Inside the small cabin bathroom, the warm water cascaded down from the showerhead in a steady, gentle stream.
B stood under the spray, letting the water rinse away the dust and fatigue of the day. She reached for a small bottle of soap sitting on the corner ledge, squeezing a generous dollop into her palm, and began to lather her floor-length snow-white hair.
During her trip to the village, she had carried her long hair in her arms as much as possible, but between catching the bridal bouquet, crouching on the cobblestones to gather dropped apples, and being fussed over by the group of mothers, the tips of her white hair had occasionally dragged across the dusty ground.
"So much happened today..." B mumbled in her soft, bell-like voice, closing her void-black pupils as the soap bubbles foamed up.
As the running water washed the white foam down the drain, B's eyes drifted over to the corner of the small bathroom.
Lying in a small heap near the sink were her two dirty pale white dresses and two sets of black shorts, one from yesterday's leaf-sweeping work, and the other from today's apple-picking adventure. Both dresses were visibly stained with dirt spots and brown dust along the bottom hems.
B wiped the water from her face, staring at the pile of dirty laundry.
'If I leave those there, they're going to start smelling bad,' B thought, her lazy brain doing a quick risk calculation. 'And if I let dirt sit on white fabric for too long, it'll never come out. Then I'll have to buy more clothes, which costs Vicks.'
Spending money on laundry was acceptable; losing money because of ruined clothes was unacceptable.
B turned off the shower, dried her frail body with a clean towel, and stepped over to the plastic door. She opened the door just enough to reach out her arm into the main room, grabbing the wooden bucket she had used earlier that morning to scrub moss off the stone graves.
She brought the wooden bucket into the bathroom, filled it with warm water from the tub tap, and added a splash of liquid cleaning soap.
She dumped the two dirty white dresses and the black shorts straight into the soapy water. Using her small hands, she began to knead, press, and scrub the wet fabric against the sides of the bucket.
Splish.
Splash.
Splish.
It took her about ten minutes of repetitive squeezing to get all the dirt stains out of the pale cloth. Once the water turned clear and the white dresses looked completely bright and clean again, B wrung out as much water as her small arms could manage, twisting the wet fabric into thick, heavy ropes until only tiny drops fell from the ends.
"Done," B said with a small, satisfied nod.
She reached for one of her new outfits resting on the dry chair, a soft, muted green dress and a pair of matching black shorts. She slid her arms through the green dress, letting the smooth fabric fall over her shoulders. The color looked lovely against her translucent pale skin and floor-length white hair.
Carrying her wet laundry in the wooden bucket, B unlocked the heavy metal front door and stepped out onto the cabin's porch.
The night air was cold, damp, and thick with a rising white fog that drifted slowly between the dark ironwood trees. High above, heavy black rain clouds covered the sky, blocking out the moon and stars completely.
B paid no attention to the creepy mist. She walked over to the wooden porch railing and carefully spread her two clean white dresses and black shorts over the smooth top bar, letting them hang flat to dry.
As she stepped back, a tiny drop of cold water hit her pale nose.
Drip.
B looked up at the dark, thunderous sky. The heavy clouds looked like they were ready to burst open with a massive downpour at any second.
She looked back at her wet hanging laundry, then up at the rain clouds again.
She gave a small, lazy shrug of her shoulders.
"If it rains, it just gets an extra wash," B reasoned casually to the empty night. "Saves me from rinsing it again. Rain water is clean anyway."
She didn't care in the slightest if her clothes smelled like wet grass or damp rain tomorrow. That was a problem for 'Future B' to deal with. 'Current B' was far too tired to care.
She turned around, stepped back inside the warm cabin, and shut the heavy metal door, locking the latch tight.
A long, deep yawn stretched across her face.
"Aaahhh..."
Her eyes watered slightly as she rubbed them with her small fists. Between sweeping the graves in the morning, walking to Oakhaven Village, catching a bridal bouquet, picking up dozens of apples, carrying a heavy pie, and visiting the library, her frail fifteen-year-old body had reached its absolute physical limit for the day.
She shuffled across the wooden floor, her long hair dragging softly behind her leather boots, and stopped in front of the table by the window.
The five borrowed library books sat in a neat stack, and right beside them rested the large, fresh apple pie she had received from the sweet old grandmother.
B looked at her shelves stocked with neat rows of canned beans and soups. Ever since she woke up in this world, she hadn't touched a single can of food. Between the candied bananas, vanilla cream buns, chocolate cookies, strawberry candies, baked potatoes, and lemon lollipops, she had been continuously fed by the generous villagers.
Her stomach was mostly full, but as her eyes landed on the glossy, golden-brown crust of the apple pie, her mouth watered.
"I can't just leave a fresh pie alone overnight," B whispered softly. "It'll get cold and sad."
She reached out her hand to unwrap the clear plastic cover. But as her fingers touched the edge, she paused, looking around the cabin room.
