The air was heavy with death, Penney knew, but didn't care. Reports were already traveling that this was the bloodiest battle to come from the war. Penny walked among the bodies, their pockets upturned and whatever belongings they'd had were dumped around their bodies. Shoes, socks, even whatever weapons they might have had were gone, stolen away by enemy and comrade alike. The Confederates, rumor had it, were hard-pressed to fund the war, running low on supplies and stealing from the dead.
But Penny didn't care about that. The fifteen-year-old only cared about her Bertrand; the man she was to marry.
"Hello." Penny gasped, twisting on the spot, and she was trapped, left screaming in her own mind as, as...
Oh.
There were no words. It was like the world itself had come alive; an invisible world had welcomed her into its embrace. Half-tangible soldiers shot at one another, and the air was thick with something that tasted like... cherries. A mouthful of cherries that had been left in an icebox for an afternoon and were half-frozen, making them sharp and tart on her tongue, and so juicy that they dribbled chill red juices between her lips and down to her chin.
I am sorry for taking over your body like this, a voice (the same voice that had greeted her, soft with the careful nuance of a government man) spoke in her mind. But I was in desperate need of a body to inhabit. Penny, was it?
Yes, she couldn't help but reply, as she did her best to separate herself from the feeling that brought her back to the days long past, when she was indulged by Father and Mother hadn't yet begun to impress upon her the importance of being a proper lady.
"Penelope Spectra," she felt herself say, the name almost being tested on her lips and weighing heavy on her tongue. "Oh, my dear. Why call yourself Penny? Penelope is such a fascinating, strong name."
Was he okay, she began begging the creature. It could see the dead as though they were still alive, so was her Bertrand okay?
"Bertrand?" Her head tilted to the right, face contorted into a frown. "I am afraid that there were remarkably few survivors from either side of the battle."
Perhaps he was one of the lucky ones, she reasoned. Bertrand was always a rather lucky fellow.
"Penelope, see reason. This man you're seeking is no-" a choking noise as her body shuddered, and she was back in control. "No! He must be alive! He must! Father is intent upon my marriage to him, Bertrand cannot be dead!"
Do you love him?
"What?"
Do you love him, Penelope? The thing asked her, and there was a cold shudder, like she'd been tripped into a chill fall river. In front of her appeared a man, tall and thin and wearing a suit-coat that fit snug against his body. Sharp blue eyes gazed at her from within a face full of equally sharp features and framed by short, unruly black hair.
"I... Love has nothing to do with it," she replied. "A proper lady is required to ensure that her intended is unharmed."
If you don't love him, then why come all this way? Or... perhaps it's that you wanted to get away.
"Leave Father, Mother, and run off on my own like some, some... harlot?"
Oh, Penelope, you're no harlot. The thing was crooning, purring as it moved closer, and she began to see the specters of the dead once more, began to taste the tart half-frozen cherries once more. You are an independent woman, and you cannot deny yourself any longer.
"You're speaking of things most improper!" Penny felt her legs give way, and she fell backwards, but did not land on the ground. Instead, she found herself in the arms of the thing.
I speak of the truth. Is the truth improper? And she could not deny it, the truth. Mother asked too much of her. Father took Mother's side, the importance of teaching her to be a 'proper' lady.
She did not like being a proper lady.
"Penny!" Mother rushed to her side, followed closely by Father. She was so terribly, terribly hungry. "Penny where have you been?"
"I've found my Bertrand, Mother." She smiled, and it looked like a shard of glass shoved into a china doll's mouth and left to bleed. "He gave me such delicious cherries. And I'm so terribly hungry."
"Oh, Penny.." And why did Mother sound so sad? Bertrand had found her, and had shown her the many foods that could be feasted upon. "We've received word. Bertrand... He did not survive the battle in Gettysburg."
"I already knew that, Mother. That was not my Bertrand." There was that smile again, like a broken china doll. "He taught me how to find my own food. But I need him close by."
There was a flash of metal, followed by two people screaming.
Penelope laughed with Bertrand.
She could taste the cherries again.