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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

So, apparently my mind can't stick to one story long enough to get the motivation to finish it! I have another story, The Spring of the First Man, that I started...a long time ago. I read that working on another story can be a good solution to writer's block, and this idea's been floating around in my head for awhile, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and write this! I hope any readers enjoy!

 

Chapter 1: Why I Never Played Truth or Dare Again

 

This is the story of Alex Smith (I know, unique last name), a blonde, blue-eyed girl of fifteen years. Also known as, me! And how her life was turned upside down. All because of a stupid, immature game.

 

Okay. Here we go...

 

"C'mon, Alex! It won't be that bad!" My friend Morgan placed a "comforting" hand on my shoulder. The gesture would normally be nice, and send a bit of an electric shock through me, but with the devilish smirk on his face all I felt was dread. "And unless you go in, you'll have to tell us all about your mysterious crush!"

 

I groaned aloud. As a fifteen year old girl, even though I didn't understand exactly why crushes were so embarrassing to talk about, they most definitely were. And I also knew that I was a terrible liar and that I did not want to admit that Morgan was my crush. Morgan with his stupid short brown hair, and how stupidly tall he was compared to my 5 foot frame, and his stupidly nice brown eyes... Stupid.

 

My other friend, Sarah, nudged me playfully in the arm, making me re-adjust my grip on my book bag (its too big straps were always falling off my shoulders). It was late; the sun was just setting over the horizon. 

 

"This feels like something I should be doing at night.." I murmured with a grimace. 

 

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, we'll be here all night if you don't hurry it up!" she said. "Unless...You're too scared to go into the O'Harris Mansion!" she added a bit of a song into her voice when she said the place's name, and waved her hands.

 

A bit of background on the mansion. It was old, from colonial times in fact, and it's style reflected it. The enormous house and its grounds had been abandoned for decades, perhaps centuries (no one was really sure), however, and it showed in the dilapidated, and over all creepy as heck mansion. Oh, and there was that persistent and popular rumor that it was haunted. So, as punishment for me keeping mum on my crush, my stupid friends made me do a stupid dare and go into a stupid haunted house. Lucky me.

 

I breathed deeply. We were just about a hundred feet from the place, and I could feel its menacing air from where I was standing. Wind rustled through tree leaves and dark clouds crept in forebodingly. And yet, the house had a certain draw to it. I couldn't quite place my finger on it, but something was calling out to me. 

 

"Alex," Morgan broke me out of my train of thought. "Just go in there for a quick peak! You'll be fine."

 

I huffed. I could never say no to him. "Fine. But if I end up murdered like in some cheap horror flick, I'll haunt y'all to your graves."

 

Holding the straps of my book bag so tightly my knuckles turned white, I headed towards the house. I focused on my breathing, trying to keep it deep and even despite my racing pulse, and on the sound of dead weeds crunching under my feet.

 

When I reached the rickety porch, I turned back to my friends. Morgan waved at me, shooing me along, and I reluctantly grasped a rotting railing and started up the wooden steps. When I reached the top, there was a sudden CRACK, and I shrieked as my foot broke through the old planks of the porch, barely reaching back for the step railing in time. 

 

My heart beat so fast I thought it would burst out of my chest, but I was determined not to back down from the dare. Gulping, and steeling my nerves, I proceded, more careful in my steps. 

 

I eventually reached the door of the mansion. I cautiously pushed it open, and when it swung inwards it was like it was being swallowed into a black hole. The mansion was pitch black. Closing my eyes and breathing heavily through my nose, I walked in.

 

The first thing I noticed, past the overwhelming terrifying suffocating darkness, was the smell. It was musty and damp, and I wrinkled my nose immediately after entering. 

 

The next thing I noticed, once my vision began adjusting to the darkness of the room, was the decor. I figured I was in the old living room. The furniture I saw in the room was ruined, probably burrowed in by bugs and small animals, and also damaged by water likely dripping in from the ruined ceiling, but I could tell from the limited light coming in from the windows that it had once been very lavish. Yellowing, tarnished wall paper was peeling from the walls but had likely once been beautiful. I wonder what made everybody up and leave this place, I thought as I admired an expensive looking china teapot. 

