From the moment he left Beatrice at the house, something seemed to bother Wirt. After coming home, all he could ever recall in his mind was the redhead leaning on her desk with eyes filled with endearment and a look of nostalgia or longing. It was something about how soft her glance seemed, as though she was falling into a sweet dream and just letting the dream whisk her away into unknown fantasies. The Beatrice that Wirt knew didn't seem like she would have that side to her, especially to a kid, but she had that look and it practically startled Wirt by its appearance.
Perhaps, "startled" isn't the right word. "Baffled" would be more perfect. "Stunned" was a better word to describe the shock he felt from that day.
It hit Wirt that it's been a day since then. He's been in his mind wondering so much about what he saw in that mirror — whether or not it was real or if by chance, some magic spell was casted on the mirror.
He stops his wandering thoughts abruptly. "Magic spell." Surely, it could not have been a magic spell, right? THere was no way such a thing existed. It would be illogical to think so, ut then again, ghosts should not exist yet now he's entangled in a predicament with one.
All these thoughts… in the morning as he was zoning out while eating breakfast. The boy blinks and snaps back to reality: he's been holding a spoonful — or it used to be a spoonful of milk and cereal in front of him as though he were about to eat it but was paused before he could eat it. He couldn't focus; it could be of how curious he was of that image of Beatrice wrapped around his mind, or the fact that it's just the morning and he was groggily. Either way, he just wanted to ask BEatrice some questions.
As he continues with his breakfast, he hears a certain chipper voice coming down the stairs.
"And she gave me this boat, see? I'm going to call it S.S. Skipper."
"That's really nice of her to give that to you," Another voice replies, one lower and more mature.
Wirt looks up to see his stepbrother and stepfather joining him at the breakfast table. The two greet him and Wirt shortly greets back before silently continuing with his cereal.
He looks toward Greg, who was toying with his "new" boat happily. Suddenly, the image of Beatrice came back to the forefront of mind; the soft lopsided smile of her pink lips while her eyes conveyed opposing feelings.
"Hey Greg?" Wirt lowers his spoon. "You like ghosts...right?"
"Yeah! Is this about Beatrice? She's an awesome ghost—"
"Yeah, okay. I was just wondering: is it possible that perhaps ghosts can be held back because of how they're feeling?"
"Hmmm…" Greg pauses, "Yeah, I read something like that."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah! Sometimes, the ghost gets too sad about something they did, and then they stay here because they are sad." Greg thinks. "Is Beatrice sad about something? I can give her ice cream to make her feel better!"
"Greg, you have a field trip today." Their step-dad steps in.
"Oh nuts…" Greg snaps his fingers, "Can you give her ice cream for me, Wirt?"
"Sure, but I just have one more question —"
"Hold on there," Their stepfather places his hand on Greg's shoulder, stopping Wirt in the middle of his question. "Is this true about the ghost?"
Wirt freezes immediately. Stammering, he blurts, "Ah, what? O-Oh, psh, no! We were just playing around with a… friend. She was playing as a ghost, and Greg just is playing along. Game's over, Greg!" The teen laughs weakly.
"Really —"
Wirt quickly gobbles the last bits of his food and gets up from his seat before his stepfather can continue. He takes his bag and swings it around to wear it on his back.
"Well, it was a nice breakfast! Have to go a school day! I-I mean, I have a good day!" Wirt panics more, pausing to take a deep breath before structuring his sentence, his hand already on the knob of the entrance door and already standing outside. "Have a good day!"
"Alright, take care, Wirt —"
Wirt closes the door quickly and stomps down the sidewalk to get to the bus stop quickly. His shoulders droop at the painstaking event that just occurred.
Well, it certainly was a weird breakfast, but now he's got some answers, though he wished he was able to ask the "magic" question. He'll just have to ask Beatrice for more answers.
But that has to wait until the end of the school day.
Once class was out, he scrambles to get out hastily, passing by friends that would try to stop him, but they could not keep him from leaving in such a rush.
Soon enough, Wirt finds himself before the familiar door of the house again. He huffs, rubbing the back of his neck, worried that these questions he has on his mind will bother the ghost, like a parasite eating away at her. Second thoughts start to rise in his mind, shrouding his confidence and beckoning him to forget it all.
He checks his watch to see the time. Early. Perhaps he should come back another time.
Wirt turns around, ready to head back home, but the door creaks open. Turning back, he stares blankly into the house, eyes searching for, of course, —
"You're early," Beatrice says.
"Yeah."
"You're never early."
"Yeah, well," Wirt walks himself into the house, "I didn't realize class ended early today."
"Oh yeah?" Beatrice closes the door, "So how was that?"
