Ghost Story

I guess I'm in my storytelling prime right now! :P 

Here's a story I wrote for my ninth grade English project. Hope you like it. :) Do comment if there are any errors. Would love your feedback! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Acclaimed lawyer, Zacharias Phillips and his equally celebrated orthodontist wife, Anna Phillips’ teenage daughter, Victoria was pretty famous too. 

She wasn’t famous because her father served as an excellent lawyer to America’s most controversial cases. Nor was she famous because of her mother who had set the teeth of the children of Hollywood’s A-Lister celebrities. She was famous because she had sung record-breaking songs, tunes of which, people still danced to.

Victoria – or Vicky, as she was popularly known as – had started singing since she could talk. She sang in the bathroom, she sang whenever she was lonely, she sang whenever she wanted to. Singing flowed in her blood.

Her voice was heavenly. When she sang, the words… they hypnotize you and you slip away from reality in a matter of seconds. Vicky Phillips’s albums were sold with as much quickness as one sells lottery tickets. People loved her and loved listening to her songs.

Vicky had come down to the town of Thomas Woods for shooting a music video. Thomas Woods was a beautiful little town with big white houses, friendly streets, and weekly campfires at the edges of the woodland situated at the north of the town. People of Thomas Woods protected their forests because they were deeply in awe of their town’s founder, Old Tom – a man of native American lineage. He had worked tremendously hard to conserve and tend forests around what was known as the town.    

Vicky and her crew were living in the mayor’s house. It was a handsome building completely in white. It was spacious enough to accommodate Vicky and her crew.

The journalists and the people of Thomas Woods were often cluttered around the Mayor’s Manor, trying hard to spy on the famous singer. Girls and boys climbed up trees to watch every move of Vicky Phillips. Girls were interested in Vicky’s impeccable sense of fashion and boys were interested in Vicky’s striking looks.

Vicky had blonde straight hair that was reached her waist, her eyes were the color of the sea, her nose was long and she had a little pout in her lower lip. Additionally, Vicky was smart. She knew how to handle the press and her record company people.

Vicky was, if you would allow me to phrase so, flawlessly perfect on the outside. But inside, she knew that people wouldn't do anything that would make Vicky Phillips mad. Yes, Vicky was presumptuous. She was awfully vain of everything she had.

Vicky would often go out to the woods to find peace and quiet. Many boys and girls would follow her – out of curiosity. She yelled at those who fell from the trees and insult them until tears were flowing from their eyes like Niagara Falls.  

How little she knew that someone would kill her.

Vicky was found dead in her room in the Mayor’s house. This had created some gigantic waves amongst the press, the music fraternity and entire United States of America.

The local police was set up to investigate the matter. Thomas Wood High School had sent one of its school’s newspaper reporters to write a piece on their paper, The Wolves’ Pack. It was a risky job, yet the whole thing had happened in their small town, right?

Juliette Porter, dark-haired and grey eyed teenaged journalist, arrived at the doorstep of the Mayor’s House for her article. Juliette had worn her best clothes and was even wearing fake thick framed black glasses to look serious and mature. But to be very honest, Juliette looked like a kid trying out his grandpa’s reading glasses.

Juliette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and pressed the elaborate bell twice. There was a faint sound of ‘ding-dong’ and the doors of the Mayor’s house opened to reveal a snooty looking butler glaring down at her.

“Who are you, miss?” The butler asked in a nasty voice. Juliette had the feeling that he did not even wish to call her ‘miss’.

“My name is Juliette Porter.” The seventeen-year-old teenager said something that she’d rehearsed all along. “I am from Thomas Wood High School and the school’s sent me here to –”

“Investigate on the unfortunate murder of Miss Phillips,” The butler finished. “Every person is here for that. Miss Phillips’s parents and younger brother have flown down here to take her body after the forensic scientists find valid reasons on how Miss Phillips was killed.”