There were no metal forks, no plastic spoons, and no butter knives anywhere in the cabin. Her mysterious boss had provided canned food, bottled water, a couch, and a broom, but had completely forgotten to pack basic eating utensils.
B stared at the sweet apple pie for three long seconds.
Her adult soul from her previous life felt a tiny, brief wave of hesitation about eating a pie with her bare hands like a messy wild child. But that hesitation vanished into thin air almost instantly.
'I'm fifteen years old now,' B rationalized with total, unbothered sloth. 'And I live alone in a graveyard. Nobody is watching me. Etiquette is for the library.'
She reached her small pale hand straight into the pie, scooping out a generous, thick chunk of golden baked apples, sweet cinnamon filling, and flaky buttery crust with her bare fingers.
Nom.
She stuffed the blob of sweet pie directly into her mouth, her pale cheeks puffing out as she chewed happily. The rich flavor of baked apples and warm cinnamon exploded on her tongue.
"Mmmph..." B let out a soft, satisfied hum, chewing like a content little animal.
She took three more small hand-scoops, devouring about one-fourth of the entire pie in less than two minutes until her belly felt completely, pleasantly stuffed.
Satisfied, B licked the sweet apple filling off her fingers, walked over to the bathroom sink to wash her small hands clean under the running tap, and walked back to the table. She pulled the clear plastic cover back over the remaining three-fourths of the pie, securing it tight for tomorrow's breakfast.
She looked down at her stack of five library books, including Ghosts and Geology and The Flesh Bender Attends the Academy. (yes this is shameless author self advertising :3)
Her original plan had been to stay up late reading on her couch, but her heavy eyelids were already fluttering low. Reading words required brain power, and her brain was officially shutting down for the night.
"Books can wait until tomorrow..." B mumbled lazily.
She shuffled over to her prized brown couch, kicked off her dark leather boots, and let her long white hair spill over the plush cushions. She climbed onto the sofa, pulled the soft, warm blanket all the way up to her chin, and snuggled her pale face deep into the soft pillow.
Her breathing slowed down almost instantly, turning into tiny, steady rhythms.
"Goodnight..." she whispered into the dark, quiet room.
Within ten seconds, the tiny white-haired grave keeper was fast asleep, drifting off into a deep, peaceful slumber.
Zzzzz...
....
High up in the stormy night sky, fifteen miles west of Blackwood Cemetery...
THU-THU-THU-THU-THU-THU!
The heavy, roaring thunder of spinning helicopter blades tore through the dark clouds as a massive, dark green military transport helicopter cut through the rain-heavy air at maximum speed.
Inside the dimly lit troop cabin, eight heavily armed Exorcists sat in two neat rows, holding their weapons tightly between their knees.
These were not local intelligence officers like Reed or Martha. These were elite field operators from the Aegis Sanctorum Vanguard Division, trained exorcist warriors built for heavy supernatural warfare.
Every single soldier was decked out in black tactical armor lined with silver protective runes. In their hands, they held high-caliber rifles loaded with silver bullets infused with holy water, heavy iron batons drenched in blessed oils, and large, cross-shaped broadswords strapped to their backs that glowed with faint blue protective light.
At the front of the troop cabin, the Vanguard Commander checked his wrist-mounted radar screen, his face grim under his tactical helmet.
"Listen up!" the Commander barked over the loud roar of the engine. "Sensors confirm the Rank 4 Dread Class entity has breached the outer perimeter of Oakhaven territory! It is moving at speeds exceeding two hundred kilometers per hour!"
A squad member looked up, adjusting the strap on his holy rifle. "Commander! What is its exact target?"
"Site-07... Blackwood Cemetery!" the Commander shouted back, pointing at the flashing red dot on his radar screen. "The entity is a grief-born mother spirit, fused with high-density malice! If that thing touches the soil of Blackwood Cemetery and absorbs the ancient ghost energy stored beneath those graves, it will trigger an immediate Calamity Class eruption!"
"What's our ETA?" another soldier asked, gripping his cross-shaped sword.
The Commander looked at the GPS timer, his brow furrowing in frustration.
"At current helicopter speeds, we are still four minutes behind the target!" the Commander grumbled sharply. "We are going to be late! The entity will reach the center of Blackwood Cemetery before we can drop down to deploy our containment barrier!"
The soldiers exchanged tense, nervous glances. Being four minutes late meant the Rank 4 monster would have four full minutes to feed on the ancient graveyard's dark power, growing into an unstoppable world-ending beast before they even set foot on the ground.
"Prepare for combat drop the second we cross the cemetery tree line!" the Commander bellowed, clicking his rifle's safety off. "May heaven have mercy on anyone currently inside those grounds!"
THU-THU-THU-THU-THU-THU!
The dark helicopter roared forward through the storm, racing frantically against time to stop the approaching nightmare.
And deep inside the foggy graveyard below, inside her dark, quiet cabin, B turned over onto her side on her plush couch, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders as she snored softly into the night.
Author's Note
EliteToeCollector
Thanks for reading!