The Dead Man’s Ghost
Pulled out of his trance, Ben stood without a word. There, within a few feet of him, was a ghost—a ghost that he had summoned. Frozen by the weight of his own accomplishment, Ben stood there staring. The man before him, who could be none other than Franklin, examined his new state for a moment before turning his attention back to the stunned boy. Ben didn’t know what to do.
“I was somewhere else, somewhere… more peaceful. Why have you brought me back to this place?” he asked. Despite its faded features, the feelings of pain and disgust were scrawled across the ghost’s face
“I don’t know,” Ben stammered, words fumbling from his lips.
He started to explain, but his hands just waved around as he failed to put it all into words.
“Take a breath, boy.”
“The book… I don't know, the next thing I knew, I had your bones and then I watched you appear.”
He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.
Suddenly, his chest tightened and Ben couldn’t breathe. The wall was at his back and the ghost was in front. With nowhere to run, he backed against the cool concrete wall. Stuck in the corner with the ghost in front of him, Ben knew there was no more retreat. With no other options, he sat down, tightening himself into a ball.
Dread took over Ben’s mind as he watched the shade approach him. Lost in a second that churned on forever, he did what he could to hold on to stay calm. His palms were sweating as he balled up tighter. Ben didn’t know whether to cry or laugh as the shade inched closer to him. As the pressure built and became overwhelming, he finally exploded in a scream.
“Stop!” he said, halting Franklin where he stood. “Just stop! Give me a second to breathe; to think.” He forced the words out under duress. Ben took a deep breath and expelled it in one slow exhale. As the feeling in his arms began to return, bringing the sensation of needles in his hands and fingers, he realized how numb they had become. “I’m sorry, the book…I didn’t mean to.”
“The book?” the ghost asked, with a distraught look. “The Ala Azif? Please, tell me that’s not the book you speak of.”
“Please don’t hurt me,” Ben said.
The ghost floated over to the open book and looked down on the page that was exposed before him.
“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” he said, with his hand pushed through the tome.
The bone meal that now formed his body collected on the page in a pile as he reached through it. When he pulled back, his hand took its gray shape again. He held it up and examined it with newfound curiosity.
“My name is Franklin. I wrote this journal,” he said, pointing at the small notebook on the table. “Did you not read my warning? Or were you just too cynical to take it to heart?” The ghost looked at the cowering boy and frowned. “I have no intention of hurting you. Please, stand.”
Ben looked up, desperate to believe what Franklin was telling him. Forcing the fear and worry away, he stood with reluctance, hoping the immediate threat was gone. With one hand on the wall behind him at all times, he stared at the unthinkable before him.
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” the ghost said, his voice low and slow as if trying to bring the boy some amount of comfort. Keeping his distance, Franklin paused, seeing that the boy was terrified.
“You said you were in pain. What did you mean by that?” Ben asked. His voice lacked confidence, but his own curiosity had won through, forcing the words past his lips.
“Yes, existence is painful indeed. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt anything and now, here I am. It seems dramatic, but I feel like a newborn, thrust into the world of feelings again. When you are used to death, life becomes…painful,” Franklin said.
The words bore an unwavering truth that struck home with the boy. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Ben asked. The sadness in his voice was more prevalent than the fear. His own anxiety was now replaced by the sorrow he felt for the suffering being before him.
“It’s done, and I don’t think there is anything we can do about it. The book has chosen you, like it chose me,” Franklin said.
This comment grabbed Ben, causing him to let his guard down a little more. “What do you mean?”
“As I’m sure you understand now, this book is more than just ink on paper. It’s a powerful manuscript filled with all the darkest magic known to man. It was written by a man who traveled his entire life searching through every profane crevice he could find in order to discover the black secrets of the world. It has power beyond measure…” Franklin’s voice faded as he trailed off into thought.
“Anyway,” Franklin said, snapping back. “I found it in the year nineteen eleven, while on an expedition through eastern Europe. We learned of a cult named Tento Stary Múdrosti living in a small village near the Carpathian Mountains. They believed in sleeping gods and a cosmic consciousness that we are all tapped into. They used blood and sacrifice to perform the magic of the ancient gods they worshiped. Their rituals were grotesque and inhumane, to say the least. In our studies we learned of a book they used in their rituals; it was said to be older than any known manuscript. After many years of scouring the globe in search of a clue, the body of a man named Daniel Stevens was found with a journal. We didn’t think anything of it until the coroner's examination was released. Demonic symbols were carved into his skin, and we were asked to help the police understand what they meant. They gave us the journal willingly and to our surprise, it gave us all the information we needed to find the village and begin our stakeout."
“How can a book be evil?” the boy asked.
“I don’t know, but I have felt its power, and it was worth killing myself to keep it hidden away,” the ghost said with a stern expression.
“I’m sorry. If I had known I wouldn’t have come down here,” Ben said.
“Of course you wouldn’t have, but that isn’t how it worked out. Now, we have a real problem. I studied the book for years before I finally turned the gun on myself-”
The words made both of them pause for a moment, reflecting in the horror of it. Ben was left with a chill that forced an uncontrollable shake to creep over his shoulders.
