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So many questions swirled around in my head as I stared at the ghost.
How did he know I was coming? How did he know my name? Who is he? I thought ghosts weren’t real Mum, how do you explain this? And why does he look so familiar?
Luckily for me, all my questions were answered in one sentence, “Sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m David Scott Mitchell, I am the founder of this library and I’ve been sent to find you by the orders of Emily York, who I believe is your sister.”
Annoyingly, his answers made new questions pop into my head, so I decided to ask the first question that came to my mind, “Why are you alive?”
“I would consider that rude, but you have never seen a ghost before, so you ---”
What he just said made my jaw drop, so I couldn’t wait any longer, I did the unbearable, unspeakable, I interrupted, “You're a ghost?!”
Interrupting had always been a big no, no in my family, we had been taught to be patient and to wait, we’d been told it was rude, very rude. But, with all that worrying about what Mum would say if she knew, I forgot about another rule I had just broken.
“Shhhhhhhhh! This is a library!” David Scott Mitchel shouted, breaking the rule he’d just called me out on for breaking.
“Sorry. Wait, what about Emily, is she a ghost, too?”
He nodded.
“Can I see her?”
He nodded and walked.
“Wait! Come back here, where are you going?!”
David Scott Mitchell kept walking, I couldn’t believe it, he didn’t even care that I’d just shouted in a library. So, even though I should have known better than to follow a ghost I had only just met through a library that I hadn’t been in for four years in the middle of the night, I followed him.
And so, we walked, and walked some more, and walked a bit more and ---
Something flashed at the corner of my eyes. In the doorway was a man, tall, wrinkled and pale, but not as pale as the ghost that was walking in front of me. I could tell the doorway man was searching for something, I could tell, by the way his face was tilted, and the way his eyes widened as he saw me, his eyes blood red, veins pulsing rapidly, I knew what had just happened, he recognised me. I ran.
I ran fast, sprinted down ten different hallways, then I stopped. And David Scott Mitchell was standing right beside me. “This way,” he said.
We walked into the galleries, where artworks hung on walls, then we stopped. I was very determined to get as far away as possible from that, what’d you call it, thing, as possible, “Come on. Why have we stopped?” Then I saw.
A door had opened, like a bit of the wall had just cracked and swung open, it was a very confusing sight. “Come.” David Scott Mitchell said. Then he disappeared through the door, and very soon afterward, I did too.
Inside was a hallway, a big giant hallway, that seemed to stretch on forever. SLAM! I jumped. And quickly turned around, nothing was there, it was only the door closing.
I continued to follow David Scott Mitchell through the hallway, and then down another. This time it was bigger, with colourful doors on either side, ghosts walking in and out, nodding “hello” to David Scott Mitchell as they passed, not taking any notice of me.
“Stay here.” We were standing outside of a sage green door, with the letters E.L written in gold writing. David Scott Mitchell was gone, I guessed he was in the room. So I waited, and waited then I listened, because I was very good at listening through doors. I heard voices, two, David Scott Mitchell’s and someone else's, someone young.
“Yes, miss.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Alright, I’m ready to see her.”
And with that, footsteps sounded, I pulled away from the door. It opened, and David Scott Mitchell came out, “She’s ready to see you.”
He held the door open for me to step in, and I did, very, very nervously.
“Hillary!” The girl in the seat jumped up in joy. She was about eight, wide eyes and hair in pigtails. For a second I didn’t know her, she was just another ghost, a kid ghost, but still a ghost, and then I saw her. Saw her jumping over the waves at the beach, choosing a birthday present for Mum, choosing a fish at the pet shop. This wasn’t just a ghost, this was Emily, the girl who didn’t deserve to die that day, the girl I called my sister.
How did he know I was coming? How did he know my name? Who is he? I thought ghosts weren’t real Mum, how do you explain this? And why does he look so familiar?
Luckily for me, all my questions were answered in one sentence, “Sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m David Scott Mitchell, I am the founder of this library and I’ve been sent to find you by the orders of Emily York, who I believe is your sister.”
Annoyingly, his answers made new questions pop into my head, so I decided to ask the first question that came to my mind, “Why are you alive?”
“I would consider that rude, but you have never seen a ghost before, so you ---”
What he just said made my jaw drop, so I couldn’t wait any longer, I did the unbearable, unspeakable, I interrupted, “You're a ghost?!”
Interrupting had always been a big no, no in my family, we had been taught to be patient and to wait, we’d been told it was rude, very rude. But, with all that worrying about what Mum would say if she knew, I forgot about another rule I had just broken.
“Shhhhhhhhh! This is a library!” David Scott Mitchel shouted, breaking the rule he’d just called me out on for breaking.
“Sorry. Wait, what about Emily, is she a ghost, too?”
He nodded.
“Can I see her?”
He nodded and walked.
“Wait! Come back here, where are you going?!”
David Scott Mitchell kept walking, I couldn’t believe it, he didn’t even care that I’d just shouted in a library. So, even though I should have known better than to follow a ghost I had only just met through a library that I hadn’t been in for four years in the middle of the night, I followed him.
And so, we walked, and walked some more, and walked a bit more and ---
Something flashed at the corner of my eyes. In the doorway was a man, tall, wrinkled and pale, but not as pale as the ghost that was walking in front of me. I could tell the doorway man was searching for something, I could tell, by the way his face was tilted, and the way his eyes widened as he saw me, his eyes blood red, veins pulsing rapidly, I knew what had just happened, he recognised me. I ran.
I ran fast, sprinted down ten different hallways, then I stopped. And David Scott Mitchell was standing right beside me. “This way,” he said.
We walked into the galleries, where artworks hung on walls, then we stopped. I was very determined to get as far away as possible from that, what’d you call it, thing, as possible, “Come on. Why have we stopped?” Then I saw.
A door had opened, like a bit of the wall had just cracked and swung open, it was a very confusing sight. “Come.” David Scott Mitchell said. Then he disappeared through the door, and very soon afterward, I did too.
Inside was a hallway, a big giant hallway, that seemed to stretch on forever. SLAM! I jumped. And quickly turned around, nothing was there, it was only the door closing.
I continued to follow David Scott Mitchell through the hallway, and then down another. This time it was bigger, with colourful doors on either side, ghosts walking in and out, nodding “hello” to David Scott Mitchell as they passed, not taking any notice of me.
“Stay here.” We were standing outside of a sage green door, with the letters E.L written in gold writing. David Scott Mitchell was gone, I guessed he was in the room. So I waited, and waited then I listened, because I was very good at listening through doors. I heard voices, two, David Scott Mitchell’s and someone else's, someone young.
“Yes, miss.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Alright, I’m ready to see her.”
And with that, footsteps sounded, I pulled away from the door. It opened, and David Scott Mitchell came out, “She’s ready to see you.”
He held the door open for me to step in, and I did, very, very nervously.
“Hillary!” The girl in the seat jumped up in joy. She was about eight, wide eyes and hair in pigtails. For a second I didn’t know her, she was just another ghost, a kid ghost, but still a ghost, and then I saw her. Saw her jumping over the waves at the beach, choosing a birthday present for Mum, choosing a fish at the pet shop. This wasn’t just a ghost, this was Emily, the girl who didn’t deserve to die that day, the girl I called my sister.