The One Who Cared | Teen Ink

The One Who Cared

June 19, 2015
By SydneyHaulenbeek BRONZE, Virginia Beach, Virginia
SydneyHaulenbeek BRONZE, Virginia Beach, Virginia
2 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
When you write, it doesn't matter the order you say your words in. You can change that later. It only the words matter, and the way you say them.

I bolted up straight. It was just a dream, just a dream, I told myself. But why did it seem so vivid then I asked myself. Why me? I had never been one for horror movies, and I hadn’t lately ether. Then why was I having these bad dreams all of a sudden? I layed back down and rolled over so I was facing the door. Everything had been all jumbled and mixed up ever since we moved. Sure the new place was OK and the kids were friendly, but I hadn’t found a real friend yet. I rolled back on to my back and stared at my ceiling. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I was standing in the clearing again, the one in the wood. I kept my eyes shut, knowing what I would see if I opened them.  I felt frozen to the ground, yet not cold. Not yet that is. I heard the rustling of the wind in the trees and I knew. She was here. I slowly opened my eyes. She was here. I watched as the ghost girl slowly walked towards me, her pale feet crushing the dead leaves on the ground. But how could that be? I had asked when I first had this dream. But now I had come to the conclusion that it was some sort of Spirit Bridge where she could almost be alive again, but not quite. The thought still scared me though. I was back at Spirit Bridge. Again. As she got closer and closer I was able to see her more clearly. She was pale, but I expected all ghosts to be pale so that didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that she kept coming back. She had dark curly locks of jet-black hair that had probably been dark brown or black when she was still alive and a lacey nightgown. I had never seen her in anything other then the beautiful lacey nightgown, so I figured that she had died in it, but I wasn’t positive. She continued to walk across the clearing in tell she bumped into something. I couldn’t see it what ever it is, but she couldn’t get through it. I heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Momentarily I wondered what would happen if I tried to step through the barrier. “Shush,” I told myself, not realizing that I had said it out loud. I clapped my hands over my mouth as the work echoed around the clearing. This was the first time I had said anything in one of these dreams. The ghost girl smiled then began to talk. I slowly, shakily stepped forwards toward the barrier to see if I could hear her. The ghost girl continued to talk, only in more urgent tones, but I still couldn’t hear her. I opened up my hands, which I realized I had been clenching in fists, and touched the barrier. A huge electrical shock went up my arm and through my body, and I was flung through the air. As I flew I looked at the Ghost girl and screamed, thinking that she had given me the shock. She put her hands over her mouth and fled, glancing backwards every few seconds as she ran. I landed with a thump, and as I watched the clearing melted away before my eyes. I woke up in my Mom’s flat in New York. I rolled over and groggily dragged my self out of bed, while rubbing the sand out of my eyes.

The author's comments:

I have always enjoys messing around with peoples superstitions of the paraanormal world, and can't stand the 'belive in everything' sort of people. For me it takes fact and proof and can hold in my hand, (although I'm sure i will never get it) but i still enjoy writing ghost storys simply to prove that fact that i may not beilve in them, but everything can be possiable. 

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