It was a dusty street, one that called for lost generations which had once trod upon its broad asphalt surface. The stores surrounding it were wooden, small and rundown. It was if they had been put together by a child with nothing more than toothpicks and glue. The hot sun glared at anyone so foolhardy to breach its territory. Small trees withered at its touch. The air was chokingly humid, and clung to the face and throat like a possessive child.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. His shoulders were hunched over as he walked, his eyes cast to the ground. His lips were parched and crackled as he ran his tongue over their dry surface. His blue shirt was stained in places, with mud and sweat, and their was a tear down the dirty leg of his dirty blue jeans.

Water. That's all I need. God, what a rough day. Wish I didn't have to work out in this sun. Will this heat wave ever let up? he thought dejectedly. The water fountain drew into view, and his thirst deepened. His throat felt on fire! He could wait no longer. He tore off the sweat soaked shirt, and ran towards the relief, feeling the sun tear at his back, ready to burn him.

"Aaaaah!" he breathed. He splashed the cold water in his burning mouth, and put his head under its cool splash. The water ran in rivulets down his face and neck, and soothed his hot back. He stood up slightly away from the fountain and shook his black hair. Tiny droplets of water flew in all directions.

"Hey! Watch it!" He turned, startled at the interruption. There in front of him stood a young girl. She looked about fifteen, and wore a light gauzy dress which looked quite uncomfortable to him amid the dust and dirt of the street. He blushed, for she looked quite annoyed at being slashed by the water from his hair.

"Sorry. I didn't see you there,"he said quickly. The girl's eyes lit up for just a moment. Indeed the girl had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, for he could not recall hearing someone breathe, or footsteps approaching. "Are you new around here?" He smiled his warmest grin. "Can't recall seeing you around here before." And he'd thought he knew everyone in this town too. Ever since he had come to stay with his aunt and uncle two months ago, he'd been kidnapped through the whirlwind of friends and cousins. The whole experience was nothing like his old life in the city, before his mother had died of cancer. He shook his head. It was a painful memory to think of that life now. Perhaps he had met the girl before, he thought reflectively, and just couldn't place her. No, he decided thoughtfully. I would have remembered her. The girl looked pleased to see him. Her abruptness of the moment before had vanished, and she took a step forward.

"Well, my name's Amelia, and I've lived here too long for words." Her smile wavered a bit as she spoke. She extended her hand, which was as slim and white as any that had never seen the sun.

"Pleased to meet you," he responded with a smile. "I'm Andy. I just moved here from Chicago. I'm living with my aunt and uncle. They're the Barnards."

"I know," she said, and smiled mysteriously. He found himself being drawn into her eyes. They were blue with flecks of purple and green. He broke away from her gaze, and to his embarrassment, found he was clutching her hand. Blushing, he dropped the smooth palm from his own. She was intriguing, he thought with wonder, and he made a mental note to ask his aunt if she knew an Amelia.

"So how old are you? I'm eighteen," he asked casually.

"Ladies never reveal their true age, Andy," she responded with a grin,"It's rather impolite to ask."

"Sorry," he said, returning the smile. He made an exaggerated bow. "It's awfully hot out here . . . why don't we go inside and talk?" He pointed at one of the dilapidated old buildings. The sign above it stated proudly, "Barnards General Store." He smiled again and cocked his head toward the building. "It's air conditioned at least."

Amelia looked around, suddenly distracted and looking distressed "Hot? Oh! I have to go!"

"Go? Go where?" he asked curiously. The girl had made a mark on him for some reason. Plus she was easy to talk to. It was hard to be new in town after all. To his surprise, she reached out and squeezed his hand.

"I've got to get to the fields. See you later Andy!" she said abruptly.

"Andy! Come in here and finish your work!"

He looked up and away from Amelia to see his uncle, a portly balding man, standing at the door to the store.

"In a minute, Uncle Bob!" he called. Turning to where Amelia had stood he looked around, suddenly bewildered. She was gone!

