My name is Chau, and they say I'm a ghost.



I'm too pale, sheet white like a corpse, the pink tinge around my eyes and lips the only sign that I'm not supposed to be six feet under. I'm spectral, as if talking to the spirits too much turned me into one too.

If people get close enough, they'll see that my squinty eyes are not the typical jet black. Instead, they are pink, like the redeye in bad photographs.


I live in the Haunted Woods, where my appearance serves me well. Even the real ghosts say I put on a great show.




Real ghosts, you ask?




Well, that's a whole different story on its own.
That tale didn't start here, though. It began at a slightly higher, colder altitude.
It was my eighth year, and my first Festival of the Frost Mote.



The all-night celebration was the highlight of every year, and I was finally old enough to come along.


Me and my family walked up the steep slopes of South Terror Mountain, following the snowy trail that a hundred feet had already stamped flat. Below us, the lights of our village twinkled in the last glow of dusk.

 "We're coming home at eleven, right?" I chirped nonchalantly to my mom. She walked slightly ahead of us, her powder-blue body blending in with the evening shadows.

 "Dear, you know I said ten 'o clock." she replied without turning around. "And that's final."

I sighed. Mom was too sharp to fall for my trickery. But I would have agreed to go for just five minutes if it meant I didn't have to stay cooped up with the little kids at my aunt's stuffy old house while the adults went and had fun. Three hours was just fine for me.

My older sister Tal, though, wasn't so keen on this. "But mo-om!" she cried. "Dad said I could stay for the sparring! That starts at 11!"

 "What?" Mom said, turning around to look at Dad. "Dorian, I thought I said..."

Dad cut her off. "Hey, it's not a problem. Chau can go home with the Lestins at 10, can't she? Tal's a big girl; she can afford to miss a few hours of sleep. This festival only comes once a year, you know!" He smiled his classic charming grin, and Tal clung to his coat sleeve, looking hopeful.

Mom frowned. She looked upset. "That's not the issue, Dorian--I thought we agreed that we were going to do this festival together. I wish you would tell me when you decide to back out on--"

I tugged on the hem of Mom's cloak before she could work herself up into an argument. "It's okay, Mom, I don't care. I can go home early." I said. I didn't want them fighting, not when we were supposed to be having fun.

Mom looked like she wanted to press the issue, but instead she let out a defeated sigh as she spun around as if to banish Dad from her sight. Tal pumped her fist in the air and high-fived Dad behind Mom's back. I frowned and sped up a few steps to keep pace with Mom as she set off along the path again. This kind of thing always happened. Hopefully she would forget about it after we got to the festival.





We trudged along, following the winding trail. A few other families appeared here and there, everyone converging onto the main pathway. "Hey, Chau!" Tal yelled behind me. "You're still sissying out on the sparring, right? Are you going to enter ice skating or something?"

I let out a sigh. "Yes, I want to enter the ice skating competitions." I was not a sissy for avoiding Tal and Dad's training sessions. I just didn't enjoy beating people to hash like they did.

 "I bet you'd do really well in the competitions, just 'cause you're a Chi--oh, hey! There's the gate!" she cried. I glanced up, grateful that she was distracted from needling me, and let out a soft gasp at the sight. There, just visible beyond the bend of the snowy trail ahead, a hundred pinpricks of tiny blue light adorned a huge, arching crescent of ice that marked the festival gate. Beyond it, I could see the crowds already gathered for the festival. Every person held a lantern adorned with a glowing mote, making the clearing look like a piece of the night sky had fallen to earth.

 "Cool, right?" Tal said. She'd moseyed up next to me. As much as I hated to agree with anything she said, she was right. It was incredible.

There were Neopets of all species and colors milling about, but an overabundance of Chias--white Chias, like me and my family. Years ago, a clan of white Chias migrated east of Shenkuu and took up residence deep in these frozen mountain forests. Over time, a series of villages grew around them. Some of the people in the area were non-Chias, but the majority of the residents consisted of the snow-colored and possibly inbred descendants of that original group. It didn't help that our home was so isolated that almost no outsiders immigrated to our area to thin out our distinctive pale shade. In fact, Mom was the first person in two generations to have moved into the village from the outside world.