 

Out of the darkness, my eyes caught a curious glimmer of metal hanging around a door knob leading to another room. I slowly walked towards it, not wanting a repeat of the incident on the porch. When I reached the object, I took it off and examined it. It appeared to be a heart-shaped locket, with something...some word engraved on the front. Remembering I had a tiny flashlight key chain on my book bag, I swung it off my shoulders and placed it on the ground. Unhooking the key chain, I then shined its faint light on the locket, barely making out the engraving.

 

"Emilia..."


The word was barely off my tongue when the door the locket had been hanging in slammed open, swinging inwards. I screamed loudly, both at the door and what was revealed inside the room. In the middle of what looked to have been a kitchen, there was an ethereal, transparent woman. She was facing away from me at first, but when she turned back to me I was horrified. The woman was wearing plain clothes, like some kind of servant. She had raven black hair, and what likely would have been a beautiful face, if not for the fact that she didn't have a mouth. She stared at me, and I heard a raspy, disembodied voice echo all around me.

 

There is no justice. The wicked are not punished. I AM UNAVENGED.

 

At this last part she lunged towards me, breaking me out of my trance. I turned and ran, forgetting both my book bag on the ground and the fact that the floors could give way. Thankfully, they didn't, and I burst out of the house moments later to see Morgan and Sarah running towards me.


"Alex!" Morgan reached me first, his arms coming up to steady me as I panted and near collapsed from shock. 

 

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked, pushing a strand of her black hair (unhelpfully reminding me of the...ghost) behind her ear. Her green eyes flashed with concern. "We heard you screaming!"

 

I shook my head. "There was... there was..." I trailed off. Who on earth would believe me if I told them? I looked away from the worried gazes of my friends. "There was a...racoon!"

 

Morgan raised an eyebrow in a way that made me sure he didn't believe me. "A racoon?"

 

I nodded. "Well, I guess it could've been a cat. I couldn't really tell, I just ran." I forced a chuckle.

 

He frowned and grabbed the locket that I hadn't realized I was still holding (the brush of his hand against mine sent stupid shivers up my spine, and I cursed myself for being so stupid).  "Where did you get this?"

 

I shrugged nonchalantley. "It was just something I found in there. Forgot to put it back." Not technically a lie.

 

He nodded and let it drop back into my hands. "Well, looks like you left your book bag in there. I'll go grab it for y-"

 

"No!" The vehemence in my voice made Morgan and Sarah do a double take. 

 

"Why not?" he asked. 


I smiled as sweetly as I could, praying he wouldn't protest. "You don't need to do that. Tonight's Friday, I don't need it for school yet. I'll get it myself tomorrow morning."

 

He looked like he was going to argue more, but apparently thought better of it when he saw the look in my eyes. "Alright. Let's just get you home."

 

I nodded, and straightened up, noting that his arms had stayed on me (steadied me, I'm his friend, my logical side argued) the entire time. 

 

Later that night, when I was in my room, getting ready for bed, I examined the locket. 

 

Who was Emilia, I thought. Who gave this to her? And who was that..ghost? Again my thoughts stuck on the word ghost. I had always been a firm disbeliever of the supernatural (though of course I still found things creepy, of course), but this..was compelling evidence to the contrary.

 

Rubbing my thumb one last time over the engraving on the locket, I set it on my nightstand and got in bed, pulling my covers up over me. For the last time since I had been five years old, I left my bedside lamp on...

 

 

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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fearlesscupcake39

Branch: Lucian

Ooh this is really intriguing.

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Andie 

Time Lady

Proud Atheist.

Team Free Will.

Bow Ties are Cool.

Always Keep Fighting.

Keep Calm And Love CALM.

We Were Born To Make History.

It's  Not A Secret That I'm Just A Reject.

Stay Insane.

 

 

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Oh my gosh, thanks so much!

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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amazingtiger219

Branch: Ekaterina

Fascinating 

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Queen Ivy

Thorn Clover Lily Keith Riptide Luke Ryder 

 

Always be yourself, not the person that you pretend to be- NF

 

All the best people are mad- Lewis Carroll 

 

I'm Back!

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Thanks! :)

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

I'm happy to see that some of you have liked the story so far! I hope you continue to read! :)

 

Chapter 2: My Life, as Told Through French Toast

 

The next morning I tried to pretend none of it ever happened. It couldn't have happened. Nothing like this, not to me. 

