Daniel got up and rummaged through the hall closet until he found the box he was looking for and carried it to the kitchen. He looked out the window; the stark gray light of dawn had begun to filter its way through the soupy fog and ash that hung in the air. He flicked on the light, made a pot of coffee, and set to work. The box held his entire train collection, divided into smaller oblong boxes. One by one he opened them, the power box, the metal tracks and train station, the Lionel railcar numbers 1 through 13, given to him by Uncle Koji over the years. He added the latest addition, the new railcar Koji had left for him. Daniel remembered all the hours of happiness the train set had given him. He blessedly felt like that boy again snapping the metal tracks together on the kitchen table and lining up each railcar behind his favorite number 5 engine. He connected the wires to the power box, plugged it in, and pressed the switch.

Nothing happened.

He reconnected the wires and made sure the screws were tight. “Please,” Daniel said aloud, stirring the quiet. “Please.”

Suddenly nothing felt more important to Daniel than the train moving forward. He pressed the switch again. The power box buzzed. The light flickered and then remained green as the train began its wobbly start, click-clacking around the table once before picking up speed.

Ghost Voices

Ghost Voices

MARIKO, 1914

I light the kerosene lantern and set it on the table. The kitchen is suddenly aglow again after we were left in darkness. Outside, the storm rages on with the wind punching and moaning, striking down everything in its way. I only hope the house is strong enough to withstand it. I should feel better with the lamplight, but the shadows grow and seem to be lurking as the wind and thundering rain become deafening. It started out as a typical rainstorm, but it grew in strength as the evening wore on. Earlier in the day, Nori and Samuel asked if I wanted to stay with them. “No need, yeah, it’s just a rainstorm,” I said. “Daniel and I will be fine.” Now it’s too late, the storm has grown into a typhoon, and it’s too dangerous for us to leave the house. I look up to see Daniel standing in the doorway, watching me.

I open my arms to him. “It’s going to be okay,” I say. “It’s just a storm, it blows in and out like breath, yeah, and then it’s gone.”

He nods and comes to me for a hug. He’s tall for seven years old.