“The book spoke of a second world close to this one. A world where things like magic and...ghosts are possible,” he said, looking down like it couldn‘t be true. “This world is the foundation of every myth there is. The stories we know all existed at one time, but were cut off from this world by an unknown event. It’s explained that this…schism is the reason we don’t see miracles any more, why magic and legendary creatures are no longer present, and mythical heroes aren’t more than just stories.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Ben said. This interruption stopped the ghost cold. He looked at the boy in disbelief. “Look, it’s hard enough for me to believe in ghosts, but now you are telling me that Hercules and the tooth fairy are real? What’s next, Santa Claus?”
“In a manner of speaking, but these are extremes. I didn’t believe it at first myself, being an atheist, but then I didn’t believe in ghosts either. It’s not the iconic images you know that are real, but rather the foundation of these myths. Everything comes from something, Ben.”
“Okay, so it’s not Hercules that exists there, but rather the person who inspired the story? Is that right?”
“Correct. The schism separated our worlds so that humans would be free from these beings. Free to live their own lives, outside of the influence of these godlike creatures,” Franklin said.
“So, this schism; who or what caused it?” Ben asked.
“That question is beyond my understanding. All I know is what I’ve seen and what I’ve read in the book. The book, it almost speaks to you,” Franklin said as he stared at it with a strange intent in his eyes. It seemed to draw him in as Ben stood there watching.
“So, say I choose to believe you. I mean, unless I’m insane, you are a ghost. That isn’t something I normally thought was possible,” Ben said. His fear had relented a bit, giving him enough confidence to step away from the wall, but not much more than that.
“The schism was created for a reason; to keep the wonders of the other world away from ours. A doorway has been opened and now you must close it,” Franklin said, his eyes still transfixed.
“Why didn’t you destroy the book?” Ben said. The accusation in his voice didn’t miss its mark.
“You don’t think I tried?” Franklin retaliated. The blatant anger was clear on his ethereal face.
“Okay, I’m sorry! So what do we do?” Ben asked. His posture changed, a defeated slouch replacing the confident stance.
“The book discusses the process in great detail. The first thing it says is to find the Sphinx and solve the riddle. When it was my responsibility, I wasn’t strong enough to complete this task, and gave up. I never even tried. After years of searching, I couldn’t handle the reality of such a creature. I was afraid.” Franklin walked back over to the tome. He flipped through the pages, which seemed to be moved by wind rather than his physical touch.
“A Sphinx?”
“The Sphinx is a renowned gatekeeper in mythology. It’s no surprise that it would be one here as well. Listen to me! You have a unique opportunity; I can help you. The riddle doesn’t have to be solved. The book only says that a sacrifice must be made to stave off the creature’s hunger. Do you have a cat, or any other sort of pet?” Franklin asked.
“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t let you feed it to some…creature,” Ben said, looking a little horrified.
“Hmm, I don’t know then. I guess your only chance is to solve the riddle. It doesn’t say much on that—”
“Wait, how do I even find this thing?” Ben interrupted.
“It says here that you go to a high point and search for a dark corner, so thick with shadow that it creates a false sense of depth. Say the word ‘Shirak’ and then step into it. This should take you to the Phoenix’s cave where the Sphinx now resides.”
“That doesn’t make sense, though, because I haven’t stepped into this other world yet,” Ben said.
Franklin looked amused by Ben’s puzzled look. “No, you haven’t, but the book opened the doorway when you unlocked it. It’s a force that pulls you in. You felt its grab, didn’t you? It drew your attention in until you were powerless to control yourself.”
“It was something like that. Summoning you was never my intention, but somehow I knew it was happening. I didn’t know what to expect or what I was doing. It was like sleepwalking,” Ben said.
The old ghost smiled, as if he could tell that Ben was starting to understand. He pressed on. “You are the keeper of the book now. It has chosen you. It’s your duty to…” Franklin trailed off as he read from the book. “To find the rite that will close this world off from ours.”
“That’s not right. It can’t be that easy,” Ben said, walking up to look over Franklin’s shoulder.
“You’re right, it’s not. You only opened the doorway in the first place because it allowed you to. It says right here”—tracing with his finger—“that you have to master the book itself to unlock its secrets.”
“This is bullshit! I didn’t choose any of this!” Ben erupted.
Franklin turned around and made stern eye contact with the upset boy. “No, you didn’t! Unfortunately, you have no choice in this matter, and I think it’s time you stopped being a child and got started.” The ghost turned back to the book.
Ben was about to say something, but gave up. He turned away from Franklin and the book, and started to walk out of the room.
“Ben, one more thing. Before you need to go, you need something personal to take with you. An item to-” the ghost's eyes drifted off as he tried to think of the word. “Anchor you. It doesn’t matter what. Just something important to you.”
Franklin turned his attention back to the book, not expecting a response from Ben.
As he left, his thoughts spiraled. None of it made sense. Was this ghost really his only option?
The pressure built in his chest like a vice. He wanted to run, to scream, to disappear, but there was nowhere left to go. No choices.
All he could do now was follow the ghost’s instructions, and pray they led somewhere other than ruin.
Terra Incognita — reading order