"Andy! This minute!" The voice interrupted his startled thoughts. He put on the sweaty, blue shirt again and started towards his uncle.

I hope I see her again, he thought quickly. I don't even know her last name.

He approached the tired old store that was his uncle's pride and joy.

"Get in here, boy!" his uncle said jovially, his rounded, ruddy cheeks glowing from the effort. "You've been standing there doing nothing for the last ten minutes!" Good naturedly, he slapped Andy on the back.

"I was talking," Andy said swiftly, fighting to control the blush that came to his cheeks when he thought of Amelia. She was pretty.

His uncle looked at him curiously. "Talking? To who? There ain't been nobody outdoors all morning, and besides I was watchin' you, and you were just standing there, staring off into space." He chuckled slightly. "I think the heat stroke must be getting to you, boy. Let's lay off the inventory for awhile. It can wait 'till tomorrow. Why don't we just go on home. I think your Aunt Polly is cookin' us fried chicken for dinner." Uncle Bob began to gather up his things, smiling all the while.

Andy looked at his uncle in amazement. "Didn't you see her Uncle Bob?" he asked incredulously. After all, they'd been right in front of the store in broad daylight.

"What?" His uncle looked up, distracted. "No Andy. Now quit foolin' around with my head and let's go home."

Andy couldn't believe it. Had his uncle actually not seen him talking to Amelia? A cold shiver ran down his spine. It had been a little eerie the way she had appeared and disappeared right in front of his eyes. He shook the thoughts from his head. He was acting crazy. His uncle probably hadn't seen them because he was inside doing work.

She's just a normal girl, he thought.

But other thoughts in his brain kept nagging him. He came outside while she was there. Why didn't he see her?

"I'll have to ask Aunt Polly if she knows an Amelia," he said under his breath. Suddenly he didn't feel hot at all, even with the raging sun, and goosebumps jumped out on his arm and he shivered.

Finally his uncle was done with packing up the inventory, and they walked slowly outside towards the beat up Ford truck. The door stuck when he tried to pull it open and he had to use all the strength in his tired muscles to get it to budge. The fake leather seats crackled beneath his weight, and the car felt like an oven which had been baking for an hour.

He felt like he was gasping for breath, the air was so thick with heat. The putrid smell of sweat filled his nostrils until he felt like choking. He leaned his head out the window but it provided no relief. His uncle got in beside him and the car settled with the additional weight. The car sputtered and coughed, then growled into life. They pulled into the tired street, bumping and jolting as it moved along. His uncle began whistling cheerfully.

Andy looked out the window. They were passing the cornfields now, and the corn whistled and swayed with the blast of hot wind.

"Corn's going to die without some relief from this heat," his uncle remarked casually.

"Yeah," Andy replied. Then suddenly he glanced at the corn again. He tried to focus his gaze upon the little ripple he had just noticed. A shape came into view, a little figure. He gasped as he recognized the familiar flowing dress, the shocking mane of blond hair. It was Amelia! She waved as she stood a little bit away from the road, a wistful smile decorating her features. He tore his gaze away with an effort, and grabbed his uncle's arm.

"Uncle Bob! Look over there! That's the girl I was talking to!" He pointed excitedly in the direction where Amelia stood.

"Andy?" His uncle glanced at him, his face showing traces of concern. "Are you feelin' all right boy?"

"Yes!" he cried impatiently, his finger still pointing. "Can't you see her?" He looked again at Amelia. She was shaking her head sadly, as they drove farther and farther away from where she stood. Then as quickly as she'd come, she disappeared into the corn.

"I ain't seen nobody, Andy," his uncle said softly.

Andy lowered his arm. Curiosity claimed his every emotion.

"Uh . . . never mind, Uncle Bob. It was probably just the heat playing tricks on me again." Somehow he knew he shouldn't mention Amelia to his uncle again. But why couldn't he see her when she was in plain view?