I spotted our village elder, an ancient Chia who was more gray than white by now, standing by the gate. He handed us our lanterns as we passed through and gave me a kind smile as he ushered me in. I couldn't help grinning as we walked under the colossal tower of ice. Forget being irritated with Tal--we were here! At the festival! And I wasn't cooped up at home!

One of the main attractions of the festival was the simple fact that so many people were gathered together in one place. People from all across the mountain came here and set up stands, selling their wares and sharing stories. I expected Tal and Dad to run off to the sparring as soon as we stepped foot in the place, but we all ended up spending an hour wandering the stands together. There was more food than I ever thought existed; hot rolls and chocolate-covered treats and some strange glowing confections that the vendor--a Hissi who lived near the mountain peaks--swore up and down were perfectly safe to eat. There were also more goods than I'd ever seen before; clothing and paper and magical artifacts and even a booth that specialized in metalworking. I could see mom's eyes gleaming as she inspected all the things she could never get in our isolated little village.

Dad bought me a small, glittering Snowager charm from one of the stands, and we eventually got some spiced apple cider and migrated to the large dining tent set up nearby. Mom wandered off to talk to one of her friends, and Dad pulled my ice skates out of his pack and gave them to me.

 "Stay safe out there, all right, kid?" he said. His voice was uncharacteristically serious.

I scowled. "Dad, it's skating! I couldn't hurt myself if I tried!"

He laughed then, the odd seriousness gone, and ruffled my hair. "All right, then. Come on, Tal, let's go!" he said, and set off towards the sparring rings with Tal following like an excited Puppyblew. That left me, sitting on one of the long wooden benches set up in the dining area, sipping my warm drink. The stuff must've been enchanted; it tasted delicious.

When I finished, I tracked down Mom and told her I was heading off to the lake. Then I set out into the crowd, ice skates in hand.





It wasn't hard to find the ice skating area; there was an enormous lake slightly down the mountain from the main festival area, and the near corner of it was festooned with decorations and filled with happy Neopets.

It was easy enough to sign up. A jolly, rotund Tuskaninny with an enormous megaphone manned the sign-up booth and scheduled me for the 9:00 rounds. There was practice until 8:30, he said, so everyone was free to skate around until the competition started.

The instant I set down my lantern and stepped out onto the frozen lake, I felt myself relax. Skating was one of the things I really enjoyed on this mountain. As a Chia, I was naturally skilled at balance. No other species was as low to the ground as us, except for maybe the Bruces. And even if I slipped and fell, I had lots of natural padding to absorb the sting.

I wove in and out of the other skaters. Some were obviously experienced on the ice. Others, not so much. A group of Kyrii boys slipped and spun off to the side, trying to impress their dates. Here and there, parents inched along, their wobbly but excited children clinging to them for support. Nobody else in my family really enjoyed skating. Tal and Dad only did it as part of their battle regimen (because who knows; maybe they'd have to fight Lupes on ice skates someday!) Mom had the balance of a one-legged Lenny and had trouble getting more than a meter without faceplanting in some way. I didn't mind, though. I preferred skating solo.

I practiced my usual routines, my braids whipping out behind me. Right, left, bank... I curved out, letting the momentum gather in my trailing foot, then kicked it up and flew into a double sal. Two spins, and I touched back down on one skate in a graceful finish. I heard a quiet chorus of ooohs nearby and had to bite down a smug grin. Sure, the long-legged species looked more impressive on the ice, but I was still darn good. If only my braids didn't slap me in the face when I spun. I should have remembered to tie them back.

I gradually drifted away from the other skaters. I was used to practicing in silence, my only company the whistling of wind through the pine needles and the whoosh of the skates. A rather sturdy length of fencing curved in a wide arc across the lake, presumably signaling the edge of the competition area. I slipped through a gap to the blessedly silent ice beyond. I was only practicing, after all. I'd be back soon.

I sighed, letting the motions flow through me. Forward, then backward, then a toe jump and forward again. I was a bird, flying on a frozen sheet of sky. Free.





An unfamiliar sound rose above the sound of my skates and the soft murmur of the crowd. A slight crackling, and a low rumble, as if the lake was yawning after a deep slumber. This lake had stayed frozen year-round since before I was born, and it would be quite the feat if anyone managed to crack its meters-thick shell of ice.

