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18
You inhale slowing letting your chest rise and fall. Your meditation class from back at school kick in and you control your anger. You
students are full of bubbly excitement and when you find them they tell you they are looking for a ghost. You are taken aback by this
statement as you have always been told these creatures don’t exist. You’ve never really believed in ghosts before, but why the hell
not. You’ve heard this story before and you have nothing else to do tonight but watch old reruns of your favorite shows. You listen to
the kids as they talk about this ghost, they can’t seem to decide where the ghost will be. You sigh irritably, shivering in the sudden
cold. As you rub your goose-bump riddled arms, one of the boys stops abruptly.
“It’s cold…
really
cold. Doesn’t that mean that a ghost is near?” He starts excitedly, grabbing the arms of the two boys beside him.
One of them shrugs him off. “Don’t be stupid! How does
that
work?”
If it wasn’t so cold, you would berate them for arguing, but you can’t seem to stop your teeth from chattering.
“I don’t know, man. But that’s what the horror movies say, right?” The first boy argues back.
“Yeah,
no
. Come on, those things are called fiction for a reason!”
“So, what the hell are you doing here, then?!” The first boy’s voice rises an octave.
“
I’m
here because you all dragged me here! It's dark, and cold, and I
want to go home
!”
“Oh, are you scared? Chicken! Why don’t you run home to mummy, then?”
“You- I am
not
scared! I’m just tired of your stories and I have better things to do than chase your idiotic ghost!”
By now, the two are both yelling and look close to blows. The kids around them watch with barely disguised interest and anticipation.
The first boy opens his mouth to take a shot back, and you open your mouth to stop their fighting.
“Um… guys?” The third boy stammers. His voice seems to shrink back into his throat. This makes you and the other children look up.
“Th-there’s something over there…”
Your head snaps up to look in the shadows. A faint light drifts behind the emerald willows. You freeze, adrenaline coursing through
your veins, as the light shines through the willow fronds. It appears artificial in the dying sunlight. The light source drifts through the
willows with terrifying stillness. The willows hardly rustle as the light moves ever closer. Some of the girls clutch one another’s arms
and the boys huddle closer. You step in front of them, in a half-baked attempt at courage.
The source of light is only shielded by one cascading willow, and it draws nearer still. You shuffle backwards and the children mirror
your actions.
A towering, hairy beast glides from the shadows, a soft and supernatural light outlining its features.
You open your mouth to warn the children, threaten the creature, say something helpful,
anything
, but instead a blood-curdling
scream bubbles up your throat and escapes, slicing through the cool night air.
The beast flinches and fades into the willows from where it emerged. A feral growl escapes its curled lips, confirming your suspicions
that the beast is indeed not human. The light drifts further away until it disappears entirely, the only remainder imprinted on the backs
of the witnesses’ eyelids. You and the children stand there in a shocked silence, until at last you find your voice.