Part 3: 7 - Untethering
Dani learns she can be more than a ghost
Things That Can’t Be Broken is a novel presented as a live draft, one chapter every week.
Last week: Part 3: 6 - Hideaway • 2008, Lisa seeks out The Storyteller and learns some truth
Part 3 | A Storm Blowing from Paradise
7 - Untethering
Dani Marie Cartwright
Outside of Time
Near the pepper tree or where the crow flies
The fact that you’re reading this means I have done something I need to do to bring the horses back to Allen Haven Ranch. I am communicating. I obviously don’t have hands to write down these words myself.
You may believe I am getting more skills over time. I guess that’s true, but it doesn’t seem that way for me. There is no before and no after for me, no “and then”. It’s more like, because this happens, there’s this. I have a cake and I also eat that cake. Or there is a cat in my lap and there is no cat in my lap. My ice cream melts and it never melts.
I learn. I am bigger. I mean, I take up more space and time. I’m also smaller and stay right here at the moment when I was buried by the pepper tree. I am the same as you remember me, for as long as you remember me this way. Sorry if that doesn’t make sense, but I hope it does, at least a little. I really want you to understand what it’s like.
I am learning that the more I let go of my anger and my need to be seen, the more I can do. I’m not just an angry ghost tied to a pepper tree. I have possibilities. Grammy has always given me good advice. She’s right when she tells me I don’t want to be a ghost.
Sometimes I drum up my anger because groups of teenagers still come around with flashlights. They usually sit in a circle under the pepper tree and try to see me. I don’t want to disappoint them, but it is not as easy to make myself seen now that I know it keeps me from doing other things. Some of them usually do see me. I still like that, but trying to be seen is a bad habit, like eating too many cookies or too much candy.
If I didn’t like being seen so much, I probably would be able to get around easier. And besides that, it causes pain for some people when they see me. They get sad or scared. That’s not really a nice thing to do to people. When I don’t put my energy into making people see me, when I’m not angry or trying to get attention, I have learned I can get away from the tree with a crow sometimes. That’s not a real surprise to you, is it?
Maybe it works with crows because they travel in murders. You can’t hear me or see my face, but I’m laughing. Isn’t that a funny name for a group of birds? Crows were always a little spooky. It turns out, sometimes that’s because of me! Or other spirits like me. It makes sense now, doesn’t it?
When I first noticed I can travel with a crow, it seemed like I was getting places on my own, but I actually just see what the crow sees. I can even ask a crow to show me something, which they will do sometimes if they’re bored. They all have names, by the way. I just can’t pronounce them like they do. One of my friends is called Triple Clack. He’s the one who took me to see the bridge dedication. It’s kinda cool. The bridge, I mean. Horses can cross a bridge easier because of me—and whoever built it, of course.
I saw Mom and Daddy at the bridge dedication. They didn’t see me though. Grandpa Cartwright was there, too. And Barb, and some of my friends from school. They all look a lot different, especially the boys. I see Kiko even though he thinks he’s hiding. Crows see a lot of things people don’t see.
Kiko talks to me when I’m with a crow sometimes. So does Barb, well, one time she did, but I’m not sure she knew I saw her. Mom and Daddy don’t ever visit me at the tree. That’s okay. I miss them, but I’m figuring out how to see them other ways. I will need their help to get the horses back. I have to get the message across somehow. Since the crows are friends and they let me see through them, I think about seeing through my cat, George.
And guess what? It works. It took me a few tries to get good at it. At first, it was just a couple of seconds in living time. I got a glimpse of Mom when George was in the linen closet. I have to psyche myself up, and even then, mostly nothing happens. It only happens when I’m really not trying to be seen as myself. I have to think only of bringing Mom some comfort. But it does work sometimes. When I get it right, George lets me see what he sees, like the crows do. He’s such a nice cat; he has always been a good buddy.
When I was alive, I used to think Mom didn’t like George very much, but that changed after I died. I could see Mom with George. Together, we could make her smile. Sometimes I think she maybe even saw me when I was looking out through George. When he cuddles with Mom he purrs a lot. There is nothing like that purring to make you feel cozy, so it makes her happier. And I like Mom to be happy.
Through George, I saw Mom doing things around the house. She has a pile of papers and she is often on the phone talking to people who are missing someone. She also makes cat toys and scratching posts in bright colors. George and I test them for her. My favorites are these tiny beach balls she sews and fills with something that makes them sound crunchy when George bites down on them. I never appreciated her sewing when I was alive, because it meant she wasn’t paying attention to me, but it’s calming to me now, because it calms her. And I feel the love in it.
George is with Mom and he is also with me. He is sitting in my lap; he and Jelly-dog are always with me. Jelly is waiting for Daddy. I take care of her and throw her ball until Daddy can meet us here. George and Jelly are good company, like they always were. I can’t see Mom when George is here though.
Sometimes there is a horse with me, a big tall bay named Sunshine, or something like that. He tells me things, but he doesn’t speak in words like I do. He’s waiting for a man who is his best friend. It’s like he’s on loan to me. It reminds me of when Prince Ivan borrowed the Horse of Wisdom from the king in the story the storyteller told under the big tree when Daddy and Mom took me to Old Town that one time. The king’s horses were stolen and hidden in the underworld, but Prince Ivan brought them back. That was when I promised I would be like Prince Ivan and make sure there would always be horses.
I worry sometimes about the horses. There is a blurry version of the world in the future where horses are gone, not just from Allen Haven Ranch, but from just about everywhere. I want the horses to come back. It’s important, not just for me, but for a whole lot of people. I will find a way to bring them back to Allen Haven Ranch. I know I can do it. I made a promise. I will keep it. . . somehow.
Daddy is too far from any crow I know, so I can’t go to him, not so far. And I don’t know an animal Daddy knows, not since Jelly is with me. But sometimes I see Daddy when he dreams. Sometimes he will dream of horses at night and see me too. It gives me an idea. Maybe I can get a message to living people through dreams.
So I’m not stuck at the tree anymore, not as long as I don’t get too angry about being dead and not being seen as Dani. There are things I can do if I put my mind to it and use my spirit to do something good. Grammy is proud of me. As long as I’m not doing it all for myself, I think I can help get the horses back. I sure hope so. They all get so blurry.
Next
Part 3 | A Storm Blowing from Paradise
8 - Angels and Elvis
Behind-the-Scenes Extra
I tried writing this chapter all in present-tense, as Dani would experience it, but my beta-reader husband was confused, and with good reason. I don’t want to jar you out of the story by making it too difficult to read, so I edited in some clearer time references.
Staying in character and using age-appropriate words for a nine-year-old girl spirit can be a challenge. It’s also a lot of fun to write. Hopefully it’s fun to read, too!
The image I used for this chapter is inverted from a photo I took last Spring. It’s an alabaster wing carved by Nilo Gioacchini in 1984. I am drawn to feathers and wings and alabaster, and here they are combined. It feels both ethereal and grounded to me. A stone wing.
Feathers and wings have always been part of my personal symbology. And I carved hundreds of pounds of alabaster when I was sculpting. I still have a hundred-pound chunk of Italian blue alabaster collecting cobwebs in the shed. Maybe I’ll carve it between finishing this novel draft and going back in for edits.
You never know what is going to resonate with another person. I hope you enjoyed the words I have fastened down with type on this page as much as I enjoyed placing them here.
The bit about crows is so clever. I never thought of it that way!