“Oh,” Juliette said in a small voice. “So, can I come in?”

“How old are you?” The butler questioned.

“Seventeen –”

“Why, you are a minor then.” The butler said. “Minors are not allowed in here.”

“But my school –”

“Excuse me, Mr. Greenly,” A boy’s voice said. “Can you get aside please?”

Mr. Greenly got aside to reveal a guy of fourteen. He looked disturbingly like Vicky Phillips – a male version of hers. He was tall – but an inch shorter than Juliette. His hands were frequently tapping his bulging pockets – as though there was something important in there.

“Hi,” The boy said. “You are a local?”

“Uh… yes,” Juliette said slowly. She did not like the word local. 

“You must know everything about the neighborhood then,” The boy said. “Can you lead me to the western side of the town?”

“Why do you want to go there, sir?” Mr. Greenly asked.

“Work,” The boy said seriously. “Tell Mom and Dad that I’ll come back soon.”

He stepped out of the house and closed the doors on the butler’s face. He turned around and smiled at Juliette.

“That butler’s insane,” The boy said, wiping off some sweat with a handkerchief. “He’s trained in France apparently. I don’t think even Sherlock Holmes would be that nosy. I’m Wayne, by the way. Wayne Phillips. What’s your name?”

 “Juliette Porter. I am from the high school, trying to report on Vicky Phillips’ case.” Juliette said. “Are you –?”

“Vicky was my elder sister.” He said. “She was eighteen when she um, she –”

“When she was murdered,” Juliette finished and couldn’t help feeling awkward. This kid had lost his sister recently and Juliette was being blunt – as usual. There was an embarrassing silence. Juliette looked down and removed her black-framed glasses.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Juliette said. “I didn’t mean to put it all so… directly. I understand how much hurt you’d be and all –”

Lie! Lie! Lie!

It was a plain lie. Juliette knew that she wouldn’t understand Wayne’s pain unless she too lost a close relative. Yet, she had to say something in order to comfort the poor little fourteen-year-old kid.

“It’s okay.” Wayne assured her, giving a small smile. “I just need a guide so that I can investigate.”

“So you’re an amateur detective, eh?” Juliette said, giving a sisterly smile in return. “You want to be like Holmes?”

“Call me a geek, Juliette.” Wayne said. “I was just trying to, you know; get over my grief when my phone rang. I looked at my BlackBerry and my sister’s phone number was flashing on the screen.”

“What do you mean?” Juliette demanded. “Your sister’s dead! Could somebody have prank-called you –?”

“I think not.” Wayne said. He jogged down the steps and added, “Let’s take a walk and go somewhere nice, shall we?”

“Where to?” Juliette asked, putting those specs back on.

“To any café, bistro or whatever –”

“Sure!” Juliette said. “Let’s go to Crazy & Lazy, shall we?”

“Is it a posh café or something?”

“Nope,” Juliette said. “It’s um, a hangout for middle-class townsfolk like me.”

“Then let’s go!” Wayne said. “You can even interview me and I’ll tell you about why I’m investigating.”

***

“What’d you like, Julie?” Rhonda, the friendly Crazy & Lazy waitress, asked. Rhonda’s black eyes fell on Wayne and a look of curiosity washed over her kind, dark face. Wayne smiled at her warmly. Rhonda returned the smile somewhat half-heartedly.

“Rhonda, this is Wayne Phillips.” Juliette introduced. “I’m taking his interview. He is Vicky Phillips’ fourteen-year-old –”

“Thirteen,” Wayne corrected. “I’m thirteen.”

“Yeah, so he’s Vicky’s brother.” Juliette finished. “And I’d like a cup of coffee. Wayne wants chocolate milkshake, right?”

“Right,” Wayne agreed. Rhonda nodded and left their table, throwing curious looks at them.

