William.
14 - Max
A lure? Like … a fishing lure? Were fishing lures even invented back in those olden days?
I admit, I was kind of disappointed. Call me slow, but I couldn’t understand why a ghost would be making the effort to contact me from the “other side” about a stupid thing like a fishing lure? Maybe there was a different meaning to the word back then. Or maybe it was made out of gold or diamonds or something. I wanted to ask John why he cared about it so much, but stopped myself before the words could come out. If it were possible for a ghost to be sensitive, this one clearly was. And the last thing I wanted to do was piss him off again. So in the end I just agreed.
“Sure, I’ll help you get your lure back,” I whispered to the empty room. “Just tell me where you want me to look.”
One by one, the wet letters slithered through the pages of the book.
Itsburiedinthegarden
The garden? That was a pretty big area to search for something so small. I needed him to be more specific if I was going to find it. “Okay. Where in the garden?”
I kept my eyes glued to the pages and waited for his answer. Nothing happened. I waited for a long time, almost afraid to move so I wouldn’t scare him away. But there was no response at all.
Crap! I must have upset him again.
Just when I thought that I’d gone and scared him off for good, I felt a sudden breeze brush by my face. And then there was a loud creak and a bang, like the sound of the front door opening and closing. The hairs on my arms rose up like an army of soldiers standing to attention. Jumping to my feet, I raced to the library door.
“Did you see someone just walk out of there?” I asked Caroline’s grandmother, pausing for a second by the front desk. She shook her head, the folds in her neck swinging like curtains.
“Speak up, young man. And stop running in this library.” Her words were slick with disapproval. Okay, whatever!
A moment later, Caroline walked out of the parlour carrying an armload of books.
“Hey, did you just see someone leave the library?” I demanded. Her eyes grew big with surprise; two giant blue marbles.
“Why are you still here, Max? I thought you’d left for school already.”
I darted over to her side and lowered my head so that our faces were just inches apart. It was hard, but I managed to force myself to ignore her delicious smell. “Listen to me very carefully,” I commanded. “Did you see anybody walk out of the library in the last minute or two?”
All of the colour slowly drained out of her cheeks. “W-what are you talking about?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing ghosts now, too?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question without breaking my promise to John. So, I just pretended like I didn’t even hear it. “Forget it. I gotta go.”
Charging past her, I threw open the door and headed outside. The sunshine hit me like a punch in the face. It was so bright, I had to cover my eyes to see properly. I walked around the garden, searching for … I didn’t know exactly. A person? A ghost? A man with a fishing pole? But there was no one there. The gardens were empty and quiet. The buzz of a nearby cricket, the soft hush of leaves blowing in the wind, and the low hum of morning traffic from nearby Yonge Street were the only sounds around. When I reached the back of the house, I turned and slowly began to walk back in the direction I came from. The garden was completely deserted.
Idiot! Who exactly did you think you were chasing out here?
And then suddenly to my left, there was a rapid rustling sound like the crumpling of dry leaves. A moment later, a little black squirrel darted out from behind a patch of balsam and ran in front of me. My eyes followed him as he rushed down the garden path. That’s when I noticed the circular puddle of water slowly spreading across the pavement next to my shoes. I froze, my arms and legs like blocks of petrified wood.
Where’s the water
14 - Max
A lure? Like … a fishing lure? Were fishing lures even invented back in those olden days?
I admit, I was kind of disappointed. Call me slow, but I couldn’t understand why a ghost would be making the effort to contact me from the “other side” about a stupid thing like a fishing lure? Maybe there was a different meaning to the word back then. Or maybe it was made out of gold or diamonds or something. I wanted to ask John why he cared about it so much, but stopped myself before the words could come out. If it were possible for a ghost to be sensitive, this one clearly was. And the last thing I wanted to do was piss him off again. So in the end I just agreed.
“Sure, I’ll help you get your lure back,” I whispered to the empty room. “Just tell me where you want me to look.”
One by one, the wet letters slithered through the pages of the book.
Itsburiedinthegarden
The garden? That was a pretty big area to search for something so small. I needed him to be more specific if I was going to find it. “Okay. Where in the garden?”
I kept my eyes glued to the pages and waited for his answer. Nothing happened. I waited for a long time, almost afraid to move so I wouldn’t scare him away. But there was no response at all.
Crap! I must have upset him again.
Just when I thought that I’d gone and scared him off for good, I felt a sudden breeze brush by my face. And then there was a loud creak and a bang, like the sound of the front door opening and closing. The hairs on my arms rose up like an army of soldiers standing to attention. Jumping to my feet, I raced to the library door.
“Did you see someone just walk out of there?” I asked Caroline’s grandmother, pausing for a second by the front desk. She shook her head, the folds in her neck swinging like curtains.
“Speak up, young man. And stop running in this library.” Her words were slick with disapproval. Okay, whatever!
A moment later, Caroline walked out of the parlour carrying an armload of books.
“Hey, did you just see someone leave the library?” I demanded. Her eyes grew big with surprise; two giant blue marbles.
“Why are you still here, Max? I thought you’d left for school already.”
I darted over to her side and lowered my head so that our faces were just inches apart. It was hard, but I managed to force myself to ignore her delicious smell. “Listen to me very carefully,” I commanded. “Did you see anybody walk out of the library in the last minute or two?”
All of the colour slowly drained out of her cheeks. “W-what are you talking about?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re seeing ghosts now, too?”
I didn’t know how to answer that question without breaking my promise to John. So, I just pretended like I didn’t even hear it. “Forget it. I gotta go.”
Charging past her, I threw open the door and headed outside. The sunshine hit me like a punch in the face. It was so bright, I had to cover my eyes to see properly. I walked around the garden, searching for … I didn’t know exactly. A person? A ghost? A man with a fishing pole? But there was no one there. The gardens were empty and quiet. The buzz of a nearby cricket, the soft hush of leaves blowing in the wind, and the low hum of morning traffic from nearby Yonge Street were the only sounds around. When I reached the back of the house, I turned and slowly began to walk back in the direction I came from. The garden was completely deserted.
Idiot! Who exactly did you think you were chasing out here?
And then suddenly to my left, there was a rapid rustling sound like the crumpling of dry leaves. A moment later, a little black squirrel darted out from behind a patch of balsam and ran in front of me. My eyes followed him as he rushed down the garden path. That’s when I noticed the circular puddle of water slowly spreading across the pavement next to my shoes. I froze, my arms and legs like blocks of petrified wood.
Where’s the water
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