Distant Lives//Book Two of the Separate Entities Trilogy

Chapter One

There were some items, however, that were just too precious to even let go of. Myself, for instance, and a portrait I'd painted of Millard. Even for the short time I had been rowing, I had held it between my knees, just as Fiona was doing with a pot of worm infested dirt from the garden she used to tend. Millard - the invisible boy and, admittedly, the object of my affection - had streaked ash across his face as a sort of mourning ritual. I hadn't the heart to tell him he looked sort of ridiculous doing it. 

I was surprised when he flipped the Map of Days closed and switched spots with Fiona, allowing her time to rest after nearly an hour and a half of rowing. Not twelve hours ago he'd been shot near his collar bone, though I supposed if he thought he could manage rowing, I wouldn't object. I, too, had been shot, though the bullet merely grazed my arm. It wasn't nearly as bad as Millard's injury. I felt bad that I couldn't help with rowing, but my fear of boats was nearly crippling - I almost didn't get in.

Three harrowing hours passed, and the only telltale sign that we had been going anywhere was the very island we were leaving behind, fading into the distance the more we rowed. It looked tiny now, almost as if I could hold it in my hand. It seemed I wasn't the only one who noticed the island's gradual disappearance, for Enoch rose quickly, causing his boat to wobble a bit.

"Look! It's disappearing!" he shouted, pointing a finger in the direction of the island. Those who were rowing stopped, and we all focused on the home we were leaving behind as tendrils of fog hid it from view.

"It's time to say goodbye," Emma said, a frown on her face as she said what we were all probably thinking. She stood as well and removed her sunhat as a sign of respect. "This may be that last time we see it."

"Farewell, island. You were very good to us," Hugh began, a couple bees flying out of his mouth as if they too were saying goodbye.

Horace began waving goodbye, and I couldn't help but notice a tear streak down Millard's cheek, breaking up some of the ash. It was then that I remembered his book, and how it would forever and always be unfinished. All those years of close documentations had gone to waste along with his home. "Goodbye, house," Horace said, invading my thoughts. "I will miss all your rooms and gardens, but most of all, I will miss my bed." I wanted to laugh at that, but I knew I couldn't.

"Goodbye, loop," Olive spoke next, wiping at her own tears. "Thank you for keeping us safe after all these years."

"Good years," Bronwyn added. I swear I could feel my heart break and drop. "The best years I've known."

I felt that I would be intruding if I voiced my own goodbye, so instead, I kept it internal. I would forever be tied to this island, just as each of the others would be. I may not have had the memories of many years spent there, but I knew that this place had changed me nonetheless. This place, this island, would forever be in my memories and the memories of all the children it was home to over the years. I began to wonder: if I were to die tomorrow, what would I be remembered for? It saddened me to think about, really, but I wanted to be known for something I did, not the person I was. I was more than just the girl who could see ghosts. I don't think people realized that.

As I watched the island fade from view and the others kept rowing, I wondered how long I had left before I too disappeared. Nothing could last forever, not even memories. One day, the house would be long forgotten, along with all the children who once called it home. I, too, would be forgotten. A tear slipped down my cheek, but someone wiped it away. I looked away from the house - or where it had been, at least - to see Millard, who had switched with Fiona once more. His eyes were worried, his smile was sad. I took his hand and squeezed it, silently letting him know that I would be okay. We would all be okay.