Crazy & Lazy was a social hub where friends hung out, couples held hands and meaninglessly gaze up at each other, and adults came after a weary day at work. It was your typical café. There were paintings on the walls of characters from Archie comics. The whole thing was cozy and comfortable. Juliette felt a bit awkward hanging out with a rich kid who was about four years younger than her.

“Rhonda’s nice, but your sister’s murder has shaken her up.” Juliette explained. “It has shaken every person in this town. Who knows the person they’re talking to might be the slayer of the great songstress?”

“I don’t think you’d kill my sister.” Wayne said. “You don’t strike me to be the killer type. You’re more like a person who wants to act mature but can’t pull it off.”

“You judge people well for a thirteen-year-old, Wayne.” Juliette said, surprised. “But I don’t think I’ve met Vicky in person. Okay, there was this time when my friend, Carrie pulled me to stalk on her in the woods. But we saw her fleetingly.”

“Vicky was darn fast.” Wayne said, his eyes focused on the paintings.

“Tell me all about your sister, Wayne.” Juliette said. “Tell me how you feel of her death.”

“The word depressed would be an underestimation,” Wayne said, sighing heavily. “True, I argued a lot with her. True, I called her self-centered but to be really honest – it feels empty without her. I… I loved my sister to bits.”

He lapsed into a deep silence and Juliette didn’t pester him. Rhonda came back with a tray laden with coffee and chocolate milkshake. She was still shooting them weird looks as she set down the coffee mug and the glass of milkshake. Juliette took her mug and sipped some coffee, staring at a group of popular girls in her school.

“I traced where the call came from, Juliette.” Wayne said quietly. Juliette set her mug down and straightened her glasses.

“How’d you trace it?” Juliette questioned. “You’re – you’re a kid!”

“I’m a self-claimed geek, Juliette.” Wayne said. “I know how to trace the location. Not to mention the fact that I used some of the technological devices of your lovely local police to trace the location,” 

“Is it somewhere in the town?” Juliette asked, straightening her glasses. When Wayne nodded, Juliette added, “Do you want to go there now?”

“I would love to.” Wayne said uncertainly. “If you wouldn’t mind taking me there, that is,”

He looked so eager, so… determined to find out what was the connection of the phone-call and Vicky’s death.

“What if –” Juliette chose her words carefully now. “What if there’s no such connection with the caller and Vicky’s phone?”

“Don’t you feel it, Juliette?” Wayne said. “I think, I think the killer might have stolen Vicky’s phone!”

“Why would he do that, Wayne?” Juliette countered. “There is nothing likely unless –”

She stopped speaking. Wayne’s face broke into a smile.

“The evidence must be in Vicky’s phone.”

***

After paying the bill, Wayne and Juliette were walking fast towards the location which Wayne had mysteriously traced. Juliette’s heart was thudding against her ribcage and she felt cold numbness oozing inside her. Yet, she led Wayne mechanically to the destination, without even bothering to analyze what the place exactly was.

Juliette was scared. You could clearly see the fear in the eyes behind the oversized spectacles. Juliette gripped her bag tightly as Wayne finally said, “Is that the place, Juliette?”

“That’s the old town hall, Wayne.” Juliette whispered. “Are you sure you got the location right?”

“If this place is the Thomas Woods town hall, near the woods,” Wayne said. “Then I’m pretty sure I got the location right.”

“Let’s go in,” Juliette said, gulping.

They crossed the yard and Juliette opened the broken door. It opened with a creeak, making the hairs on the back of Juliette’s neck stand up. Juliette gulped again and stepped inside.

Wayne followed her and shut the door. The creaking sound made Juliette shiver but she didn’t say anything.

The old town hall had been abandoned after the spectacular assassination of a mayor many years ago. There were rumors that after the death of the mayor, this place had become a ghost’s party place. People cited that they’d seen ghosts of vengeful spirits hung out here and scared the crap out of you.