I don't understand this, he thought in confusion. Why is that girl so strange?

Finally they reached the small but homey looking house where the family lived. It had been freshly repainted off-white last weekend and still smelled faintly of enamel. The yard was brown and dry with scattered leaves and grass. The truck came to an abrupt halt in the dusty dirt driveway. Andy got out of the truck and made his way to the front porch. The screen door stood partly ajar. Inside the smell and the warmth of the kitchen radiated and heated his face. The hallway was dark and warm, and he heard his uncle come tramping behind him as he turned into his room.

"Amelia," he said slowly, tasting the sound of her name upon his lips. He blinked with exhaustion. "I need to sleep for awhile." He peeled off his shirt and tossed it into the hamper, and then the blue jeans which he put in a pile for Aunt Polly to mend. He yawned and stretched as he walked to the adjoining bathroom. He washed himself free of the grime and dust and yawned again. He lay down in the bed and shut his eyes.

His eyes flew open. He was lying in a field of corn. It was fall, and the crop was ready to be harvested. He did not wonder at where he was. On his right was a large farmhouse. There in the doorway stood a young girl. He felt as though he had met her before, but he couldn't place her face. She motioned to him to come with a sad expression but suddenly he didn't want to. He tried to run away from her.

"Andy! Noooooo!" Her voice echoed painfully in his skull, pounding, pushing, pressing. His hands flew to his head and he turned around.

"What! What do you want with me!" Suddenly he was inside the house. The girl stood beside him and clutched his hand. What was it about the way she held his hand? She led him to a small room.

"My bedroom," she said softly. "The place I lived, the place I live no more." Strangely he was not surprised at what she said. Great black claws of fear were climbing the walls. Blood was seeping under the doorway. He shivered, but the girl appeared not to notice.

"What is your name?" He asked warily. He felt as though he should know it already.

"You know . . . I used to believe in good and evil," she said in the same soft voice, appearing not to hear his question. "That was until I came to this place. It is the place of no life, the place in between."

Her long flowing white dress was getting wet with the blood and the black which seeped in through the hallway. She touched his pounding head, and the pain subsided.

"You will not remember, but you will know." The house vanished, and the field was a whirlwind of colors, and a face, her face, flashed before his eyes. Suddenly all was clear.

"Amelia!"

His eyes flew open. Beads of sweat decorated his face and he shook the clouds from his head. What was it he'd been dreaming about? There was a girl...

He shook his head. He couldn't remember.

"Andy! Come to supper, Honey!" The sweet voice of his aunt interrupted his thoughts. The bed creaked as he sat up.

"I'm coming Aunt Polly!" he called through the closed door. He stood up and stretched, his muscles protesting against the movement.

"You will not remember, but you will know." The thought invaded his brain. Remember what? Know what? He opened the door.

"God my head hurts," he remarked against the throbbing which had entered his brain. He touched his temples lightly and walked down the hallway towards the brightly lit kitchen. His eyes squinted against the fluorescent light. He could smell the chicken on the table, but he didn't feel hungry. He sat down on the calico covered chairs and watched as the plate was placed in front of him. His head would not stop! The faces of his aunt and uncle eased in and out of focus.

"Eat, Honey," he heard the blur on his right say.

"Not hungry," he whispered slowly. It was so hot and his head hurt so badly. He just wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep. It was so hot he could not stand it! His eyes half shut, and he breathed in the stifling heat with an effort. A face came to rest in the back of his eyelids. A light, flowing dress, blond hair streaming down her back. She wore an expression of concern.

"Wake up Andy! You need to stay awake! He's trying to make you go to sleep, Andy!" Her voice pleaded in his brain. His eyes opened and he stared at the untouched plate of food in front of him. His aunt and uncle were eating away like any normal day. He took a bite of food and chewed the tasteless matter that was usually so good.

