The Time Travelers of Cratchit Castle

Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

A Visitor

Once the children were back at Cratchit Castle, the evening lagged. After dinner, Charlotte embroidered, while Fan paged through a book. Will and Michael sat at a table playing checkers.

Bert and Nate stood behind the boys, watching their moves and making comments. Nate pointed to the board with a grin. "Will's going to win."

"No way," said Bert. "Mike's got two kings." 

As Bert pulled his hand from his pocket, his pencil fell out and hit the floor. He bent over to pick it up, then stopped suddenly. Michael had noticed the pencil. He could see it!

"Where did that come from?" Michael asked, peering at the pencil. 

Nate and Bert looked at one another with shock.

Will glanced down. "Don't try to distract me," he said.

"I'm not." Michael picked it up. "It's yellow. The brightest pencil I've ever seen." He stared at it for a moment, then placed it on the table and returned to the game.

"Holy moly!" Nate exclaimed, slapping his hand to his forehead. "How come they can see your pencil but they can't see us?"

Bert shook his head with confusion. "I don't know. This is barmy! We'd better be careful not to drop anything else!"

"What if they start to see us?" cried Nate. "How will we explain we're from the future? They'll put us in a loony bin!"

"Don't panic," said Bert. "They can't see us. It'll be all right." But Bert didn't look so sure.

Charlotte sighed loudly. "This is torture. I can't possibly wait until tomorrow."

"I feel the same way," Michael remarked with a frown, no longer interested in checkers. "I wonder what will happen tomorrow."

"I hope something happens," added Will, jumping Michael's chip on the board. "What if the ghosts don't show themselves?"

"Oh, they must," said Fan. "Madame Chattoway is a gifted mystic. We have to believe that she can summon them."

Charlotte pulled a ribbon from her curls. "I'm going to bed. That will make tomorrow come quicker. Are you coming, Fan?"

"Yes," replied Fan. "Goodnight, Brother. Goodnight, Michael."

The girls went upstairs. The boys went to their bed chamber shortly after.

Nate and Bert decided to stay the night so that they wouldn't miss the séance. They'd only been gone for one day, which was about four hours in their time. Nate's mother and Uncle Fred thought the boys were staying overnight at Roger's, so no one would expect them home until the following day. They went to the boys' bed chamber and settled on the floor in front of the fireplace, using their jackets as pillows.

But Nate couldn't fall asleep. Besides being uncomfortable, he was bothered by the pencil incident. He could tell Bert was too. The boys lay awake, listening to carriages rumble past and the faraway howl of a train whistle. 

Then Nate noticed that Will wasn't sleeping either. He tossed and kicked at the covers. Suddenly, Will sat up and looked over at Michael, who was slumbering soundly. Then he got out of bed.

"Where is he going?" whispered Nate.

"I dunno," answered Bert. "Let's find out."

They followed Will into the hall. Shafts of moonlight pierced the corridor, casting eerie shadows. Cratchit Castle looked frightening in the dark; dismal, and brimming with secrets.

The boys followed Will up to the third floor. Will was walking strangely, as if pulled by an unseen force. Bert gave Nate a worried glance.

Nate's imagination conjured grisly images of murderous pirates who plundered ships and killed  soldiers. Would an angry ghost haunt the manor to protect stolen treasure? Would it harm those who tried to take it? He shuddered.

As they walked, the air in the hallway changed. It became very cold. Nate saw Will shiver as he approached the parlor. The parlor door was closed. Will stopped in front of it, then seemed to snap out of his stupor. He turned to go back downstairs. 

The sound of footsteps caused Will to stop short. The footsteps were clear and distinct, and they were coming closer.

Then the piano in the parlor began to play.

The hair on Nate's forearms stood up. He swallowed, hardly able to breathe. At least he had Bert by his side, but Will was alone in the hall.

Will turn around slowly.

Nate and Bert did too.

The music stopped and now the parlor door was wide open!

Will stood still, mute as a corpse.

In the dim light at the end of the corridor, Nate saw a figure taking shape. It materialized slowly in a gray haze. An unearthly spirit appeared before them. It was the little girl from the photograph!

Will's eyes were wide with fright.

The child stared at him with a woeful expression.

Bert's mouth was agape. Nate trembled, and prayed the specter wouldn't come any closer.

The ghost child opened her mouth to speak. Her voice was soft, and Nate strained to hear her. Slowly, her words made their way to his ears.

"...know."

"...didn't know."

"Didn't know."

She repeated: "They didn't know." 

She was crying.

"Wh-who are you?" Will whispered.

The spirit just shook her head.

Then, in the same manner that she appeared, she disappeared. The wraith dissolved into the air as if she'd never been there at all.

Will blinked and ran in the opposite direction. He bounded down the stairs with Nate and Bert close behind. He raced to Michael's room, jumped into bed, and pulled the covers over himself.

Nate and Bert didn't follow him into the bedchamber. Instead, they ran like lightning to the kitchen. 

With trembling hands, Bert pulled the powder from his pocket and sprinkled it on the doorway. 

"I've had enough of the haunted manor for tonight," he said.

"I'm with you," Nate replied in a shaky voice. "Let's get out of here!"