.:Ghostly Whispers:.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I am going crazy. I must be going crazy. How is it that the name that has been appearing in my dreams every night, like a song replaying in my head, is now painted in what looks like blood on the wall of a 300 year old house? I struggle to think up any reasonable explanations.

I run down the stairs and into my room. I close and lean against the door and try to make sense of things. I feel a mixture of confusion, insanity and fear. I'm breathing heavily and my heart is going faster than I can keep track. I don't like not knowing things. It makes me uneasy. I don't like not understanding things. And this is the least I have ever understood in my entire life. I feel a gripping pain in my chest. It is as if my heart is going too fast for the rest of my body to keep up drawing all the blood too quickly. I see quick flashes of red. I feel dizzy. I try to take deep breaths and calm down. Inhale... Exhale... After who knows how long, I have finally calmed down enough to stand up shakily and think about this logically. I go downstairs to ask my father a question.

"Dad?" I ask, timidly. I hold my hands together to hide their shaking.

"Yes, Bean?" He says, not looking up from the laptop where he is typing an email to his boss.

"Does this town have a library?" I ask. At this he looks up confused. When he sees my face his expression shifts. So much for not giving away my panic.

"Ari, isn't it a bit late for that? It's almost 9:00 o'clock, the library probably isn't even open. Are you ok?" His face is painted with a look of concern.

"I'm fine. Just curious." I don't want to worry him. He's too busy for that right now.

"Are you sure? I didn't think all that stuff about your mom would rile you up this much."

"It's not that Dad, really. I just miss libraries. I haven't been to a library since we left Stat'." I'm probably not that convincing, but I have to try.

"Hm." He says, still not convinced. But I guess me wanting to go to a library isn't that strange for him.

"You can go tomorrow morning."

* * *

The next morning I get dressed quickly and get ready to head out the door to the library. All of my fearful feelings from the night before have faded into a strong sense of determination. I will find a reasonable explanation and then I will realize that I'm just overreacting.

The library is closer to my house than the school was. It rained yesterday, so now the air is humid and thick with moisture. I can feel the wet air on my face as I walk the 20 minute walk to Sleepy Hollow library (Ugh, again with the name stamp.) I hate the humidity. It hangs in the air like my impending doom. It weighs me down and makes my hair feel wet and greasy. I begin to regret my decision and think about maybe going to the library another day before holding strong and deciding that no amount of lousy water vapor can stop me from finding the truth.

By the time I make it to the Library I am completely ready to go back to bed. I go up to the librarian at the front desk. She looks young, and her sleek blond hair is pulled back into a short, neat ponytail. Her prim and posh clothes fit well on her thin frame. When I come up to her, head tilts down and her golden-rimmed glasses shift down to the tip of her nose.

"May I help you?" She asks. She clearly thinks she's better than me.

"Yes, please. Do you have any records of current and previous town residents? If so, how are they organized?" I ask, trying to match her business-like manner.

"Of course we have records. They are organized alphabetically by the residents last name, and stored in the back, behind the true crime novels." I am slightly disappointed at this but not surprised.

"What if I only know a certain person's first name?" I ask. She scoffs.

"What do you want me to do about it? Spend my whole day searching for some random person?"

"No. You won't have to do any work. That will be reserved for me." The woman seems angry at my response.

"Don't sass me, young lady," She says indignantly and with a hint of annoyance behind her golden-rimmed glasses.

"You don't sass me,"—-I look down at her name tag—"Beverly." The woman has clearly had enough by now and lead me to the file cabinets while disapprovingly muttering under her breath; "Children these days..." I don't comment. I have already gotten far enough on her nerves

"So what is this name?" She asks.

"Jasper."

"Spelled?"

"J-A-S-P-E-R." I am a bit annoyed by her question. This is taking so long!

Eventually she hands me a large stack of manilla envelopes, each filled with varying amounts of paper, and I go to sit down at an empty table. At first it is fun. Especially some of the people's ridiculous lifes. One man, by the name of Jasper Smith, died at the age of 89 on his birthday and survived only by his wife and son, Jimothy. I mean, who names their son Jimothy? Another Jasper by the last name, "Murray-Wilkins'' died at only 14, after being forced to participate in the Pacer Test by a rude P.E. teacher, who apparently knew of his severe asthma. The boy got to 167 laps before he was hit by the climax of his asthma attack and choked forcefully on air. An eye doctor, named Jasper Kinishi, is said to be only survived by his cat Niburā, and then in the "Cause of Death" column, it says "Cause of Death: Niburā". But after a while, the endless sea of Jaspers becomes too much for me. Being honest, I don't even know what I was looking for! It starts feeling like a horrible and morbid act. The names came into one ear and out the other. Jasper Lowell, Jasper Kowalski, Jasper O'Conner, Jasper Smyth, Jasper Florginson... The Jaspers were getting almost as repetitive as they are in my dreams! I almost give up before stumbling upon a new file about a Jasper Winston. He went missing 79 years ago while on a job. No body or traces were ever found. He was survived by his fiancé Felicia Carmine who he was supposed to marry only a week later. He was 17 years old when he went missing, and he lived on my grandmother's street. I am sure he is the one I am looking for.

I walk back to Beverly as she sits at the front desk, scrolling on the library's computer, looking at images of acrylic nails and hairstyles.

"Hello?" She is startled by my sudden appearance and quickly closes her tabs.

"Oh, it's you again." She says, with clear disdain in her voice. "What do you need now?"

"I need files on Felicia Carmine." I say unbothered by her annoyance.

"Hmm..." She says typing something into the library system. "Do you mean maiden name Carmine?" She asks.

"Um... Possibly." She finds the file and hands it to me. It is the correct person and they live only two blocks away from where I am now. They are now married to a new man and have the surname "Buford".

"Thank you." I say to the Librarian before leaving the building.

I am walking to Felicia's house. I don't know why or what I will find there, but I do hope that she will have answers on who this Jasper is and how they are involved with me—-why they are appearing in my dreams or what the bloody name on my wall means. I open up my phone to write and write a quick haiku.

Blood on my house walls

Mysteries leading to more

When will it all end?

* * *