“Then darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far on roads that I will not tell.”
Amber had been missing for sixteen years; she was legally dead for fifteen of them. She disappeared just before opening night of her high school’s production of Into the Woods. The show was summarily canceled, because she’d been cast as the Witch and nobody could rap about vegetables as well as Amber.
The night before had been dress rehearsal; all the students were held until late in the night. When rehearsal wrapped up, students had to entirely get out of costume and make-up before they could leave. As the witch, Amber had a prosthetic chin and tons of make-up warts, so it took her a long time to remove. She was presumably the last person in the building. When the teacher locked up, they reported having seen nobody. For days, they worried she’d gotten lost somewhere backstage, where the darkness was so thick that no spotlight could penetrate it. But her body never showed up, and no one ever found a girl matching her description.
When Amber’s class reached senior year, they decided their senior gift to the school would be a garden. They planted all kinds of flowers, but it was mostly greens (parsley, peppers, cabbages, and celery). They built a fence around it, and painted it with fairy-tale characters. A witch with Amber’s likeness adorned the gate. They called it Amber’s Garden, and Amber’s parents donated yearly to maintain it.
But sixteen years after Amber disappeared, she came back. One hour after midnight, Amber’s parents heard something tapping on their glass door to the backyard. Baseball bat and rifle in hand, Mrs. and Mr. Lugozza crept down the stairs. When they saw the image of their daughter staring back at them, they screamed.
They dropped their weapons and ran to hold her. She was sobbing, apologizing, holding on to her parents for dear life. They rushed her onto the couch and covered her in blankets and put on a pot of tea. When they brought her into the light and finally got a good look at her, they realized she had not aged a single day. Amber was still fifteen years old, traces of stage make-up still smudged around her eyes.
That night Amber could barely speak. She slept in bed with her parents, who held her tight and felt her shaking and sobbing. None of them slept. The next morning after breakfast, they gently asked Amber to explain what happened. She blinked, confused. After chewing and swallowing a mouthful of pancake, she said, “I think rehearsal went well. We should have a really good opening night tonight.”
Amber’s parents watched their daughter finish her pancakes and go back up to her room to get ready for school, like she had always done. When the phone rang, they both stared at each other, willing the other one to pick it up. Mrs. Lugozza was the one who caved.
“Hello?”
“Nancy?” came the voice on the other line. It was her friend, Mrs. Stella, who taught at the high school. “Nancy, I’m sorry you have to hear it from me. Last night there was a fire at the school, around midnight or so. Nobody got hurt, but it’s–Nancy, it’s Amber’s Garden. It looks like someone tried to start a fire there. Nancy? Can you hear me? …Nancy?”
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