 

Of course, when I was done convincing myself of my overactive imagination, I looked for my bag to start on my chemistry paper about polyatomic ions. My fantasy unraveled pretty quickly.

 

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, an old bad habit of mine, and debated what I should do. I looked at the clock.

 

8:34

 

It can wait, I decided. Chemistry isn't something I'm raring to do anyway (Not to mention I was certainly not raring to go back into that house).

 

Heading downstairs for breakfast, I knocked on the door to my father's bedroom. I heard some muffled mumbling, and a few seconds later he emerged. His eyes were bloodshot, with heavy bags, and his shaggy, sandy blond hair was disheveled. Adding to that his five o'clock shadow and he didn't look all that great. But that was pretty normal. He was a homicide detective, after all, and the job took its toll.

 

Nevertheless, he ruffled my hair playfully and grinned ear-to-ear. "Hey, you. Good morning."

 

We headed to the kitchen and he called back over his shoulder. "Do you want french toast or belgian waffles?"

 

I smiled brightly. "I think you know."

 

He shook his head and grabbed his Kiss the Chef apron (a gag gift he had received from his brother). "I'll never understand why you can't accept the superiority of some good, homemade waffles."

 

I made a face. "French toast is far superior. You can cut it up into little strips, and dunk it in syrup..." I trailed off, my mouth watering.

 

My father rolled his eyes playfully. "But waffles have perfect, built in, syrup-holding pools!" He grabbed some things from the fridge while I set about making us some tea. I had always found it odd that my father, a cop, didn't enjoy coffee, until one day he let me try some he had begrudgingly taken from work and brought home because he had been working a tough case. The stuff was nasty.

 

"Well," my father said, mixing up the batter for the toast. "I guess the Princess always gets what she wants."

 

I frowned, dramatically feigning offense at his remark. "Princess" had been his main nickname for me for as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I had disliked it, but now that was I growing up I found myself fond of it. 

 

For the most part after that, we fell into a comfortable silence, with him making the toast and eggs, and me making myself busy with our tea, setting the table, and doing other little things (like grabbing a small plastic bowl and pouring my syrup into it for maximum dunking). It wasn't until we were actually sitting down to eat that he spoke again.

 

"Your mother called last night."

 

I froze, strip of french toast halfway to my bowl. "Why?"

 

My father ran a hand through his already messy hair. "She wanted to talk to you. But you weren't here. Anyway, she says she'll be visiting in October. Two weeks from now, I think."

 

No, no, no, I thought. She does not get to ruin my favorite month.

 

Okay. Maybe that was a bit harsh. But my mother and I did not see eye to eye.

 

When I was just ten years old, my mother had divorced my dad (after having a near year long affair herself). Then she had gone gallivanting off to who-knows-where, almost never visiting, almost never callling. It hurt, it hurt to see how she betrayed my dad, it hurt to see that she didn't want anything to do with me.

 

"What does she want?"

 

My dad shook his head and smiled tightly. "I don't know, Princess. Let's worry about that when she comes."

 

I ran a hand through my long, blonde hair, floored. "Okay."

 

We spent the next five minutes talking, joking, and studiously avoiding the topic of my mother. We were both about halfway done with breakfast when his phone, sitting on the table next to him, started ringing. He sighed and picked it up. 

 

"Smith here," he answered. I prayed he wasn't being called for the reason I thought he was. "Yep...I'll be there in twenty." My heart sank and he looked up at me sadly. "Sorry to cut breakfast short, kiddo, but I've got to head to the station."

 

I nodded, used to it. My dad forced another smile and we got up. He pulled me in for a hug and patted me on the back before releasing me. "I'll see you tonight, Princess."

 

Again, I nodded silently, and started putting his unfinished breakfast in tupperware for him to take to work while he shaved and got ready for the day. 

 

Fifteen minutes later, he hurriedly ran out the door, looking slightly less disheveled and almost forgetting his food. I sat back down at the table after I watched him go and took a bite of my cold breakfast. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. 

 

Eventually, after picking at my food for what seemed like years,  I decided I wasn't hungry anymore. I rinsed my stuff off and put in the dishwasher, then looked at the clock.

 

9:17

 

Now or never, I thought. Better get it over with. 

 

I slipped back into my room and quickly changed from my baggy pajama bottoms and loose shirt into some other random clothes pulled from my closet. No point in dressing up for a bunch of dead people, but I'd rather not go into a haunted house in my pjs. 

