Dynamite

Prologue

I'm sitting in front of an unmarked headstone. A slightly translucent girl sits on top of it and I'm biting my lip, my pen dangling in between my fingers as I stare down at the journal in my lap.

"Wait. So you mean to tell me there were only three of you?" I look up in awe. "That's... there are so many of us now!"

The girl smiles distantly. "Yes. I have many stories of them to tell."

"Wow."

She nods. "Now, tell me, what does it look like now?"

I frown. "Same as ever I guess. The sky is huge and open, and the trees still sing. There's more of us, of course, and everything is so... big."

"Big?" Her eyes are unfocused, like she's trying to see past the trees.

"Yeah."

"It really was... have I told you about Isabelle?" She looks back down at me, head tilted.

I think for a second, then shake my head. "No."

"Well then, let me." She sighs, and it feels too heavy for how young she looks. "It was sometime in summer and she looked quite lost—you know how those trees beckon you away from the path..."

She tells me her story. About a kid named Jamie, and a girl named Isabelle. She speaks softly about Isabelle, and her big eyes are sad. When she speaks of Jamie, a wry smile alights on her thin mouth. And when she talks about the times they spent running across streams and dancing through moss, something sparks in her eyes.

I write it all down, to the letter. Something in me knows that this is a story that means something, that's important. 

She only finishes as the sun starts to set, and as I walk away, she seems so lonely, backlit by the wash of light from the tiring sun.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Early," I call. She nods, and when I turn around once more at the tree line, she's gone.