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Emily was alive (not really, she’s a ghost), she was happy, she was also very very scared. Of the man in the doorway, who she told me was Henry Lawson.
“Henry Lawson?” I stare at Emily in disbelief, “But didn’t he die 100 years ago?”
Emily nodded, “Yes, he did. I’m confused too. But that doesn’t matter, I just want to find out why he’s looking for me, and why he’s so desperate to find me. Why is he travelling into human minds to make them look for me? I want to know.”
“And you want me to find out and stop him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. But there is one teensy problem” I said, remembering the look of recognition on Henry Lawson’s face when he saw me.
“What is that?”
“Well, I’ve seen him.”
“What?! Hillary! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Emily hopped from her seat clearly worried.
“Well, until you gave the description, I didn’t know who he was. And he sorta, kinda, maybe recognised me.”
Emily’s face was pale, really pale, seeing that she was a ghost. “No. No. No. No. No. This can’t - just no.” Then she took a big deep breath, but didn’t breath in any air, “Ok. Hillary, don’t worry. He doesn’t know you so he shouldn’t recognise you. So don’t worry. Just find out what he wants ok. And be safe.”
I nodded, “I will.” Then I left and David Scott Mitchell led me down two other hallways to a door painted mustard yellow with the letters H.Y written in gold writing on it. My initials. “Excuse me, Mr Mitchell, I was just wondering why -”
“Your initials are on this door?” David Scott Mitchel finished my question, “Also, Miss Hillary, I prefer to be called Dave, or Scotty, that’s what my friends call me.”
“I’m your friend?” I couldn’t believe this, I was friends with a famous person.
“Yes. Any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.”
“Why do you care for Emily so much?”
“Well, she reminds me of a woman I once loved, Emily Matilda. And she was so lonely here, so I told her I’d be her father, so she'd have family with her.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, “Thankyou.” I said, half-crying, then I hugged him. “Thank you, Dave.”
******
I set off to find Henry Lawson half an hour later. Dave said he was happy to come but I told him that he had to stay with Emily.
I completely regretted that just after the door in the wall closed, wishing I had someone with me. Henry Lawson was creepy, and I barely knew my way around the state library. Before I left Emily told me to search the stacks, which she presumed was where Henry Lawson hid when he wasn’t roaming the halls. She also told me quite a bit about resurrected humans. Like how they can’t eat or drink, or read, they have no knowledge whatsoever. Which means they are being controlled by someone else. But who?
I walk down stairs, following the map Dave had drawn for me. Until I reached the first level of the stacks. Shelves and shelves full of millions of year old objects. A few had labels. And two were just labels, at first I thought the labels were the old object, then I read them and realised what the labels said.
Henry Lawson
Death Mask
Henry Lawson
Hand Cast
Whoever had resurrected Henry Lawson must have taken these to do so. I went down to the next level, then the next. This one had quite a few ancient books on the shelves so I took my time, examining each one carefully, trying my best not to sniff them, because the smell of old books is mesmerizing. I turned the corner. Then I froze. The figure sitting on the desk a few feet away from me ran, dropping everything in their hands. Then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Magic.
I neared the desk. On it was a teacup, with still-warm tea inside. It was white with little pictures of waratahs on it, it looked so familiar. And the other object, a newspaper dated on the 8th of May 2018. Who would want to read a newspaper from that long ago. I scanned the front page for any sign of interesting news when I saw Emily’s name. This wasn’t just any newspaper, this was the newspaper from the day she was pushed. The day journalist Thalia Glasshouse interviewed us, and the day we left. Leaving every memory of Emily in New South Wales. Then I read. Thalia made everything so sad and realistic, it felt like I was reliving that day.
CRASH! I jumped, and I screamed. It was the creepy guy, Henry Lawson, I knew it was. I began thinking that I would never make it back to Melbourne. I turned slowly, bracing myself for the blood-red eyes of Henry Lawson. But I only saw a ghost. Not a human ghost though, it was the ghost of a cat.