 

Ten minutes later I left my house, totally ready to face a crazy murderous phantom woman (I brought along one of those military-grade flashlights, y'know, the ones they say can blind a bear). I decided to take the long route there, walking mostly through town instead of cutting through the forest. My spooky-o'-meter was already way over its limit.

 

It was when I was almost there that I ran into a problem.

 

"Alex!"

 

I froze, recognizing the voice. Please no, not now.

 

Maybe I can pretend I didn't hear him, I thought. Yeah right.

 

I turned around to see Morgan jogging towards me. He looked way too chipper, considering he was up before noon on a Saturday (the boy loved his sleep). He caught up to me quickly and grinned at me crookedly. It's not fair for him to be so stupidly adorable.

 

"H-hey," I stammered and inwardly cursed at myself. "What's up?"

 

He shrugged and kept smiling his stupid smile. "I was up to take my little sister to her soccer game and I saw you on my way back. You on your way to the O'Harris Mansion?"

 

I pursed my lips and nodded, knowing he would see through any attempt at deception. 

 

"Cool! I'll come with you!"

 

My eyes widened. "What?"

 

He grinned again and I was torn between the impulse to kiss him or to punch him. "Yeah, I'll tag along."

 

I shook my head. "You don't have to do that. I'm sure you'd rather go back to bed."

 

"Nah, it's too late for that. You think I'd be that bad of company?" he joked.

 

I squirmed, "The absolute worst. But seriously, you don't have to." Please, take a hint.

 

He laughed. "Nope! As your friend, I am obligated to make sure that you don't face crazy haunted mansions alone!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

I accidentally submitted last chapter before it was done, but maybe that's for the best, it was getting pretty long! So, I'll update twice today. If you're liking the story, please tell me what you like about it, and if you have any criticisms let me know! I love feedback!

 

Chapter 3: Friends for Life, Friends for the Afterlife

 

This morning was definitely not going as I had planned. Morgan carried the conversation next to me, with me only popping in to make little "Hmmm"'s and "Ohhh"s at the appropriate times. I was mostly focused on finding some way, any way, to get rid of him. 

 

"And so Sarah says, 'You've got to stop it with the donuts, man!'"

 

I tuned back into his words at this point. We had reached the overgrown lawn of the O'Harris Mansion's grounds. Turning back to him, I said, "I think I can take it from here, Morgan."

 

He frowned. "Are you sure? Because it's really no trouble if-"

 

I placed my hand on his arm. "I'm sure. I'll be fine, you can head back home."

 

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Okay....But I'm waiting out here for you."

 

I inwardly sighed with relief. "That's fine. I'll be out in a few."

 

He nodded and I started off across the clearing towards the mansion for the second time in as many days.  A chilly morning breeze blew around me, and I cursed myself for not thinking to bring a jacket along. The same foreboding yet alluring aura emanated from the mansion as had yesterday, and I was half tempted to turn back around and ask Morgan to go in with me after all, but I couldn't. I had no idea what was going on in there, with me, and my stubborn pride had to be satisfied. No turning back.

 

So, against every instinct in my body, I climbed up to the porch, carefully, crossed it, and (after switching on my flashlight) entered the mansion. 

 

It had rained the night before, so the mansion smelled extra damp and gross today. I imagined a perfume brand called "Essence of Rodent Infestations". I flashed my light wildly around the room, looking for psycho killer ladies, but I didn't see any. Didn't make me feel much better though, as I advanced towards the kitchen.

 

The door was still open, but I couldn't see anyone inside this time. However, reaching down to pick my book bag back up, my blood ran cold.

 

My pen was lying innocently on one of my notebooks, flipped to an open page, which was filled with handwriting that was not mine.

 

I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming and hurriedly stuffed the notebook in my bag and my pen in pocket. After that, I was gone, though with no crazed ghost after me I was slightly more cautious about the flooring. Just as I reached the door, I felt as if someone were watching me and turned around. Although I couldn't see anyone, I could feel a gaze on me. My neck prickled, even though this stare seemed less intense than that of the spectral woman the day before. Slinging my bag over my shoulders, I exited the house. 

 

Coming down the porch, it was comforting to see Morgan waiting for me exactly as he had said he would. He smiled when he saw me and yelled. "You all set?"

