Calling Back the Dead

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“I don’t want to go,” Ethel begged, grabbing at her mother’s dress. Her mother pursed her lips and pried Ethel’s hands away.

“You’ve no choice, young lady. Now take your filthy hands from my skirt.”

Ethel’s father pulled her away from her mother and squatted to face her.

“It will be okay, Ethel. This is just for a little while. They’ll get you sorted, and you’ll be home in no time at all.”

Ethel looked at the towering buildings in the distance, the huge brick structures topped with pointed spires like something from a fairy story, but not a good one. This was an evil castle where a wicked witch lived.

“Please, Father,” she whispered, squeezing his hands until it hurt.

He stood and kissed her head, turning her toward the door. He nudged her forward, and she wanted to break away, run for the woods. If she escaped, they’d have to look for her, and then they’d be even angrier. Maybe they’d leave her at the hospital forever.

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