Esmé frowned at the faded crumple of plaid and khaki. She had started the garden bed as usual, charming the tools to dig and till, after all, she was nearly 117, her back wasn’t what it used to be. But she loved the feel of the earth in her fingers, so she made the effort to sit and add the seedlings by hand. that’s when she noticed the faded fabric.
(LISTEN: We all watched that TikTok unfold for 40 days or something and it was SO NOT A BODY booo, hisss, 0 stars. So let me ASSURE YOU – this is a body. Very much a body. But a body in a school uniform is not something anyone wants to find I don’t care how many TikTok views it will get you.)
Putting aside her gardening, she summoned all the power she could in the daylight and pulled the poor thing out of the ground. For good measure she used her sonar (okay its not really sonar – more like REALLY ACCURATE imagination powers) to scan the would-be flower bed for clues. A roundish silver thing, a book, and a
“oh for Hecate’s SAKE” a candle, of course, someone left, a body, a bell, a book, and a candle in her garden.
And she knew exactly who did it too.
(it’s worth mentioning here that Esmé wasn’t upset about the body because, as a witch, she took a more pragmatic approach to corporealness. Body in a School uniform – nope, we don’t like it. But with the bell, book, and candle right there, likely the soul itself was safe. and that was the key feature after all. We find the soul safe and we can get another body. Piece of cake.)
Given the state of things she thought having a dead human teenager in the garden probably wasn’t a good look, so she did one last scan for the important bits, wrapped the poor dear up tight in the hammock (that was another trip to world market wasted) scooped up the BBC (not that one dearie, do pay attention) returned the body to the earth. At least the tomatoes this year would be lovely.
Time to call on the old hag, Esmé sighed. She really hated that witch.
(are you still worried about the boy? I told you he’s fine. I mean, the body is not at all fine, nothing we can do at this stage. But his soul – his soul is fine. He’s in the bell. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s in the bell. I’ve never quite understood how it all works, exactly but he’s got to be in the bell right? This would be SUPER dark if there was just a dead boy in the garden WHOOPSIE end of story)
Silvia opened the door to find Esmé with eyes blazing.
“a BOY?? You put a dead BOY in MY garden???” you better have a backup plan because it clearly took me a bit longer to find him than you were planning and he isn’t going to want his old body back after that I tell you.”
Silvia started to protest, but then smiled razor blades at her old friend.
“He started it”
“of course he did” Esmé sighed. But surely he’s learned his lesson by now?”
Sil ushered her oldest friend into the kitchen, “kettles already on dear, have a seat”
With a slight wave of her bony fingers, the tea things gathered to the table perhaps a bit more haphazardly than intended, but they made it nonetheless.
After a few fruitless phone calls and a few more well-placed swear words, Silvia’s eyes lit up “Wonderful! Yes we have them-” she covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said to Esmé “you have the BBC with you I assume?”
Emsé patted her vintage handbag and nodded.
“yes, whew, you are a life saver, really Gerald.”
(I’m sure you are very invested in how on earth we are getting the poor boy from a bell to a body (and furthermore where did the body come from? What does Gerald do when he’s not at home? Why would Silvia put a dead boy is Esmé’s garden IN THE FIRST PLACE?) and these are absolutely valid questions, but Esmé skipped that part when recounting to me so all I have is her assurance that they boy is alive and well, enjoying the new body, and will never ever ever throw rocks at a cat (or any animal for that matter) ever again.)
Leigh Fisher 