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Ghost In The Bathroom

Author's note: I was inspired to write this piece because of a rumor I heard in third grade that a ghost...  Show full author's note »
Author's note:

I was inspired to write this piece because of a rumor I heard in third grade that a ghost haunted the elementary school bathroom. I've always loved ghost stories, so I decided to write one!

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Chapters:   « Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 Next »


You continue sobbing for a long time. You hear the bell ring and you don’t care. You just sit in that stall with your bony knees pressed against your chest, huddling and accidentally impaling yourself with a pen, watching the ink and blood mix in a strange beautifully morbid swirl.

“Don’t do that.” A voice came from outside the stall, a strange, calming, childlike voice. You freeze, your pen clattering to the ground. “I don’t like it when people get hurt. I hope you’re not naked, I’d like to come in and keep you company.”

“Who are you?” You ask, your voice still choked with tears. You unlock the door and push it open to see a young girl, about your age, standing in a too-big collared white shirt with a too-big dark blue dress over it. Her black hair is wispy and long and swishes down to the middle of her back. You envy her hair. Yours can never grow much longer than your shoulders.

She walks right over to you - something with the way she walks bothers you - and sits down cross-legged in the middle of the bathroom floor. “Well, aren’t you going to come and join me?”
Your sister told you not to talk to strangers, but this girl seems nice. Unlike the other kids. You warily plop down next to her. She automatically reaches out and grabs your injured arm. Her hands are unnaturally cold and you feel a shiver go through you as her fingers brush your wound. “You really should wash that,” she says. “You might get ink poisoning and that would be scary.” She leads you to the sinks and turns on the faucet, thrusting your arm under the water. She pumps some soap out of the soap dispenser and rubs it on your injury, making sure to get off every last trace of ink.

“My name’s Tessa Bloom.” you say for some reason. “How ‘bout you?”

“I’m Rissa,” she replies, not looking up from your injury. She then turns to you. “The cut itself isn’t that big. You don’t need a bandage.”

You look at her and hope for the best. You fling your arms around her and hug her out of pure desperation and want for a friend that’s your own age. She’s so cold - you feel her stiffen under your touch then melt into the hug, her arms seeming to sink into your back making you even more chilly. “Why are you helping me?” you ask, finally breaking away from her.

“I saw what those girls did to you,” she says. “I was bullied too. I don’t want it to happen to you.” She pushes her hair out of her face and blinks at you with unsettlingly blue eyes.

“Well,” you say, dusting the soil off of your backpack. “I should get going. I want to get back to class.” You start to head towards the door but her arm shoots out faster than normal arms should.

“Don’t go!” Her voice is pleading and desperate. “It gets lonely in here.”

“You can come with me, silly. Don’t you need to get back to class?” you say, offering an outstretched hand.

“I can’t go this far from the bathroom,” she says. “I would need to draw off of your energy to leave since there’s not outside source of energy created through some form of necromancy, and drawing off of your energy would make you sleepy. I don’t want that.”

“What do you mean, ‘draw off of my energy’? Rissa…” Your voice trails off as she hangs her head, staring at her bare feet. “Rissa…” You stare at her, at the dress, her hands, her face, her smudgy cheeks.

“I’m dead,” she whispers.

You freeze. You feel entirely numb and cold and it’s not because your new best friend is a ghost. You then think. At least you have a friend, right? And you’ve read books about friendly ghost companions. Maybe this might be fun?

You take her cold dead hand and press it against your living one. “I don’t mind if you’re dead. I’ll stay here a bit longer,” you say even though you feel guilty for missing class. You then pull out a stuffed animal. “Would you like to play a game?”

And that’s how your friendship started.

Chapters:   « Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 Next »

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