Ghost Hunt [HOLD]

Chapter 3 - I Only Wanted a Simple Life

Chapter 3 ● I Only Wanted a Simple Life

               

                I securely fastened my book bag’s strap over one shoulder, before kneeling down to plop my bottom on the low stoop before my front door. Reaching out with two fingers I grasped onto the ends of both my black dress shoes and slipped a foot after another into them. I straightened up and slightly shifted my feet to fit snuggly into my shoes. I avoided looking up, instead deciding to look downward, at my shoes.

Grayden stood hovering over me, arms bent casually to grasp the back of his head. He leaned back carelessly, his eyes closed, screening those dark, brown eyes. He was waiting, patiently, I knew, for me to head on out. I wasn’t quite sure if he was going to follow me; after all, I hadn’t been outside since the accident. Now that it was finally Monday, I guess I was relieved to finally be out of the house, but still …

                I glanced up, out of the corner of my eye, catching his drifting body. Every time I allowed myself to look at him, I thought of yesterday’s events. What with the printer, and him speaking to me, I had been in a difficult position. When I thought back to it, maybe it was for the best that I just let the printer fall, and retreat upstairs as fast as my skinny little legs could scurry.

The name, if you were wondering. I’m not sure how I caught on to it. He hadn’t told me, I don’t recall it anyway. But somehow … I just knew things about him. And whenever I thought of him, the name Grayden popped up in my head. I tried to push it away most times, but it was just one of those frustrating things. Like when you’re parents tell you not to see a boy, you obviously want to see them first thing right? It was like that with him, I caught on to these … facts. His age, where he was born, his name; I got the feeling if I tried harder, I might be able to get more, but that was the thing, I didn’t want to try.

His eyelids suddenly drew up, opening, and my own eyes darted away. I huffily buttoned my uniformed navy jacket and started for the door. Once out into the chilly fall air I turned only to close the door behind me stiffly, before turning around, and running the familiar path out through our front gate to the silent dawn street. I closed my eyes tightly, relying on my conscious recognition, to walk meticulously across my front yard safely.

Foolishly, I put too much faith in my own self balance, just as I was out of our gateway; I stumbled slightly on the miniscule ledge connected to the gate, on the ground.

“Ah!” I gasped, feeling my feet blunder across the asphalt.

Once I was securely upright, with a most likely sprained ankle; I narrowed my eyes and looked behind me at the foul gate ledge. Note to self? Talk to dad about removing the front gate? It wasn’t like we could keep anything out, what with them being able to float through walls.

                I turned back to the street, and immediately whipped a hand up to shield my lips. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of the spirits flooding the space in front of my home.

Don’t scream, don’t panic!

 I sidled slowly sideways. Hoping not to startle the nearest one, a man that appeared to be middle-aged, he held a livid suitcase, and was wearing a business suit. He would have been any normal person except for the evident notations around his neck; they seemed to be … scratching marks, as if someone with long nails had attempted to strangle him.

Attempted and apparently succeeded, seeing that he was obviously quite … dead. He floated, a few inches off the ground, and he was hazy, his whole figure, if I squinted I could see quite clearly, through him.