The girl on the Train tracks

I walked back to my house in the dark (I would say back home, but, it doesn't feel like a home. Just a house, of which I exist in) and got myself a drink of water, lighting an oil lamp and a few candles too. After I had finished, I took out a book from an old bookshelf entitled; beginnings and ends and took it upstairs to read in bed.

I was reading and an unusually fast pace for me, as I was quite a slow reader. But I checked my pocket watch frequently, believing I had been reading for hours on end, when in fact I had only been entertaining myself with the book for just under an hour. I was already on chapter ten so I decided to slow down a bit; it was only nine o'clock after all. I continued reading and had finished the book by eleven o'clock. I was not tired by this time, so I brought the book back to the shelf and changed into my night gown. I was still not tired, but I went to bed anyway and had to force my self to sleep. It was an uncomfortable slumber, which I tossed and turned frequently.

I was awoken by a loud crash, coming from somewhere downstairs. I checked the time; twelve minutes past three in the morning. I thought at first it was from outside, so I checked out the window. It was pitch black, I couldn't see a thing. I didn't want to go outside, because it was dark and cold and ghostly, so I assumed everything was OK outside to avoid going outside, lit a candle, and put on my slippers. I nervously crept downstairs to check the house for intruders. I entered a room that was completely empty, apart from a bureau with a white sheet over it, and a chair, which when I entered the room I noticed was tipped over. It must have been what caused the crash I heard. But how? I'm sure it was upright and steady when I last saw it. It wasn't even that close to the bureau. I didn't want to enter the room; it had an eery sense to it; but I felt I had to, to investigate. So I did. I crept over to the bureau and removed the white sheet. Why, I don't know. I no longer knew what I was doing or why. When I removed the sheet, there was a piece of paper on the desk, and I noticed a pencil on the floor. On the paper, in child-like, messy writing; barely legible, was a simple sentence. On the last letter a long line in pencil which clearly took force and pressure to the paper followed it. However the message wrote:

I'm sorry.

As soon as I read it, I heard another loud crash from the room opposite, like a piece of glassware had smashed onto the floor. I jumped in shock and turned, and picked up the candle, creeping cautiously to the source of the noise.

I entered the room to find a bottle of ink spilt over the floor, the glass pot shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor at the centre of the spillage. The ink had trickled, spreading outwards. But at the ends of the trickles, I watched as an invisible hand wrote in the ink, it continuing to run past the lettering and destroy it, but the message was loud and clear:

Save yourself. Get out.

The words wracked my brain until I could almost hear them being spoken by the messenger. I could see a face telling me this, and I thought I was imagining it until I saw her.

Her. The girl in the photograph, Maria, the Bed and Breakfast owner's daughter. I saw Ebonique.

She underlined her inky message with her finger, and stood up, her eyes not leaving my frozen body. She was so... Beautiful, but she had a big bruise on her cheek which was ever so slightly swollen. She walked towards me, slowly, and stood there, watching my eyes dance between her and the message she had written on the floor. She studied me and waited for me to act on the message, which, because I was totally frozen with fear, I could not. When I did not act on her message, I saw her face anger, and still blood boil.

She screamed her message at me, and began to float, just like a stereotypical ghost, until she was taller than me and made herself seem more intimidating.

"GET OUT!" She screamed at me, repeating herself, circling me quickly and angrily. Her face was inches away from mine and her hair was manic, and her eyes and checks were drenched in tears. I felt windswept and terrified, totally at the mercy of my poltergeist, frozen in my tracks. She screamed until she wept at her own words and got quieter, and she sank back down to the ground, and walked away from me shamefully. She began circling the room, and she repeated the rest of her messages. "Save yourself. I'm sorry. Save... yourself.... Sorry..... Save.... Sorry" until they were faint whispers and she was curled into a ball in the corner, crying to herself. She dissolved from view and I could not see her.

I walked over to the spot she was in and made sure she was gone, and waited a while incase she came back, but she did not. I stared at my ink stained flooring and the message written in it, and pondered on what to do next. It had haunted me. I didn't know why Ebonique had tried to contact me how she did, or if it was just my tiredness, but it had mortified me and for the short term, I was taking the message. I put on a jacket, got some day clothes into a bag and walked to the B&B, at half past four in the morning. It was almost light, but I wouldn't dare spend the rest of the night in that house, especially with the risk of ghost threats.