Home for Wayward Spirits: Part 2

by Shannon Kostyal

“Are you sure it’s even still here?’ the skepticism in Callie’s voice matched the dubious look she cast to the entry of the thrift shop. The inside was dim, and seemed even more so compared to the brightness of the sun outside. The mustiness of the air didn’t help the mood much, either.

I rolled my eyes at her, not bothering to reply. Of course it was here. After my eyes adjusted to the darker atmosphere, I began casting about, looking for signs of the dresser. To the right, I caught a glimpse of familiar sage green and nearly squealed with excitement. I rushed over to a stack of smaller items lined against one of the walls. A touch confused, I realized all the sage green dresser top accessories had been cellophane wrapped together. Weird storage decision, but whatever. I caught sight of the decorative mirror and candle holder combination, and nudged that closer to the boxes.

“Here!” I cried out, waving my sister over. “This is it! I told you it was here!” I couldn’t help it; I rarely had the chance to toss out an I told you so directed at Callie. I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass.

“I see you found some boxes and a mirror… what about the actual, you know… dresser?” 

I shuffled the cellophane wrapped bundle to the side, and stood there a moment, eyes searching in every direction. No dresser. 

“But.. This is part of it. They wouldn’t have just sold them off separately, would they? Especially not without the mirror…”

Callie snorted. “It’s a thrift shop. They’ll sell it however they can to get money. I don’t think they really care what goes with what.”

I shook my head in denial. “It’s here.. Just. I don’t know. Maybe they stashed the main body of the dresser with their other larger furniture items…” 

Callie shrugged, starting to lose interest.

“Let’s split up. I’m sure we’ll find it!” I pleaded, clasping my hands together in a caricature of begging. 

Callie sighed, rolling her eyes at the theatrics. “Whatever… it’s at least better than spelunking through old vinyls. Not sure I can take any more ‘everything used to be so much better back then’ monologues from mom.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I practically bounced up and down. Callie just shrugged, and motioned for me to lead on. 

We spent about 40 minutes picking and searching through every sow space on the first floor. My excitement waned as time passed. Maybe my sister was right, and they had sold the dresser. The thought settled like a lump of mud in the pit of my stomach.

I was close to giving up, and close to tears when Callie tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at a set of stairs. “What’s up there?”

I blinked. I’d sort of forgotten about the second floor. It was mostly clothing, but with the usual scatter of discarded plastic toys. My mouth twisted in a designated grimace. Going to the second floor was practically admitting full blown defeat. 

I sighed, shoulders slumping. “I doubt it’d be up there… but sure…” The pep and excitement of earlier was fully gone now. I led the way upstairs, noticing absently how the steps creaked with each footfall. It was an older building, and not everything was maintained and updated.

When I reached the top of the landing, I started scanning the layout, expecting to find exactly what I usually did: second-hand clothing and a lot of plastic junk.

“Hey. What about over there?” Callie pointed to the left, where some center space had been cleared out for small end tables, a couple of shelving units, and… 

I squealed loudly enough that Callie winced. The past half hour of defeat vanished, and I practically ran to the collection of furniture. It was here! Excitedly I ran hands over the surface of the dresser, feeling the crackled texture of old paint. I didn’t notice when my sister joined me, until she called out from the other side of the dresser. 

“Hey - looks like this is only eighty bucks. Seems kinda cheap, even by this place’s standard.”

Eyes wide, I hopped over to where she stood, and peered at the little white sticker half-way down the side of the dresser. Giddy, I reached out to test how heavy the dresser was. Could we carry it downstairs? It would fit in mom’s van, even with us in it. But if it was too heavy, then my dresser dreams were dead on arrival.

I braced myself to try picking up one side of the dresser, and beamed with happiness when I felt it easily lift. “This is super light weight!” I exclaimed. 

My sister, game to help, arranged herself on the other side and lifted. Together, we awkwardly shuffled ourselves and the dresser downstairs and to the checkout counter, me grinning the entire time. 

The lady at the checkout raised her brows in surprise, shaking her head. “You could have asked for assistance. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Still grinning, and bounced a bit on my toes. “Can we keep this here while I go get my mom and the other pieces that go with it?”

The lady smiled as she nodded. “Of course. Good eye, by the way. I was going to put the whole thing together later, just didn’t have the time.” She looked in the direction the matching green boxes and mirror attachment were stashed.

The rest had been fairly easy once we pried mom from the old tiny records. With minimal effort, we were able to get the dresser into the van, and from there, easily moved it up to my bedroom on the second floor. 

With excited satisfaction, I shifted my desk a bit further down one wall, and was able to fit the dresser between my bed and desk. My sister, bored now that the hunt was over, had since retreated back to her room to work on her paper. I had a sneaking suspicion she might be gaming instead, but if so, I couldn’t blame her. Who’d want to be writing when they could be gaming?

That evening, as I was settling down for the night, I decided to give my new dresser a spin. It had candle holders, after all. It was meant to be used!

Pulling open the top drawer — with I’d designated my junk drawer —I retrieved a barbecue lighter and two tapered beeswax candles, and settled them into the shallow cup of the candle holders. 

“Goddess, thank you for helping me find the perfect dresser.” Amused, I let out a puff of breath. Yeah.. I realize it’s dumb to assume the gods would care about my furniture options… but, I was going to thank them anyway. 

I flicked the lighter on and lit the candles. The golden hue seemed to dance along the decorative frame of the mirror. Happily I flipped the light switch, because the only way to truly enjoy candle light was without the addition of electricity.

For a few minutes I was entranced by the flicker of the candles and play of light reflected in the mirror. And then I blinked uneasily as something shimmered oddly in the glass reflection. A chill swept down my spine, goose bumps prickling along my skin.

Anxious, I retreated to my bed, eyes glued to the dresser. After a few moments longer, I managed to convince myself it’d just been my imagination, when I saw movement in the mirror again. Anxiety fizzing back to the top, I panicked and dashed for the light switch, flooding my room in dull yellowed light. 

The dresser looked normal. And I could clearly see the mirror was just a mirror. Letting out a shaky breath, I berated myself. I was being ridiculous. Flipping the light off again, I hopped back into bed, pointedly not looking in the direction of the dresser.

Rest did not come easy that night. I’d finally managed to fall asleep when someone prodded me awake.

Blearily I rolled over, back to them, and cocooned myself in my blanket, mumbling “Five more minutes, mom…” 

The prodding continued until I reluctantly emerged from my blanket burrito and blinked sleepily at the shape in front of me. 

At the vaguely translucent shape in front of me that was clearly not my mom. I squinted, confused. She looked to be about my sister’s age. If my sister were see-though.

Confusion quickly shifted to full blown panic.. Fully awake now, I scrambled backward on my bed, adrenaline racing through my veins.

“The service here is terrible.” The figure announced, voice scathing in its disappointment.

“…The… what?” I managed to squeak out.

The figure whirled around in a swirl of foggy fabric, facing away from me, and gestured at my room. “The service. The accommodations. Most unacceptable.” 

I wanted to bolt from the room, but couldn’t seem to make my legs work. I settled for fearful mumbling, instead. “This is a dream. Come on… wake up… you’ve had these weird dreams before. Wake up…” 

The figure turned again, this time studying me with a puzzled expression. 

“What…” the voice clipped out, “are you?” 

Was that fear that flitted across her eyes? I clutched at my blankets, staring wide-eyed. Surely the apparition wasn’t scared of me?!