Beckoning
Lydia Deetz was bored. She was sitting in the library, trying in vain to write a paper for her Psychology class. She had exactly one paragraph finished. Her mind wasn't focused. It hadn't really been focused for a few weeks now. She had gone home for break about three weeks ago, and in the process of cleaning out her closet, had run across her "wedding dress." It was a hideous thing, and she had no idea why she had kept it. But just like the ring, it had been safely tucked away, instead of discarded. She must have stared at the thing for hours, shuddering at the memories it held. Finally, she had shoved it back into its' box and pushed it to the very back of the closet. Finding that dress had started a very strange and disturbing chain of events. First, there had been the snake. She had been in the garden behind the house, pulling weeds, when she suddenly froze. Right in front of her was a black and white snake. Lydia jumped, and screamed, running into the house. It had taken hours for her to convince herself that it wasn't him, so she could calm down. Next, Delia's statue of him had fallen of the shelf and shattered into about a million pieces. She had been rattled for days after that. By the time she returned to school, things had somewhat gotten back to normal, and she had almost forgotten about the strange happenings at home. That is, until she got to her first class. She had decided to take some fashion design classes for extra credit. In her very first class back, the assignment had been to create a formal evening gown from vertical striped black and white fabric. It had taken every ounce of willpower she had not to run screaming from the room. Little things like that had, over the weeks, left her tired and nervous. She hadn't been sleeping well, and when she did get some sleep it was filled with strange dreams of him. She had wondered, briefly, if it was him, trying to contact her, but she had quickly dismissed the idea. She was certain that there was no escape from the belly of a sandworm. At least she hoped there wasn't. She had gotten so flustered, that she actually tried to call him once or twice. But just as she suspected, there had been no answer. He was probably really dead this time. "Dead, dead, deadski…." she thought, just like he had said the first time they met. Lydia shook her head, trying to dislodge thoughts of him. She had to finish her paper. Unfortunately, one of the books she needed had been decommissioned by the library, and hauled to the basement. The librarian had informed her that she could look for it, if she liked, and added "good luck," a little too smugly for Lydia's liking. But it was a reference that she needed, so she steeled herself for a trip to the library's basement.
It was dank and moldy, and barely lit. Ever since "the incident" and all the reminders of him, Lydia wasn't the biggest fan of the dark. Every shadow seemed to take his form, every breeze felt like his cold breath. She shivered, and thought about just forgetting the book. "Oh Lydia, get a grip," she told herself. He was gone, and that was that. Still, she couldn't help wondering again if there was a way to escape a sandworm. She figured if anybody could do it, he could. She shrugged off the thought and began to descend the stairs. Once she was in the basement, she realized that she had forgotten the name of the book she needed. "Oh hell," she said aloud. She thought that maybe it was a sign. She should just forget the book and get out of the creepy basement. She would just find another reference. As she turned back toward the stairs, the lights suddenly dimmed. She didn't see the box directly in front of her. By the time her shins made contact, it was too late. She fell headlong over it, crashing to the cold concrete floor. "Ow, dammit," she said. She sat up slowly. As if on cue, the lights brightened once again. "Oh that is just fantastic," she said sarcastically. She stood and dusted herself off. This day was just getting worse. She took a step, and realized she had kicked something across the floor. She leaned down and squinted in the dim light. The title of the book caught her attention. She picked it up and stared at the cover. Spectral and Corporeal Union, it read. Lydia's eyes grew wide. She opened the book tentatively. The words she read made her heart race. Could this really be what she thought it was? "No way," she said. Things like this weren't real. And if they were real, she thought it would probably take a very seasoned witch and a very elaborate ritual to make it happen. Lydia frowned. Why was she even entertaining this idea? Did she really want to have to face the ghost who tried to marry her again? Could she? Was it even possible? She shook her head and dropped the book back onto the box. "Just walk away and forget you ever saw it," she told herself. She took two very confident steps toward the stairs. She sighed heavily and turned around. "Oh hell," she said, picking up the book and tucking it under her arm. Maybe just a peek. That couldn't hurt…..right?