I set off in a backwards figure-eight. I'd just switched feet, when suddenly I sensed someone in my path. I swerved to the side and screeched to a halt. "Ah! I'm sorr-"

My words died in my throat as I turned towards the space I'd narrowly missed skating into. There was nobody there. A shivering nervousness crept up my spine. I could have sworn I'd seen someone out of the corner of my eye. Standing there, stock still, directly in my path.

I set off again, a feeling of unease settling into the pit of my stomach. It must have been because of the crowd. I wasn't used to having other people on my ice. Never mind that at this point, I was nearly at the center of the lake, and any other skaters were hundreds of meters away.


I tried to slide back into my routine, to recapture that dreamlike detachment I'd been floating in just a few moments ago, but a vague nervousness crept up and down my spine like a line of Mootix. I shifted into a waltz jump, and suddenly, there it was again; a figure, just out of clear view, right in my path. I scrambled into an awkward hop to avoid them and spun around, breathing hard. But the ice was empty. Once again, I heard a low rumble echo faintly across the lake.

What was wrong with me? Was I seeing things because I was skating at night? I glanced across the ice, at the now-distant pinpoints of light clustered at the edge of the lake where the rest of the skaters weaved in and out in a merry mass. Maybe I should head closer to the rest of the crowd, I thought.

Then I chided myself. What was I thinking? I was eight years old, for crying out loud. I wasn't afraid of skating at night. And I'd been skating alone almost before I'd learned to walk. I wasn't going to get spooked and come crying to mommy over some imaginary things I'd seen out of the corner of my eye. I'd finish my routine, and I'd darn well enjoy myself doing it.



I set off, mouth set in a thin line. I built up speed, switched feet, cybunny-hopped, tucked into a spin. I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes watching me. I ignored it and moved into my jumps. Another waltz--I could have sworn a shadowy flicker flashed just out of sight. Falling leaf jump, double sal--the lake rumbled ominously, once again. I was sure it was too loud to be my imagination.



I grit my teeth and shot forward, building as much speed as I could. I trailed my foot, feeling the shift of the momentum, and kicked, throwing my whole body into the motion.


And then I was spinning,
twirling through the air like a faerie of the clouds.


It was as if I'd torn myself free of gravity.


The world roared in a cyclone around me; my braids whipped across my face.


My skate struck the ice with a crack like a gunshot.

And then, suddenly, the ice wasn't there, the ground wasn't there, and I plunged into heart-stopping blackness.



I couldn't move. I could only watch, frozen, engulfed in inky water, as the single solitary patch of stars above me wavered and faded away. Standing at the edge of the broken shards of ice--there was no way the ice should have been that thin, anywhere on the lake--a solitary, shadowy figure stood perfectly still, watching me. It made no move to help. I could feel its eyes following me as I sank down, down, to the heart of the lake.

The last star winked away, and I was alone in the darkness.



I could feel my conscious seeping away, dissolving into the blackness around me like a drop of ink dissipating in water. Random scenes flitted across my vision: dad and Tal practicing with Chia Flour, Mom cooking dinner, me and Tal knitting in front of the fire. They flickered into view and then fragmented and sank into the void.




I was falling down, down, impossibly far. Past the bottom of the lake, past the center of the earth...




And then it was if someone had plunged a fishing hook into my chest and yanked hard. I felt myself pulled up, up, impossibly fast. Pieces of my consciousness sloughed off as the force heaved me heavenward, out of the black, into--

























I gasped and choked up foul lake water. The right side of my forehead throbbed and I realized I was freezing. I gazed up, blinking dumbly, my vision even blurrier than usual. A dozen concerned faces stared down at me. Their voices floated over me in a confusing miasma.

 "Can you hear me?"

 "Where's your mom, sweetie?"

 "Hey, isn't this Dorian's kid?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the noise. My breath came in quick gasps and I couldn't seem to slow it down. Someone had wrapped a blanket around me, and I curled up, trying to warm my frozen limbs. Some larger Neopet picked me up and started carrying me who knows where. The crowd followed, chattering noisily. I wished they would just go away...

Suddenly a familiar voice cut through the clamor of the crowd. "Chau? CHAU! I perked up. I knew that voice.