"Aunt Polly?" he asked quickly before he lost his nerve. "Do you um . . . know a girl named Amelia?" His aunt turned to him inquisitively. Her eyes were sad.

"Don't pester your aunt, boy," his uncle said gruffly.

"It's no bother Bob. I . . . I knew a girl named Amelia, along time ago. Lord, maybe thirty years ago."

"Tell me about her," Andy said quickly.

"Just don't ask me why," he thought to himself. His fingers drummed the tabletop.

"Well..." his aunt began. "she was a pretty little thing, blond hair, always had a smile on her face. "Most everyone got along with her and her daddy. They owned the cornfields outside of town."

"All of them?" Andy gasped. The fields stretched for miles all along the road, and except for one patch towards the middle of them the land was rich and fertile.

Or at least it was before this heat, Andy thought to himself.

"All of them. So of course they had some money," his aunt replied.

"So what happened to her?" Andy asked impatiently.

"Andy . . . has anyone been filling your head with stories about this girl?" His aunt looked at him directly.

"No. . . um . . . what do you mean?" he answered slowly, the words dry in his mouth.

"I mean stories, like about the ghosts of Amelia and her uncle wandering about the corn field, shaking their bones."

"No Aunt Polly. I've just been curious about some of the town's history. . . and its inhabitants." Andy gasped for air. He was trembling beneath his clothes. "Why . . . what happened?"

"I'll get to it honey. I just don't want you to believe all that nonsense, that won't let the poor girl rest in her grave."

Andy nodded slowly. Images bounced off his brain. He tried to recall every detail of Amelia's face, but he couldn't see it at all.

"Well anyway, as I was saying nearly everyone got along with Amelia, and everyone knew how much she loved her father." She paused for breath and lowered her eyes. "Well anyway, when Amelia was about fourteen tragedy struck her home. Her father had a heart attack and died. Amelia was sent away for a few months to stay with some relatives. I can't suppose she was very happy there. She must have missed her father terribly. While she was gone her uncle came to live on the site. The property and the money were Amelia's held in trust until Amelia was eighteen. He soon sent for her, and she came back to town.

"How did she die?" Andy asked eagerly. He leaned his face toward his aunt's, and placed his elbows on the table.

"Elbows off the table young man," his aunt commanded sternly. Meekly Andy complied. "I was getting to that if you'll stop interrupting."

"Humph," his uncle grunted, and his aunt gave him a baleful glare.

"As I was saying. His uncle came to live with her and supervise the property. I guess they really didn't get along. And she had changed. She was a lot more withdrawn than before, barely talked to anyone. I'd see her sometimes in those corn fields that she now owned.

"When she didn't come to school we thought she was just depressed. It wasn't until later that we found out a fire had started in Amelia's bedroom -- and both she and her uncle had been caught in it and killed. They said it was arson and there was an investigation. The property would have reverted back to her uncle had he not died too, so he was the primary suspect. But no one was ever able to prove anything. Anyway, the property was split up and sold to the people who own it today."

Andy nodded in understanding. "Thanks for telling me about it, Aunt Polly. May I be excused? I'd like to take a walk."

"Sure honey. You're a good boy. You do my sister credit." She smiled and began to finish her dinner.

"Don't be out too late boy. We got inventory in the morning," his uncle commanded.

Andy groaned involuntarily at the thought. The he got up from the table, dropped his dishes in the sink and walked through the dark hallway towards the front door. He opened the door and looked out at the starry night sky. The stars hung like lanterns, and he breathed in the cool night air.

"I think I understand," he said softly. He walked down the dusty dirt driveway and headed in the direction of the corn fields. The road was long and black and shivered under his feet, gravel scratching at each step. The moon hung luminous in the sky like a great unblinking eye watching the night's events.

He swung his arms slowly and peacefully. He could almost hear Amelia's voice leading him in the right direction. His steps were slow and sure and he didn't watch where he placed his feet -- unconcerned about slipping. He entered the corn fields and did not blink as the small figure approached him.

