Imaginary Ghost

May 16, 2010
By Oprea_Chica BRONZE, Rockford, Michigan
Oprea_Chica BRONZE, Rockford, Michigan
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"If adventures will not befall a young lady in her own village, she must seek them abroad..." Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

My knuckles were turning white as I passed by town square. The blood drained from my body. I couldn’t control the fear from creeping over my shoulder. It was far behind me now and I started calming down. I was freaked out. I was far away now, it slowly was pushed to the back of my mind, for now.

I was on my way over to Dillon’s. I had to apologize for last night. I pulled into his drive way and turned off my car. The silence was like a fear, one that I couldn’t avoid. I stepped out of my car and walked up to Dillon’s front door. I knocked hard three times and waited. It was a few second before he opened the door.

“Chad, what are you doing here?” he asked looking a bit drowsy.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry about last night, it was completely uncalled for,” he looked at me, nodded and let me in. I sat down on the couch. Dillon wasn’t in the living room. I heard a loud popping noise and a sizzle. To go along with that some not so loud curse words. He walked back out and sat down on the chair across from me eating macaroni and cheese.

“Dillon.” he looked up, “I have to tell you something about last night. After I was kicked out of the bar,” he put down his bowl and sat forward, “I couldn’t find my keys, thank God, so I decided to walk home. You know that my house is past the fountain in the middle of town,” he nodded, “so I became thirsty. I walked right up to the fountain and started to drink out of it.

“In the middle of my spree, or whatever, the water became really thick, a goop trickling down my throat . It didn’t even taste like water anymore. I looked up and the whole fountain was dripping with this red stuff, which I’m assuming was blood,” I stopped a moment, horrified by the memory, but I couldn’t remember much of the details about that., “I can’t remember much until the whispering started. It was saying things like that I couldn’t understand. But then it said something like watch out you jerk or you’re going to die. It was a low voice that I could barely hear. I started running. There were foot steps behind me but I wasn’t paying much attention.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Do you know how crazy you sound?” Dillon questioned with wide eyes. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I didn’t want to be crazy.

“I’m not done. Hear it all before you make any comments,” I cleared my throat and he shook his head, “ I fell, yeah I fell, I remember, the ground hurt under me. It was crumbly through. Like it was about to fall. I got back up and ran all the way home. Not even stopping. I locked myself in the bathroom and that’s where I woke up this morning. With the worst hangover. “

Dillon stayed there for a minute. He wasn’t saying anything I didn’t know what to do or say. We sat there for about ten minutes without saying one word to each other. He glanced up at me, “so are you saying you saw or encountered a ghost? “ I stared at him.


“That doesn’t make any sense, you don’t believe in that kind of supernatural stuff.”

“I didn’t until last night. Why are you being this way? Just nod and say okay, it’s not like I can prove it, technically.”

“Exactly. You can’t prove it. You sound insane. Nobody ever died to hunt that place,” he rolled his eyes at me, “you were drunk you probably just imagined it.”

That was it for me. I stood up, “I’ll prove it to you, something is hunting that place, or me,” with that I walked out of his house and got into me car and drove home.

The internet didn’t do much. It was hard to find out dates and such. With that I decide that the next day I would go to town hall and look in the archives.

I pulled in front of the town hall the very next day. I walked into the building. It smelled like paper and cleaning supplies. I went to the front desk and saw Mrs. Wallace sitting behind the counter. “What can I do for you today, Chad?” she said to me while I was pushing on the counter.

“Um… would you mind letting me look through the town archives on deaths, or murders that took place in the town?” she grinned a crooked grin.

“Right this way.” She led me way back to the last part of the building. Taking twists and turns that I wouldn’t dare try to find my own way back. As we went farther the lights became dimmer and dimmer. When Mrs. Wallace shut the door once the fluorescents over head shut off and turned themselves back on. It was when I started too think that we could go on forever like this did Mrs. Wallace announce, “Here we are, in the back archives. If you want to find things on unsolved deaths you go look right over there,” she was pointing to a bright corner. Then she turned and left.

I quickly tottered over and opened the first drawer and pick up the first one.

Donald Aarbone

Male, 82,

March 9, 1927

September 14, 2009

Died of old age, while sleeping

Each and every one of the information cards was an index card typed on a type writer. Town Hall had a computer, I knew that, but Mrs. Wallace was an older woman, this was probably the way they did when she first started working. She was keeping tradition, I guess. That’s what you get in a town of 990 people.

It took me hours to sort through them all. I was sitting on the floor, dry and tan dust covered my jeans. The information drawer laying next to me.

I had been sitting there for about four hours until I came upon a card that read,

Jason Yamagata

Male, 22

February 11, 1883

July 12, 1905

Alcohol poisoning, towns square

That was the only one that I had seen that died outside off a hospital or home. I stood up, goose bumps spread across my entire body. I knew that it was him, a gut feeling, telling me that this was my… I didn’t even know what it was.

I grabbed the card and put everything back. I ran up to the front desk, “Mrs. Wallace,” a yelled across the room, “Do you know what happened to this man?” I handed her the card.

“Oh yes, I know. This is a bit before my time, but it was a story that I have heard once or twice in my youth. Some man, Jason Yamagata, got drunk at the bar. He drove onto the grass, got out of his car and started throwing pennies at the fountain. He had just broken up with his girlfriend and was wishing he was dead. He collapsed after he trough the penny in. Alcohol poisoning, just like the card says,” she paused for a minute and looked up at me, “they say he protects the idiots of this town. Or at least the idiots at the bar,” I took the card back. Looking down at it, “So, you encountered the ghost didn’t cha?”

The author's comments:
I wrote this for my creative writting class. We had to write ghost stories. I think mine wasnt as sacry as the rest. It seemed more "Twilight Zone" but I recieved a good grade.

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