“Henry Lawson?” I stare at Emily in disbelief, “But didn’t he die 100 years ago?”
Emily nodded, “Yes, he did. I’m confused too. But that doesn’t matter, I just want to find out why he’s looking for me, and why he’s so desperate to find me. Why is he travelling into human minds to make them look for me? I want to know.”
“And you want me to find out and stop him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. But there is one teensy problem” I said, remembering the look of recognition on Henry Lawson’s face when he saw me.
“What is that?”
“Well, I’ve seen him.”
“What?! Hillary! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Emily hopped from her seat clearly worried.
“Well, until you gave the description, I didn’t know who he was. And he sorta, kinda, maybe recognised me.”
Emily’s face was pale, really pale, seeing that she was a ghost. “No. No. No. No. No. This can’t - just no.” Then she took a big deep breath, but didn’t breath in any air, “Ok. Hillary, don’t worry. He doesn’t know you so he shouldn’t recognise you. So don’t worry. Just find out what he wants ok. And be safe.”
I nodded, “I will.” Then I left and David Scott Mitchell led me down two other hallways to a door painted mustard yellow with the letters H.Y written in gold writing on it. My initials. “Excuse me, Mr Mitchell, I was just wondering why -”
“Your initials are on this door?” David Scott Mitchel finished my question, “Also, Miss Hillary, I prefer to be called Dave, or Scotty, that’s what my friends call me.”
“I’m your friend?” I couldn’t believe this, I was friends with a famous person.
“Yes. Any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.”
“Why do you care for Emily so much?”
“Well, she reminds me of a woman I once loved, Emily Matilda. And she was so lonely here, so I told her I’d be her father, so she'd have family with her.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, “Thankyou.” I said, half-crying, then I hugged him. “Thank you, Dave.”
******
I set off to find Henry Lawson half an hour later. Dave said he was happy to come but I told him that he had to stay with Emily.
I completely regretted that just after the door in the wall closed, wishing I had someone with me. Henry Lawson was creepy, and I barely knew my way around the state library. Before I left Emily told me to search the stacks, which she presumed was where Henry Lawson hid when he wasn’t roaming the halls. She also told me quite a bit about resurrected humans. Like how they can’t eat or drink, or read, they have no knowledge whatsoever. Which means they are being controlled by someone else. But who?
I walk down stairs, following the map Dave had drawn for me. Until I reached the first level of the stacks. Shelves and shelves full of millions of year old objects. A few had labels. And two were just labels, at first I thought the labels were the old object, then I read them and realised what the labels said.
Henry Lawson
Death Mask
Henry Lawson
Hand Cast
Whoever had resurrected Henry Lawson must have taken these to do so. I went down to the next level, then the next. This one had quite a few ancient books on the shelves so I took my time, examining each one carefully, trying my best not to sniff them, because the smell of old books is mesmerizing. I turned the corner. Then I froze. The figure sitting on the desk a few feet away from me ran, dropping everything in their hands. Then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Magic.
I neared the desk. On it was a teacup, with still-warm tea inside. It was white with little pictures of waratahs on it, it looked so familiar. And the other object, a newspaper dated on the 8th of May 2018. Who would want to read a newspaper from that long ago. I scanned the front page for any sign of interesting news when I saw Emily’s name. This wasn’t just any newspaper, this was the newspaper from the day she was pushed. The day journalist Thalia Glasshouse interviewed us, and the day we left. Leaving every memory of Emily in New South Wales. Then I read. Thalia made everything so sad and realistic, it felt like I was reliving that day.
CRASH! I jumped, and I screamed. It was the creepy guy, Henry Lawson, I knew it was. I began thinking that I would never make it back to Melbourne. I turned slowly, bracing myself for the blood-red eyes of Henry Lawson. But I only saw a ghost. Not a human ghost though, it was the ghost of a cat.