Wirt pauses, trying to recall his class, but he couldn't. In fact, the most he can remember are his thoughts in class, especially in his history class, where the teacher quickly reviewed over the Salem Witch Trials in Massachusetts. His teacher was bickering about whether or not black magic truly existed in that time, and that lesson led his thoughts back to the mirror — an ethereal scene beyond a distorted vision.
The ghost girl clears her throat, making Wirt come back to reality. He blinks and looks towards the source of the sound, looking back at the door.
"You didn't answer my question," She responds.
"Oh, sorry," Wirt shakes his head, "It was okay, I guess. Nothing particular happened."
"Oh wait, what happened to Greg?" Beatrice asks. "Thought you said you didn't want to help anymore."
"W-Well, I could just leave," Wirt shrugs. "No harm with that."
Before Wirt can make a move, Beatrice stops him, "Okay, don't go but why didn't Greg come along?"
"He had a field trip, so he wasn't able to tag along."
"Oh, alright." The girl huffs, "So, do you have an idea?"
"Actually, yes, I do," Wirt proudly claims. "Er… well…"
"So, you don't have ideas?"
"I do!" He scrunches his nose, "But it's more like a bunch of questions.
"Really?" Beatrice continues with her annoyed tone. She sighs, "Well, if it's a way to help, then I guess, nothing to lose."
"Just trust me. I feel like this might be some help… maybe." Wirt rubs his arm.
"Alright, I'll trust you on that. Just back to our original promise, I suppose." She pauses. "Hey, you mind if we just walk around the house while you're asking the questions?"
"Oh, uh, sure?" Wirt shrugs. "You just… have to tell me where to go."
"Sure thing." Beatrice agrees, "Then, let's go… to the study."
Wirt walks himself past the living room into the study. He couldn't recall if he's actually been in the study. All the times he has been here, he could only recall going to the kitchen, the living room, and the bedrooms. Perhaps he went when he came the first time, which seemed like a long time ago. Regardless, he did not recall the mahogany book shelves with glass doors lined against the walls, nor the shiny wooden table that sat in the center of the room, nor the matching shiny wooden chair. The scene seemed rather odd to him.
As he walks toward the table, from the corner of his eye, Wirt sees a faded reflection of himself. In front of his own reflection stands Beatrice. She turns around putting her hands on her hips.
"Alright, so?" Beatrice huffs. "What are you questions?"
"Right," Wirt rubs the back of his neck, unsure of how to bring the topic up more smoothly. "Um… do you have siblings?"
No response at first, then —
"A-Are you serious?" Beatrice monotones, dropping her arms. "Are you asking… if I had siblings?"
"...Oh," Wirt realizes the fault in his question, tensing up. "Shoot, sorry. It's kind of related to that question, uh…"
Beatrice lets her head hang low, "It's not going to be a dumb question again, is it?"
"Oh, no! It's not…" Wirt mutters. "You know, yesterday? When.. Greg came along?"
Beatrice's reflection switches off on one glass to the next as she walks, tracing her hand against the door, "Uh-huh." Wirt could tell that he was already losing her interest.
"Well, when we were all just hanging around in your room… I couldn't help but wonder."
Beatrice stops in her place at the shelf right behind the chair. Her ginger head turns to look at Wirt, "Wonder about what?"
"Just the way you were looking at Greg…" Wirt's words trail off, embarrassed of recalling such a memory.
"The way I looked?"
"Y-Yeah," Wirt stutters, "When I saw you in the mirror, you looked at Greg with a look as though he reminded you of something."
"Oh," Beatrice laughs lightly. "He just reminded me of my siblings. That's all."
"Yeah, but," Wirt traces his finger across the lines of the table, "The look you had was...sad. I mean, you were smiling, but it was like you were trying not to be sad because of a fond memory."
The ghost doesn't respond to Wirt's observation. Peering into the glass reflection, he sees Beatrice's figure freeze, face looking into the glass. Her head turns quickly to look at Wirt, without a single word. After a few seconds, he sees the figure move away from the shelves and toward the room. Her blurry figure sits itself in the wooden chair, leaning against the table's surface.
"You're surprisingly sharp," Beatrice chuckles. Wirt wanted to retort, but he kept his silence to listen to the other.
After letting out a huff, her voice peeps out in a low, hollow tone.
"When I saw your brother, it was like I said: he reminded me of my brothers and sisters. It's been so long since I've actually seen them, so I guess that was just me missing them."
"How long has it been, again?" Wirt asks.
Beatrice pauses in thought, "Around 200 years? I've sort of lost count at this point. But… I wonder if they're all doing alright now. Wherever they are."
From a sharp obnoxious tone to one of thoughtfulness and melancholy, Beatrice's whole mood changed. Wirt looks into the one of the glass door's reflection, recognizing a familiar stature: Beatrice slouching in her chair, with one arm propped up to support her head while the other was lazily strewn across the desk. Though he could not tell the expression on Beatrice's face, he can guess that she held the same expression as the day before — perhaps the difference being that with such a hollow, yet heavy voice, she wasn't smiling this time.
