The Crypt Keeper

fantasy, fairytale-aesthetic, ghost story, wholesome, grief

When a princess loses her brother, she descends into the dark catacombs beneath her palace and finds the crypt keeper, the catacombs’ caretaker who has the ability to make the dead appear as ghosts. Soon, the princess spends every spare moment in these sunless halls, pretending the dead prince is still with her…

Once upon a time there was a crypt keeper who tended to the ancient tombs beneath a grand castle. She never left the ancient catacombs, which would have been darker than the land beyond the stars if not for the single rats’ fat candle she carried with her as she did her chores day after day. In the mornings, her candle lit incense and in the afternoons it revealed the critters flee from the light and broom. At night, its light reflected off tombs inlaid with beautiful jewels while she conversed with the royal spirits. One such spirit, a ghost king of days old, was the crypt keeper’s only and long-time friend. He accompanied her during her working hours and they talked about distant memories of the sun, any remarkable and rare colors they’d come across in their bland stone halls, the state of the catacombs—everything and nothing at all.

The monotony of the crypt keeper’s days ended the morning the ghost king noticed a cold blue light glowing in the distance, not at all like the flickering orange glow of the crypt keeper’s rats’ fat candle. 

“How odd!” remarked he. He and the crypt keeper ran to find the source—a peculiar box emitting light—set down beside the recently constructed tomb of a young prince. The cold blue light gave a lifeless, desaturated hue to the face of a tear-streaked girl dressed in gold and silver.

“You are not a ghost,” said the crypt keeper, startling the girl.

“No,” replied she, “I am the princess of the sunlit lands above, and this is the tomb of my brother.”

The sorrow in the princess’ demeanor inspired the crypt keeper to ask, “Would you like to speak with his spirit?”

The princess leapt at the opportunity and eagerly watched as the crypt keeper brushed callused fingers over top of the prince’s tomb. First the princess’s light box winked out, then the rats’ fat candle snuffed out too. In the pinprick light of the wick’s ember, a spirit emerged, obscure and elusive to the mortal eye. But after a breathless moment, the princess spotted the smiling ghost and flew to her feet with a choked cry. The two siblings laughed, embraced, and spoke once more, their joy warming the stony halls of the dead. Watching from afar and cupping the warmth of her candle close to her, the crypt keeper felt herself smiling at the siblings she had reunited. Hours flew by and the prince and princess held onto one another as they recalled a million shared memories. Their voices overlapped, as if they were trying to cram a thousand words into every moment. But when the bell tower tolled twelve, the princess had to return to the castle above to sleep, with a promise to return the next day. 

So by the flickering glow of the rats’ fat candle and the steady beam of the light box, the crypt keeper led the princess back to the surface. 

As they left the tomb, the princess’ eyes watered and she glanced back into the darkness behind them, longing to return to her dead brother. And while the princess yearned, the crypt keeper wondered—after a day of stealing glimpses at the bright, cold glare of the light box, the crypt keeper finally inquired, “What is the box you have brought that holds the light of the stars?” 

With an amused glance to her light box, the princess said, “It is an electric lantern.”

The crypt keeper took the hot metal box in her hands. “How marvelous,” remarked she, “it sings, too.”

“That is the buzzing electricity you hear,” said the princess. 

Stopping before the dull, wooden door that separated the catacombs from the world above, the crypt keeper mused,  “I have never heard of electricity. It’s been so long since I last walked through this door.”

Whether out of sympathy or out of desire to see her brother more often, the princess said, “I would like to be your friend. You must not have many down in these dismal halls.” The crypt keeper agreed happily and bade her new friend goodnight.

When the light of the electric lantern faded, the crypt keeper found it replaced with the dim luminosity of the ghost king’s spirit. Having lived and died himself, the ghost king believed in the importance of grief and moving on. “If you allow the princess to see the dead prince, she will never learn to be happy again. You are helping her cheat grief.”

“She needs not to grieve; she can visit him any time. It’ll be as if she never lost him.”

“And what happens when a friend whose spirit you cannot conjure dies? How does she grieve for them when she believes herself above grief?” But the crypt keeper dismissed the words of her old friend. As he watched the rats’ fat candle bob away, the ghost king vowed softly, “I’ll do what I must.”

With dark plots in his mind, he came to the tomb of the dead prince, prepared to force the young spirit away. But the dead prince had heard the ghost king’s words and awaited him, perched atop his tomb. “I do not wish for my sister to cling to my dead spirit. I shall go on my own volition,” said he. “But if I am not allowed to stay because I am dead, why have you lingered in these halls for all these centuries?”

“Everyone who cared for me when I was alive is long dead,” said the ghost king. “I am not holding anyone back. I stay to keep the crypt keeper company. Especially in the early days, the isolation was hard for her. The crypt keeper has tended to your ancestors’ tombs since she was quite young.”

The prince was already fading as he nodded sagely. “Then perhaps one day I will return as well.” 

When the princess came back the next morning, her brother was gone. Shrieking and tearing at her resplendent clothes, the princess ran back and forth, in loops and laps and wandering spirals, searching for but not finding the prince.  And the crypt keeper could not find the ghost king either, although she could sense he was somewhere nearby. As the day waned, the crypt keeper approached the princess trembling before the marble tomb.

“Where could he be?” wept the princess. “You said ghosts cannot stray far from their tombs.”

“I believe your brother has… moved on,” said the crypt keeper as gently as she could. She explained that the prince must’ve left for the land beyond the stars. It was the sign of a soul at peace, she assured the princess, all the while furiously wondering where the ghost king was.

This did not comfort the twice-aggrieved princess. “I’ve lost him all over again,” raged the teary princess. “I wish you’d never shown me his ghost!” She fled back through the dull door, abandoning her friend.

The moment the blue light of her lantern could no longer be seen, the crypt keeper raced through the dark halls, promising retribution.

“You were my friend!” she screamed, knowing her voice would echo through the labyrinthine halls and reach the ghost king. Even if she couldn’t find him, her wrath would shake the catacombs. “Look what you’ve done—she’ll never recover! I’ll find you!”

The ghost king hid from his old friend for nearly a year, but the crypt keeper found him eventually. “You forced the prince to go to the land beyond the stars! Have you heard the princess has not smiled once since then? Has not hosted her golden parties or dressed in silks the colors of the rainbow?” Fury driving her, she promised, “I will find a way to banish you—I’ll cast you out, destroy your tomb—I will do it.”

The ghost king’s heart broke seeing his old friend so angry, yet he could not regret his actions. “I heard the princess spends her days helping the people of her kingdom. Is that not better than spending her days in these dismal catacombs talking to the mere shadow of the brother she once knew? She is facing her grief now, and only good will come from it.”

The crypt keeper lowered her fiery fists. She had heard from gossiping royal spirits that the princess was doing just as the ghost king described. The crypt keeper could so easily imagine it too—the princess in a drab black dress and a tight smile that nearly reached her eyes, speaking to a bright and busy marketplace with hope in her voice, color in her cheeks. In her quest for revenge, she had neglected the good in favor of the bad.

Her anger spluttered out like a match dropped into a well. “You are right,” she said. “Terrible as loss is, it is a part of life. She will move on. I will too.” The crypt keeper held out her hand in forgiveness. 

Soon after, the two resumed their old routine, remembering the time a living princess had graced those dark corridors. High above the underground tombs, the princess relearned how to smile and wished her brother a peaceful journey in the afterlife. And after many years, the princess remembered her friend, and thereafter the halls of the catacombs were often lit by the faint glow of a spirit, the blue beam of an electric lantern, and the flickering light of a rats’ fat candle.