"Hello again," he said softly, as she fell into step beside him.

"Hello, Andy," Amelia said. "Do you know?" Her eyes were dark in the moonlight and she took his hand. Her fingers were cold against him and he was surprised momentarily at their weight against his skin.

"I . . . I think so," he said looking at her. Her face was sad and pale, and at that moment he wished he could see her smile. As if she sensed his thoughts, she broke from his grasp and walked a step ahead of him.

"Follow me, Andy. Help me escape from this cruel world," she whispered.

He looked up and to his amazement saw a house. It was a house he knew, though he knew he had never set eyes on it. She took his hand again and pulled him toward the open front door. He tried to break from her grasp, his fear growing and consuming his body. His eyes grew wide as he stared at the wood on the front of the house. It was then that he recognized it. It was the house from his dream! At once he remembered the dream, the pure evil that house contained and he pushed Amelia away.

"Not yet," he said hoarsely. They stood beside the open front door. "First I have to know the truth about you. Why are you here?"

She backed away from him, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

"Come with me," she said softly. They walked away from the grinning windows of the house and into the swaying corn. Slowly she walked away from him. Her eyes were bright with tears, shining like the full moon. As she moved from him she grew translucent before his very eyes. She was like a shadow, ready to be stolen by the night air. She lay down slowly, white cheek resting against the black earth. "There is so much you can not know. There is so much you would not understand." She pointed at the house. "For years I couldn't understand how it came to this. I was angry. There was so much hate in my heart. That hate, instead of setting me free, chained me to this mortal world.

Andy nodded slowly. Amelia continued. "I was murdered by my uncle because of the wealth that was my inheritance. But things did not work out as he planned. He died in the fire with me. Now he holds me to this earth in spirit because of the anger we felt towards each other. That anger is like a chain link which keeps us both locked here.

She turned toward him. "You see, Andy, it is anger which keeps me trapped. It is anger and confusion that holds me here." She held her hands out in a supplicating gesture. "You've got to help me Andy. Most can't even see my spirit. It's a rare few that can touch and talk to me. I was so happy when you saw me there by the water fountain." She looked down.

Andy breathed in slowly. A heaviness was growing all around him. "I want to help you, Amelia. But I don't even know what to do. It's not like I've ever had an experience like this before." He paced in a small circle, trodding down a few corn plants.

"Well first of all, we need to get in that house," Amelia said with determination. "There is a porthole there somewhere to the next world. The danger is my uncle is in there and if we do manage to get to the porthole you could be sucked in with me." She began advancing through the rows of corn. Andy looked at his watch as he began to follow her.

9:53

He bit his lip and looked at the starry night sky once more. His palms were sweaty. Thoughts darted in his brain.

What am I doing here holding hands with a ghost? What is going to happen? Will I be able to do this?

Sweat broke out on his forehead as they once again neared the house.

"He's in there now," Andy said slowly, letting the words fall from his tongue into the now silent corn fields.

"I know," Amelia said. Her face was strained. "Whatever you do, don't let go of my hand."

"Why?" he said with concern.

"He is going to try and make you sleep, like at the dinner table tonight. It took all of my strength to pull you from him that time. He knows about you, you know. Ever since we started talking by the fountain he knew you were the one that could help me. Fire is his weapon, and he uses it to his advantage."

"The heat wave . . ." he remarked.

"Some of it was his doing, but he can not control all of nature."

They stepped onto the front porch of the house. "Don't talk now." Amelia's hand grew hot against his. The approached the front door. He watched with horrified fascination as a leering, burned, black face grinned at him from the front window. He glanced at Amelia. His teeth were chattering despite the heat radiating from Amelia's body. She was sweating visibly. They entered the house. He felt numb, distant from the scene which lay in front of him. Fire was everywhere, the red, wooden furniture melting against the heat. It was a broad front hall which had once been graced with mahogany and elegant pictures and now was a burning mass of charred wood. They advanced forward and stared at the imposing black-robed figure which stood in their path. The face cracked into a smile of pure malice. The figure's teeth were bared, their whiteness contrasting with the black in that evil face. The figure held a hand in the air.