 

"Yep!" I gave him a thumbs up, trying to hide my uneasiness. I don't think he noticed. We set off, and I was again mostly silent on the way back. 

 

We split up once we reached his house, and then I continued on to mine alone, giving me plenty of time to think and freak out over what I had just found. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine, it's fine.

 

When I reached my house, I immediately headed for my room, not caring when I slammed the door. I sat on my plain, tan sheets and opened up my bag. When I took out the notebook, it was undeniable. Someone else had written in the notebook, and I wanted to scream. And faint.

 

The letter went as follows:

 

      Salutations

     Greetings

      Hello, 

 

This letter is cordially addressed to the young woman who happened upon my residence last night. I'm terribly sorry for the great fright that befell you- you are the first guest we have had in a long time. It was a shame you uttered her name. 

 

I hope my letter finds you, and that it finds you in good health. Living people are terribly fragile, after all. I do miss it though. 

 

By all accounts, life in my mistress's mansion is terribly lonely, but I'm afraid I'm confined here. I cannot leave. If it would please you, I would like to strike up a correspondence with you. I understand if this is too sudden or you are too busy, or if you simply are too frightened by what I am. I was once alive as well, and I understand the fear the living have of death and witchcraft. I myself am quite numb to it at this point. 

 

If you would be willing to engage in the exchanging of letters with me, please leave our response (along with a blank sheet of paper and a pen) in the mansion. I can assure you that if you don't utter or write her name she will not appear to you again- though I cannot guarantee one of the house's many residents will not become curious and approach you. Fear not- if you accept my invitation, I will ensure that no harm comes to you when you step foot in the mansion.

 

I sincerely hope to see you again, until then, I bid you ado. 

 

           Best of wishes,

 

George S. Wright

 

My hands were trembling when I put down the letter. It could've been a prank, I thought. Don't jump to wild conclusions.

 

And yet this...George seemed to know about the encounter I had had yesterday, and that I was now very certain I had not  imagined. 

 

I scrubbed at my eyes with one hand I picked the letter up in another. Walking over to my dresser, I opened an empty drawer and laid the letter down. 

 

Tomorrow, I thought. I'll think about this tomorrow.

 

With that, I decided to get started on that Chemistry paper.

 

 

 

      

 

 

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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fearlesscupcake39

Branch: Lucian

This is awesome!!!! 

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Andie 

Time Lady

Proud Atheist.

Team Free Will.

Bow Ties are Cool.

Always Keep Fighting.

Keep Calm And Love CALM.

We Were Born To Make History.

It's  Not A Secret That I'm Just A Reject.

Stay Insane.

 

 

 

 

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onyxwolf284

Branch: Ekaterina

That. Was. Amazing. You are SUCH a good writer!! Oh, my heavens! And it's so RELATEABLE. KEEP GOING! 

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mickey. 

 

no more band-aids on my heartaches.

no more smoke when i burn my pancakes. 

no more drowning in my sorrow. 

with my chin held up there's always better luck

tomorrow. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Thanks guys! I'll do my best to keep the chapters coming 

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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decodingdragon1366

Branch: Ekaterina

Amazing!

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APRIL/RO 

 

 

"I love the DARK"

 

All shall bow down to me, as I am a QUEEN. 

I dream. I write. I read. I live. 

 

 

 

#Freakslikeme<3

#Wearefamily

#Ichosehappy

#ComehomeClev

#I'mnotClay

 

#Iamtitanium

#Callonme

#NeverForgetCyra 

 

 

 

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Thank you!

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Hey guys! Sorry for not updating these past two days, I've been very busy with schoolwork. I plan to release chapter 4 tomorrow though, so I hope you're all ready for the story to continue!

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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onyxwolf284

Branch: Ekaterina

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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mickey. 

 

no more band-aids on my heartaches.

no more smoke when i burn my pancakes. 

no more drowning in my sorrow. 

with my chin held up there's always better luck

tomorrow. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Sorry for the wait, here is Chapter 4! 

 

Chapter 4: Catherine the Great and Alex the Faint

 

I may or may not have been lying to myself for a week about the happenings at the O'Harris manision. I may or may not have left the letter in the drawer, to afraid to open it and see if it was really there. Maybe.

 

Give a girl a break.

