>Though I dream in vain, in my heart it will remain</em><br />
<em>My stardust melody</em><br />
<em>The memory of love’s refrain</em><br />
<em>Though I dream in vain, in my heart it will remain</em><br />
<em>My stardust melody</em><br />
<em>The memory of love’s refrain</em></p>
<p>She was panting now and looked around under the yellow light of the
park to see if anyone had heard. She shifted impatiently on her heels
and, almost automatically, gave a short curtsy.</p>
<p>Luke ceaselessly clapped his hands together in his chair, so hard
that it was rocking side to side on its uneven legs. Frances smiled,
covering her teeth with one hand as he continued his applause with a
standing ovation.</p>
<p>“That was amazing, amazing! How did you do that, how did you learn?”
he babbled on and on, showering her with praise and compliments she felt
she had little right to.</p>
<p>“I picked it up here and there. I had a tutor when I was younger,
too.”</p>
<p>“I knew it, I knew I had to be in heaven. Only an angel sings like
that.”</p>
<p>“You’re too sweet,” she tried to play it down, but if she was being
honest with herself, Frances couldn’t remember the last time her singing
was liked, let alone tolerated. It wasn’t the kind of thing an heiress
in her family did, nor was it the kind of thing a boyfriend approved of
her getting up on stage to do in front of their friends.</p>
<p>She felt good. Happy, even.</p>
<p>“Well, Luke, the party’s started. What shall we do next?” Might as
well double down, she figured.</p>
<p>“Let’s look for bumper cars! Vroooom,” he started running around in a
figure eight again, this time mimicking a steering wheel.</p>
<p>“Do you really think we can drive ’em?”</p>
<p>“Well, maybe not, but we could dodge them! Then we can pretend to get
smashed, boom!” and he kicked backward, tumbling over onto the grass,
giggling as his cap flew off his head.</p>
<p>His round face, the cap, and the amber glow of the lights all came
crashing back onto Frances like wave after wave of shock. Her head felt
light, and her face tingled, leaving her feeling clammy and bloodless.
She remembered the fuzzy, blind, drunken, dizzying sensation in her
head. She remembered instantly the foggy avenue and her dim headlights,
the lurching sensation as she struggled to maintain control.</p>
<p>She remembered the boy crossing the street.</p>
<p>She cupped her hand over her mouth and knelt down in the grass. She
felt sick, wretched even. Her pitiful end coming back to her in one
single motion was more than she could hold back, and the tears burned
their way out of her eyes while she gasped for air. Her sniveling came
in spurts at first, before her breath hitched and kick-started a train
of gasps and wails.</p>
<p>“Oh no, oh Luke—”</p>
<p>Little Luke stood up from retrieving his cap and, upon seeing Frances
on the lawn, sprinted over to her side. He put a small hand on her
shoulder and sort of patted her the way she had done earlier.</p>
<p>“Hey, it’s okay, we don’t have to play that game. We can do something
else.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not that,” she gasped. “I just remembered how it happened.
I’m pretty sure I know what happened to you, too.”</p>
<p>His eyes widened. She tried to control her heaves for air, and in
between breaths, she managed to get it all out.</p>
<p>“You were right, I do miss parties. I used to sing at clubs. I’d get
in the car with my friends, my boyfriend, and we would all go. I wasn’t
a very happy person. The crowd didn’t always like how I sang, so I would
sit at the bar for a while. Dance a little, head to the next place, and
do it all over again.</p>
<p>“Well, one night I was singing. My date, he… well, he ditched me. He
didn’t like how I sang either. So I closed the place out—I was really
sloshed. I got in my car, and I started driving fast. Real fast. It was
foggy, I couldn’t really see. I—I hit a small child. A boy. I don’t
remember anything after that.”</p>
<p>Luke’s nose was running as he hiccuped, his eyes turning puffy and
misty again.</p>
<p>“Luke, I am so, so sorry. Luke,” she stammered. “I’m the reason
you’re dead. I’m the reason we’re both here. I killed us.”</p>
<p>His chest was heaving beneath his suspenders. Frances pulled him in
close, wrapping her arms around him and gasping for breath. He mumbled
into the sequined shoulder of her dress. “You mean you died in a car
crash? All alone? That’s so sad.”</p>
<p><em>He can’t really be thinking of me. The miserable drunk who runs
over kids?</em> She pulled away to look squarely in his puffy eyes,
wiping her nose with her other hand as she did. “Luke, I did that to
myself. But you didn’t deserve that. You’re a good person.”</p>
<p>“So are you, you’re my friend. Nobody deserves to die like that.”</p>
<p>Her chest still ached, tight with exertion and that burning,
clenching sensation. She smiled anyway, straightening his cap. “Well,”
she sniffled. “It’s because of me you’re not gonna get to grow a beard.
I only hope one day I can make it up to you. I’m so sorry for what I
did. I’ll never forgive myself.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I forgive you!”</p>
<p><em>He makes it sound so easy, like he doesn’t get it.</em></p>
<p>“Luke, I don’t think you understand—”</p>
<p>“No, really, I forgive you. You didn’t mean to hurt me, I know that.