"Come and sit for a while, Andy."

The mocking voice resounded in his ears. He felt the pressure of Amelia's hand and felt constrained. He tried to squirm away from her. Her eyes were luminous with fear.

"No, Andy! You can't let go of my hand! He'll burn you alive and I'll be trapped here forever!"

He looked at her strangely. He felt as though he should be floating high above, away from the awful stench of evil in this place. He couldn't get a grasp on reality. He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion from his mind.

"He's playing with us, Andy," Amelia whispered in his ear. "We must get to the porthole. If it is opened, he will be forced to join his companions of evil in hell."

"Yes," he whispered, dry mouthed. He blinked his eyes to rid them of the heaviness that descended on them. The leering smile stayed on the backs of his eyelids.

"Do you really think I will let you pass, girl? The mocking voice announced. The black-robed figure of Amelia's uncle laughed loudly. Amelia shrank visibly at the voice. Andy felt anger bubble up in his blood. How dare this evil spirit hold them hostage here, unable to do anything? He broke from her uncle's gaze, and picked up Amelia in his arms.

"Even if I have to carry you, we'll get away from him!" he shouted. "I won't let him hurt you anymore!"

Amelia looked at him stunned, hope lighting her pale features. Suddenly, he felt an immense peace running through him. As he stared at the figure before him a new emotion began to stir. It was pity. Amelia looked at him and smiled. His heart raced to his mouth. When he looked into her eyes he could feel love flowing between them.

"Don't let go of my hand!" she cried as he began to run. He ran and the house began to change. He felt the sensation of his pity reach out to physically crush the figure of his hate. It was like his hands could reach the evil and quench it by the emotion ebbing through his veins. Then to his amazement, he felt a queer sensation running through him. He felt indescribably cold. His hands were shaking and quivering, and goosebumps lined his skin. He watched in horror as ice began to spread from his fingers, feet, skin. It circled around him and quenched the fires which had blazed beside him. He watched with satisfaction as the black figure began to shrink away from the ice which now spread all around him. He looked at Amelia who held his hands tightly. She wore a look of pure concentration. As he ran, the ice surrounded the room. The fires slowly began to die. He ran towards the black figure, and it fell, frozen, beneath his feet. Colors flashed in front of his eyes, blue, purple, red, yellow. He ran blinded by their brilliance. He tripped and grabbed at Amelia. He was falling, falling, falling . . . and he had lost her hand . . .

"Nooooooooo!"

All was black.

It felt like hours later when he awoke. Where was he? Where was Amelia? His vision cleared suddenly and he saw the small white figure cradling his hand.

He was lying in the corn field, Amelia by his side. It was silent and still. He felt cool air ruffle his cheeks and realized they were wet with tears. She looked at him, a smile of peace and gratitude on her face. She leaned over and hugged him, and whispered in his ear.

"Thank you Andy. We've found the porthole." She pointed at a thin beam of white light. "What was wronged has been righted. I won't forget this, Andy." He smiled at her broadly as he led her toward the light.

"Go on now," he said softly. "Maybe I'll see you again." It was almost a question. He looked at her hopefully.

"In the next lifetime, Andy. I'll be watching you, so don't forget about me!" She smiled fiercely, though tears were running down her face.

A figure emerged from the light, an older gentleman. A smile of recognition lit Amelia's features.

"Daddy!" she cried as she let go of Andy and ran into her father's arms. They were bathed in the white light as it spiraled upwards into the sky and exploded into tiny dust motes. He stood in the field listening to the silence which surrounded him and examined the feel of the cool air in the dark until he turned back towards his uncle and aunt's home. As he turned he thought he caught the glimpse of Amelia's smile in the rain that began to fall softly in the corn.

The End