House of Frank

by Kay Synclaire

For as long as I live, Fi, I will never let you go.

“I’m a witch bound to earth, I’m afraid. I don’t own a broom.”

He’s wearing a beige knit cardigan. Tufts of reddish-brown fur poke out from his collar and his sleeves. Reading glasses hang from his neck,

But you see, words can become so difficult when your mouth dries up and a familiar tightness tugs in your chest.

“I cannot see. I have no sight. Turn this darkness into light.”

“We are born from the earth, and in death, we become it. It’s not all that peculiar, love.”

“You just want to see me touch myself, don’t you, Hilds?” She laughs.

“Ashes to plant,” Evette offers. “Like planting seeds. And something beautiful will grow from them.”

Don’t scatter me in the wind to be forgotten. I want to be planted. I want to become something beautiful.

I step into the world where you once existed with an assurance that⁠—yes, you are gone, you are no longer here, but oh, how good life felt when you were. You once existed. And those moments with you still exist.

“Young. Old. We all experience life whether we’ve had lots of it or very little.”

the planting of the ashes isn’t an ending. It’s a beginning.”

I’ll go. I’ll find something else to snuff out this ache in my heart from you leaving me.

Dear Jonathan, I’m sorry that it’s been ages since we’ve seen or heard from each other. I’m sure the girls have grown unrecognizable by now. I didn’t mean for it to be this long or for me to be as distant as I’ve been. It’s just

He knew, as well as I did, how adamant you were about me being the one to bury you.

Has a fairy ever hugged your face, Fi? It’s very awkward trying to pat her back. Do I tap her shoulder with the point of my finger?

“My mother was a witch. Me father a gargoyle. Hence the abomination before you.”

I want to talk to you, even if only in my dreams. But you disappear. And I wake up.

We found this magical item together. It’s the last thing shared between us. And now it’s gone.

“You pick out the fine linens, Saika. You pick out the extravagant fabric, and you wear them. You buy the expensive tea or the book you’ve always wanted. You eat the pie you’ve always wanted to bake, because after knowing how precious life is, those little moments start to feel quite damn big.”

I watch him go, witnessing yet another time we’ve taken Bee’s family from her.

“At least my hair is on my head and not my back.” Morose shrugs. “Hey, ladies love a man with a little body hair.” “Please, you’re an infant with stubble.”

It’s strange how grief works. I was content, walking these strange cobblestone streets, but then here you are. You lurk everywhere. You’re in my thoughts. You’re in my heart, so I cannot help but to find you everywhere.

“Petunias. A symbol for inner turmoil over something you’ve lost. Or someone.”

You enjoyed dancing on the strings of our mother’s patience, and I loved the melody it played.

But I’m not fine at all. In fact, I’m screaming on the inside, desperately pulling my limbs like a puppeteer just to show everyone else how perfectly fine I am.

I spoke the truth, and the world didn’t end.

“I see him,” he whispers. “I see Gerard. Oh, you handsome devil.” His eyes shift over to me. He grins.

I’m not playing you like some game, Saika. I trust you with my pain. I trust you with my heart. It’s all I can give to you.”

“Fiona was my very best friend. She was my first friend. She was my sister.”

“I love you, Fi. In life and in death, you will always be my sister.”

“It’s the end of a ceremony,” I say. “Aren’t you going to invite me to your room to console me?”

So that night, I help Oli get to her room. I help her shed her jacket. She helps me shed my silk gloves. And under the soft pitter-patters of rain, to each other, we express ourselves.

“Then talk to me. Write me letters. Speak to me in your mind. You are my sister, and our souls will forever be intertwined. In this life and the next. Speak to me. I’ll hear you.”