The whole hall was darkened and their footsteps echoed, making both Juliette and Wayne jump each time they heard the echoes of their footsteps. A dusty, cobwebbed chandelier hung above them, completely still. The only source of light was the sunlight streaming from a broken window, which did not help steering away the ominous feel of the whole hall.

“Is anybody here?” Juliette whispered. She raised her voice and repeated, “Is anybody here?”

“Get – out – of here!” A voice came from the dark. “Get – out – of – here!”

Juliette screamed. Crash! Her glasses fell down, breaking into small pieces the minute it hit the ground. She clutched Wayne’s shirt, hoping that the voice was just her imagination getting overactive. But Wayne was shivering too – Juliette could dimly make out his body shaking in fear.

All of the sudden, the chandelier lit up. Juliette blinked at the sudden brightness. Then, her eyes refocused to see how the hall had been converted into a shabby home. There was a small television set connected at a corner. The T.V. screen was showing a news channel with Vicky Phillips’ picture constantly flashing. A blanket and a moth-eaten pillow were next to the television.

“Who’s there?” Wayne demanded. “What’s happening?”

From a small door that said restroom, came out a small man. The man was blonde. His hair hung over his face, barely concealing the look of pain. One hand was clutched at his bleeding stomach while the other was holding an iPhone – Vicky’s phone.

“That’s my sister’s phone!” Wayne cried out. Juliette strengthened her hold on Wayne’s shirt. She couldn’t afford to see him murdered like his sister.

“I – murdered – your – sister!” The man gasped. “I was hired – hired by a rival of her producer – I didn’t want to kill her but he forced me! He forced me – he forced me to murder your sister and p-put the blame on the producer of her music video!”

“Why’d you take that phone?” Juliette asked in a hollow voice.

“She’d videoed the w-whole thing!” The man burst out. “And I didn’t want to get caught!”

“What’s this?” Juliette demanded to Wayne. “What sane person takes a video of an attack on them?”

“Vicky always had the video on her phone on.” Wayne said. “She had that peculiar habit. She used to feel secure if she kept the video mode on.”

“The – the revenge’s coming!” The man moaned to them. “Help me! I’ll rather go to jail than die like this!”

For the first time, Juliette observed that man. He was bleeding and there were cuts and scratches all over his skin. Juliette released her hand from Wayne’s and when she was about to take a step towards the man, the man doubled over. 

He vomited out blood. As soon as the blood formed a little pool around him, he was dragged backwards by some invisible force, Vicky’s iPhone slipping from his hands. He slammed against the wall and fell down. Juliette resumed her screaming. This time, Wayne joined her. As the two of them screamed, the man had resumed vomiting blood.

Juliette screamed louder and louder but Wayne had some sense. He stopped screaming and gingerly walked towards the place where the iPhone was placed. When he reached there, he scooped the phone using his shirt and jogged towards Juliette. Juliette was still watching the torture inflicted upon the man.

That man was being slammed repeatedly against the wall, blood gushing from his stomach, head and mouth. It was so horrible to watch the whole thing. Juliette wanted to close her eyes but she couldn’t. She was rooted to her spot.

“Someone call 911!” Juliette screamed. “He needs help!”

“GO!” The man cried, blood spluttering from his eyes. “GET OUT OF HERE TILL THE GHOST GETS TO YOU!”

“Let’s go, Juliette!” Wayne exclaimed. “He’s beyond help!” He tugged at her sleeve and Juliette could finally move again. The two of them started running towards the entrance, occasionally looking at the murderer’s plight. But their top priority was to get outside and call the cops.

As for the poor murderer, he was now hurtled towards the television set and landed onto the moth-eaten pillow. He didn’t move at all.

The television screen which was showing photos of the deceased Vicky now flickered and switched off completely. It was replaced by a figure in white – a beautiful but scary face.

She looked the same. Her blonde straight hair was ratty. Those sea-colored eyes had a maniacal rage which no human could possess. The curve of a satisfactory smile on her lips only said that Vicky Phillips was satisfied with the revenge she’d taken.