"There must be something more than that…" Wirt mumbles, looking down and bringing his hand up to his chin.
"Sorry?"
"Oh, uh," Wirt looks up again at the distant image of Beatrice looking at him. "I just think there has to be something more than that. A-At least, that's how I feel about what you said."
Beatrice turns away, now letting both of her arms rest on the table. She stares down toward her arms. She shakes her head slightly.
"No, that's about it."
It was something about that tone that made Wirt skeptical — made him doubt Beatrice's words.
He parts his lips, ready to inquire more, but he is quick to close his mouth, weary that if he asked more on it then Beatrice would shoo him away for the rest of the day. Bad choice if he wanted to make progress on this. Still, he gave himself credit for asking the question.
"Hey Wirt?" Beatrice speaks up.
"Yeah?"
"Do you have any other questions?" Her tone lightens — more airy while her words were elongated.
"Well, just one, but it's really dumb."
"And you're sure it'll help me?"
"I'm sure it will. I'm just… not entirely sure how."
Beatrice sighs, "Well, if it's a way to move on, then sure. But do you mind if we go up to the master bedroom? I think I want to sleep after I answer your question."
"Sure."
Then, the two left the study and walked up the stairs to head into the same bedroom as yesterday.
After walking up the stairs and entering the master bedroom, which looked untouched from yesterday, Wirt keeps his eye on the mirror waiting for Beatrice to appear. After several seconds later, she doesn't appear.
"Beatrice?" He calls.
"I'm here. Just laying on the bed." She replies.
"Oh. Alright." Wirt walks further into the room, deciding to take a seat by the vanity mirror.
Once he sits down on the tiny stool, he looks into the mirror, hand touching the mirror. There was nothing odd about the mirror — it wasn't distorted like he originally thought. He should have figured when Beatrice confirmed about his observations yesterday, as well as when he saw her reflection in the study.
"Hey Beatrice?" Wirt continues to trace his fingers around the mirror's edge. "This is going to sound really stupid, but when I saw you through the mirror, I thought it was some weird window into an alternate universe."
"What?" Beatrice snorts.
"H-Hey, just listen!" Wirt stammers. He clears his throat before proceeding, "So I thought that the mirror was distorted and all, and I kind of thought, 'Well, what if the mirror was enchanted?' And then I thought, 'Oh, what if magic exists?' It wouldn't be weird right? Since ghosts exist, and they shouldn't, magic could maybe exist, too, right?"
It took a while before Beatrice manages to answer, "Right again."
"So, magic does exist?"
Again, an elongated pause after the question. In a more irritated voice, Beatrice bitterly replies with a yes. Wirt feels reluctant to the change of tones. Should he stop asking her questions, or should he just keep questioning?
There was a long silence that bickered Wirt to speak up, but every bit of him refused. He didn't want to step any boundaries, but he knew he needed to possibly do so, if he wanted to help Beatrice.
But he wasn't the first to break the silence.
"There… was a witch." Beatrice huffs. Her voice certainly heavy with each word she slowly spoke.
"A witch?" Wirt probes.
"Adelaide of the forest. At least, that's how she introduced herself." The ghost replies. "She..." Her voice comes to a sudden halt, as though the girl had something catch her off-guard.
"Beatrice?" Wirt worries.
"It's…" Her voice quiets down, pauses, before picking up a lighter tone. "She just cursed me, that's all. Old hag's just got some bone to pick with me is all."
"And that's all?"
"Yeah, are we done here?" Wirt notices Beatrice's slightly quickened tone — impatient. "I'm getting a little exhausted with all the questioning. It's like everytime we talk it's always question after question. No real action."
"Like I said," Wirt stands up from the stool, "I think I'm getting somewhere. I just need some footing."
"If you say so," Beatrice sighs, "It's getting late. You should get going."
"Sure thing. I'll see you tomorrow, Beatrice." Wirt walks out the bedroom door.
"Yeah… see ya."
And just like that, Wirt left the ghost to her empty house. As he walked down the streets back home, he recalled all the new information he got from today: Beatrice missing her siblings and the witch. However, there definitely was something — a hunch — that put Wirt off about Beatrice today. She was hiding something, possibly about the witch. He reasoned that perhaps the witch could be the cause of why Beatrice cannot move on, but Beatrice's reluctance to answer may be straying him away from the truth. He has to know more before trying to solve this problem. However, he couldn't help but believe the witch really is the reason behind Beatrice's fixed state. So, once he learns more about the witch and fixes the problem, Beatrice's problem will be solved, and Wirt will be free. But, is this really the path to a solution?