 "D-dad?" It took a few coughs before I could force the words out. His face swam into my vision, and a second later warm, strong arms scooped me up.

I couldn't help it. I started sobbing. I was cold and wet and embarrassed beyond belief--I'd totally ruined our festival night, hadn't I--and my head ached fiercely. I waited for a scathing wisecrack at my expense, or maybe a sarcastic joke--but they never came. Dad just squeezed me tight. I don't think I've ever felt as thankful for my Dad's serious side as I did then.




Eventually, they moved us over next to one of the bonfires near the shore. The doctor came, bandaged my head (apparently I'd hit it when I fell) and told me I shouldn't exert myself for a few days. Someone finally tracked down Mom, and everyone worried and fussed and scolded me until I wanted to sink into the ground and vanish from the embarrassment.

During a lull in the activity, I suddenly remembered the shadowy figure I'd seen. "Dad," I said, "Do... do you know if there was anyone there when I fell through the ice?"

Dad looked over at me and frowned. He was still acting quite solemn. I'd only seen his serious side emerge before when he was on guard duty. Apparently it reared its head when his children needed protection too. "They said it took several minutes for anyone to get out there, you were so far out. Why did you even go past the fence?"

I ignored his question. I'd already answered it a dozen times. "But, when I fell, I remembered seeing someone." I pressed. "They were just standing there, watching, the whole time." It was horrifically creepy in retrospect. But I couldn't deny what I'd seen as clear as day.

 "What?" A note of anger rose in his voice. "Are you sure? Who was it?"

 "I don't know..." I murmured. I leaned back, and peered, past the light of the bonfire, out onto the frozen lake. And then I nearly jumped. The figure was still there. Standing, far, far across the ice, stock still. I shouldn't have even been able to make it out, not with my awful vision, but its outline was unnaturally clear and sharp against the rest of the blurry scenery. It was pale, seeming almost luminescent in the starlight. It was a Bori, looking not much older than I was. He was scruffy, unkempt looking, and...

looking straight at me.

I gave a start and jerked away. Dad noticed my jolt. "What's wrong?"

 "He's still there. He's still standing out there. Look!" I pointed out towards the lake. The Bori's eyes were a deep, bloody red. He stared right at me with a look of terrible anger, as if he were enraged that I had escaped my watery grave.

Dad--and the rest of my family, now--squinted and peered out towards the direction of my outstretched hand. Tal hopped sideways a few feet to see around the bonfire. I shivered. Who was that person?

Then Tal spoke up. "Uh... I don't see anyone."

Mom chimed in as well. "Where is this person, sweetie?"

 "He's right there!" I said. I peeked out once again, and bloodred eyes stared back at me over the ice. "Next to the place that I fell!"

 "Uh, yeah." Tal said. "I can see all the cracks on the ice from here, but I don't see a person. Maybe you hit your head too hard!" She grinned.

 "Shut up!" I cried.

Dad shook his head. "Your sister's right, Chau... there's nobody there."



They said I died for a few minutes, out on the ice. I think a part of me never came back. As if one of my eyes stayed forever submerged in the world of the dead. Because after that day, I could see things that no living being was supposed to see.

The doctor called the softly glowing apparitions a side-product of brain damage, brought on by lack of oxygen in my accident. That is, until I described his twelve-years-deceased wife to him, down to the pink hairpin she wore when she died. It was easy to do; she was floating right behind him, still watching over him after all those years.



After that, the doctor sent me away, and the whole subject became something that was never spoken of.



When I brought it up to my dad, he would tell me to stop acting childish. When I brought it up to my mom, she would suddenly have an important errand to run. When I brought it up to my classmates, they would either laugh in derision, or shy away in fear. Either way, all it got me was whispers behind my back.

Come to think of it, Tal was the only one who took me seriously. But I hated her back then, and would have rather swallowed slugs than confide in her. I wish I'd been more mature.



In the end, I learned it was best to keep to myself about the ghosts that sometimes crossed my path.








What's that? You want to hear more?








Did I ever learn what happened there, on that frozen lake that should never have cracked? The identity of the Bori (a ghost, if you didn't guess) who seemed so filled with rage at the sight of me? Well, yes, and yes. But time is short and tales take a long time. Come back later, and I'll tell you more!