 

All that week I was plagued with haunting nightmares of what I had seen. Every night I woke, drenched in sweat, and would be too afraid to close my eyes again. Ephemeral echoing of the phantom woman's screams haunted me at all hours; I listened to music constantly to try to drive it away.

 

It wasn't until Friday, when Mr. Davidson was droning on and on about the life of Catherine the Great and I openly fell asleep in class that Morgan confronted me after school.

 

"What's going on with you?"

 

I jumped at his voice and turned away from my locker to see him standing there, eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curled in a frown. "Nothing. I'm good."

 

Morgan glared at me. "C'mon, Alex, you think I'm gonna buy that? You just jumped when I talked to you."

 

I huffed. "I was startled."

 

"You have never done that before! And, not only that, you fell asleep in history today! In fact, you've been distracted all week! So tell me what's really going on."

 

I looked away, staring intently at the carpeted floor of the school. I couldn't lie to save my life, but maybe he'd buy one of those half truths I'd recently become so fond of...

 

Taking a deep breath, I looked Morgan straight in the eye. "My mom's coming to visit in about a week."

 

Morgan's anger quickly morphed into pity. "Oh, Alex...Why?" 

 

He knew all about my mother. It had been he who had comforted me, a girl he wasn't friends with, after I broke out crying in my fifth grade class because of what was happening at home. I was grateful, he was happy to help, and we had been friends ever since. 

 

I sighed. "I don't know. It was my dad she talked to, not me, and apparently she didn't say." 

 

Morgan pulled me into a hug and I let my head rest on his shoulder. "Do you want me to come over? Hang out?" he rumbled gently. 

 

I nodded, and with a few pats of my back, he let his arms drop back to his sides. I reluctantly did the same. 

 

At my house, we fell into a familiar rhythm. I turned on the tv and went to Netflix, he made some popcorn, and we spent the afternoon on my couch watching Supernatural. I forgot all about the actual paranormal events in my life. 

 

When my father got home from work at 5: 30, he insisted Morgan stay for dinner (burgers), and when Morgan tried to refer to him as "Mr. Smith", he always insisted he call him Andrew. My dad, as you can probably tell, had been fond of him ever since they met. It was 7:30 when Morgan left, my father driving him home.

 

And that was when the distraction was over. Alone in a too-quiet house, I sat at my desk in my room and drummed my fingers on it nervously. My homework lay before me, untouched, because my thoughts were very much focused on the contents in a drawer of the dresser behind me.

 

Flashes of the spectral woman flashed before my eyes, and I rubbed them vigorously. Slamming my hands down on my desk, I defiantly (though trembling) turned around. I barely hesitated before striding across the room and yanking the drawer open, nearly sobbing at the sight of the letter sitting in it innocently. 

 

Reaching in and delicately taking it out, as if it would disappear, I reread the letter. I traced my index finger over the letters, feeling the slight indentation left by a heavy-handed writer. This is real. I'm not imagining things.

 

That night, I drafted and redrafted and carefully edited my response. It was 11: 00 before I went to sleep, having done no homework , but that night I slept peacefully for the first time in a week...

 

Dear Mr. Wright,

 

After a week of considering your offer, I have decided to agree to your request. You seem awfully lonely in that house, yet you mentioned other ghosts, who are they? I don't mean to pry, but if we're going to be pen-pals, we ought to get to know each other a little. So, I guess we can start with the basics. Where did you come from? What's your favorite color? Stuff like that. So, I'll do as you said, and we can do that.

 

Sincerely,

 

      Alex H. Smith

 

PS: I've lived here all my life. My favorite color is red. And the "H" stands for Harper. What does your "S" stand for?

 

Okay, so maybe the letter wasn't that complicated, but when one is communing with the dead, I figured it was good to be careful.

 

This was what I stuffed in a bag, with a fresh notebook and pen for the ghost...George...to write with. Along with that, a jacket, and my flashlight to boot, I set off the next morning after a lonely breakfast of frozen waffles and orange juice while my father was away at work. 

 

Even after having entered it twice by then, you'd think I'd be over my fear of the creepy aura the house gave off, but that was decidedly not the case. As soon as the door creaked open I was furtively casting glances all around, as if I would catch some Scooby- Dooish villain sneaking up from behind. Gotcha!