You were sad and lonely, and you didn’t know what you were doing. But
it’s okay, friends forgive each other.”</p>
<p>He dove into her shoulder and embraced her again, his warm arms
wrapped around her neck tightly. She closed her eyes and allowed herself
to imagine a world where she might have met this little boy walking
around the city, just passing by. Or darting between her and her friends
around Coney Island, racing off to the next attraction.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Luke.”</p>
<p>He kept his warm arms around her neck, refusing to let go. The warmth
started to spread, and she could feel a growing radiance from his hands,
arms, chin, and torso. She opened her eyes and saw she was bathed in
white light. Not the incandescent strands dotting the park, but a hot
glow.</p>
<p>“Luke, look! Let go, Luke!”</p>
<p>She pushed him away and showed him his hands. The light glowed with
vibrant intensity, climbing up from his fingertips and spreading along
his arms. He gaped, turning his hands this way and that to watch the
warm beams. Then he took a step back and checked the underside of his
shoes as if he had stepped in something.</p>
<p>“Frances!”</p>
<p>His whole body was enveloped now; he looked like his whole body was
wreathed in white-hot flame tinged in blue. She stared at him, mouth
open, a flutter returning to her gut as she clasped her hands together.
Her breathing had calmed, and the heaving in her chest ceased. All she
felt was Luke’s great subliminal warmth.</p>
<p>“Luke, what—how do you feel?”</p>
<p>“I feel great! I feel so warm,” he remarked before licking his lips.
“And I can taste again. And smell again!”</p>
<p>She didn’t know what to think. Everything she saw defied thought; no
rational logic, deduction, or assumption could help her understand what
she was experiencing. But she did feel something, a clinging,
overwhelming joy she couldn’t shake.</p>
<p>“Luke, I think you get to go now,” she excitedly exclaimed as she
took his little hands and shook them.</p>
<p>“I get to go? Oh yippee, I get to go, I get to go!” he stamped and
jumped up and down in place, then quickly faltered. “Wait, what about
you?”</p>
<p>It was not lost on Frances that she was the same pale figure without
sensation that she had been. In her excitement, this failed to bother
her, although now that she reflected on it, she decided she didn’t feel
that bad about it. She was glad and confident that someone, somewhere,
had made the right choice.</p>
<p>“Oh, well, maybe it’s not my time yet. But don’t worry about me, I’ll
be alright. You’re gonna get to see some amazing things!”</p>
<p>Despite her reassurance, he protested, “But I wanna see them with
<em>you</em>. Friends stick together. Besides, they gotta hear your
singing in heaven, you’d make a beautiful angel.” He paused, screwing
his face tight in thought again, before exclaiming, “I got it! I forgave
you, so you gotta forgive me back.”</p>
<p>“But you haven’t done a single wrong thing to me. You never hurt
me.”</p>
<p>“Well, maybe then you gotta forgive you too.”</p>
<p>No, that wouldn’t do. Maybe Frances did deserve what she got. She
lived a pretty miserable life; she figured her afterlife ought to meet
expectations. She tried to assure him again by saying, “Luke, I don’t
think it can work for me. You should go by yourself. You’re a brave boy,
you’ll be alright.”</p>
<p>“But that’ll leave you all alone. I don’t want you to be alone. I’ll
stay with you,” he half-tripped as he stumbled up to her and wrapped his
little arms around her tight again, clenching like he had no intention
of letting go.</p>
<p><em>Forgive myself.</em> She closed her eyes. He made it sound easy.
It wasn’t what she deserved. She couldn’t remember forgiving herself for
much. She blamed herself for how her mother and father felt about her.
Blamed herself when nobody liked her singing. Blamed herself when every
boyfriend walked out on her. Heck, now she was guilty of running down a
child, and she was downright positive that was worth blaming herself
over.</p>
<p>Luke hugged her tighter, little white and blue wisps floating off his
shoulder and streaming up into the air around them.</p>
<p>He’s a good kid. He’ll be happier once he’s with his people. More
likely than not, Luna Park’s a whole lot better up there anyway. Maybe
he could even grow a beard up there without having to be an old man. He
would understand one day. Some people were just bad, and they didn’t get
to be redeemed, not by a few lousy roller coasters anyway.</p>
<p>The boy nestled his face into her hip, pushing into her and holding
on even tighter. The wisps grew stronger now, little blue coronas
shooting off like sparks from his hat and shoes.</p>
<p>He’s a good kid. He made it sound so easy. <em>Maybe if he doesn’t
think I’m so bad, then maybe I’m not so bad.</em> Frances took a deep
breath again and held it. She put a hand on his cap, distorting and
flickering the warm light as she did. <em>Maybe I can do it as easily as
he can.</em> She let her breath back out, allowing a shred of guilt to
go with it.</p>
<p>Luke’s warm light sparked and flickered once more. She lifted her
fingers from his cap to find her index and middle fingers radiating a
white gleam. The blue-tinged fiery luminescence climbed down her
outstretched hand and flowed up her arm to her heart where an
all-encompassing heat grew. It spread out through every vein, nerve, and
pore of her consciousness, like her soul was wrapped in a freshly ironed
blanket.</p>
<p>“You did it, you did it!” Luke looked up, beaming from ear to
ear.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Frances was aware her feet weren’t even touching the ground
anymore, as she and Luke hovered over a foot off the ground. She smiled
and laughed, and gestured frantically with her arms, “Luke, we did it,
you did it! How can I ever thank you?”</p>
<p>“It’s my turn, and tag, you’re it!” And quickly as he could, Luke
began to doggie paddle through the air, climbing with every stroke such
that he was now about twenty feet off the ground.</p>
<p>“Oh no, you don’t, I’m gonna get you!” Frances gave chase,
backstroking her way out over the river, paying no mind to the height as
she and Luke climbed far up over the lagoon, past the illuminated
tower.</p>
<p>They took turns, invariably chasing each other through the night sky
on their journey. They paid no attention to the park’s attractions or
the returning parade of elephants. No more did they look to take in
sights of the city’s skyline, or the indigo sky and its first burgundy
rays of daylight. No living soul saw, or would ever be able to discern
them from two twinkling bright candles, flickering once again each
before they vanished together into the starry skies beyond.</p>