 

Swinging my bag off my shoulder, I hurriedly placed my response, the notebook, and the pen on the ground in front of the kitchen. When I turned to go, I could have sworn that I saw a shadowy figure quickly duck out of view. I paused and chills ran up my spine, but in the interest of not losing my sanity I did my best to brush it off, leaving quickly after.

 

That night, I finally sat down I did my homework. After it was done, I picked the locket up from where I had left it hanging on my closet doorknob. The questions that had run through my head the night I first got it still remained, and I was now determined to uncover them.

 

So, there you guys go! I hope it's enough to tide y'all over till the next chapter! Have a good day!

 

 

 

 

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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onyxwolf284

Branch: Ekaterina

I'll read it tomorrow!! I can't tonight... O_O My friends and I just had a freaky conversation about ghosts and dreams and stuff... 

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mickey. 

 

no more band-aids on my heartaches.

no more smoke when i burn my pancakes. 

no more drowning in my sorrow. 

with my chin held up there's always better luck

tomorrow. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

A Note on Updates: 

 

I'm going to do my best to post a chapter every other day, giving my self a day in between to draft out how I'd like the chapter to go and polish it the next. If something happens and I can't stick to the schedule, I'll do my best to update you guys on that.

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Chapter 5: 

 

Sunday morning, while I was getting ready to go check the O'Harris mansion for a response, my father knocked on my door. Before I could reach it, he opened it himself, plodding in with a grave look on his face. He held his cellphone in his hand.

 

"It's your mother" he mumbled, eyes cast downward and his voice gruff. I started and, after a pause, shakily plucked it from his hand.

 

It took a few deep breaths for me to be ready to begin. My father watched me for a moment, then turned around and heavily walked out. Once he was gone, I placed the phone to my ear.

 

"Hello?"

 

I did my best to keep my voice steady.

 

"Alex? Is that you?" 

 

Her voice was different than I remebered. Whenever I had thought back to my mother's voice, it had been shrill and whistle-like. Now, even through the phone, there was a certain musical quality to it, curling around me in a gentle ebb and flow, whisking me away to a gentler time of fairy tales and Jiffy Pop and movie nights and quiet jazz.

 

"Yeah," I responded, doing my best to sound uninterested. "What do you want?"

 

There was silence on the other line for a few heartbeats.

 

"I'll be there next Saturday," her voice was suddenly tight. "Just wanted to confirm that with you."

 

I nodded even though she couldn't see me and said nothing. My throat, despite my best efforts, had a lump I couldn't swallow past in it. This was my mother, after five years. Why now? Why at all? I felt moisture building up in my eyes. After a minute, she spoke again.

 

"I'll see you then. Love you, bye." 

 

She hung up. I sat there, her last words echoing in my head. Love you? Love me? A few hot tears made their way down my cheeks, but I made no sound. Wiping them off with my sweater sleeve and blinking a few times, I left my room to go give my dad back his phone.

 

I found my father in the kitchen doing the dishes.

 

"So, what'd she call for?" 

 

I blinked. "She didn't tell you?"

 

He shook his head. "She just wanted to talk to you." I could hear the bitterness in his voice, his longing for an explanation. I wrapped my arms around him from behind while he rinsed dishes in the sink.

 

"She wanted to tell me she'd be here Saturday. I don't know why she's coming though."

 

He nodded but didn't respond. Sighing, I headed for the door. Opening it, I figured I better make an excuse as to why I was leaving.

 

"I'm heading out for awhile to hang out with Sarah. I'll be back in a couple hours."

 

"Alright," he responded with a hoarse voice. "Don't get into any trouble."

 

I nodded, frowning, and walked out, closing the door behind me.

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV

 

 

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cheerywriter18

Branch: Ekaterina

Okay. Some apologies and an explanation are in order.

 

I am not going to be continuing this story.

 

I am extremely, extremely, sorry to anyone who was reading this, but I've been contemplating where I want this story to go for the past few days and I've realized what I had planned for this story is likely too dark for the MB. And I cannot compromise the soul of this story for the guidelines. 

 

For anyone who enjoyed the way I write and would like to see more from me, fear not. I will continue to write on this site, just not this story. I'll do my best to continue my other story and hopefully write others. I have some nice ideas for a short story floating around in my head. 

 

Until then, I bid you adieu.

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"Do what you love. Know your own bone; gnaw at it, bury it, unearth it, and gnaw it still."

 

- Henry David Thoreau

 

EV