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The Ghost Girl's Hand

Sometimes, there are things that science can not explain. Sometimes, there are things that happen because they just do.. Submitted by louise (Award 565), age 15

I walked out of the building, drinking in the view. The black sky had fiercely swallowed the stars and city lights illuminated the murky night. I glanced at my watch, 11.05pm; I’d spent 15 hours in a dark, dank office, suddenly a cold wind arrogantly punched my face, almost knocking me over. In a daze, I slowly strolled over to my car, and attempted to pry open the stiff door, I’d forgotten my keys!

After setting off my car alarm numerous times, I finally clambered into my car. I soon began my journey home, and giggled as I fondly remembered an old legend, told to me as a child.

When the clock strikes 12,
On Hallows Eve,
Beware of the ghosts,
Of Adam and Eve.

When crossing the bridge,
Beware of the dead,
Keep your eyes on the road,
And don’t lose your head.

An old tale, nothing to be scared of.

I drove along the bridge, it was silent, dull and lifeless. Suddenly, a scream erupted into the night, confused, I automatically slammed the brakes on, as I looked up, the road seemed hardly more solid than a shadow. I cautiously listened for another scream, nothing. I carried on driving.

Mysteriously, a girl appeared in the middle of the road, her face no more than a ghostly white. I immediately leapt out of the car, greeted by the sound of the trees gently cracking their fingers. “Hello? Are you alright?”

Her only response was silence.

“Do you live around her?” I softly queried.

“32 Kynpersley Road,” the girl faintly murmured.

I placidly took the girl’s hand, and began driving toward her house. The journey was a long and lonely one.

Eventually, we reached the house, and I idly strolled to the front door. I briskly rang the doorbell, and an old man swiftly flung open the front door.

“What?” He demanded. My heart began pounding in my chest, like a lion in its cage.

“I... I have your daughter in my car. She was alone on the bridge.” I stammered.

“Is this some kind of joke?” The man was livid, red in the face. I gestured for him to come out to my car. I felt nervous, as if I knew something bad was going to happen.

We walked up to the car, and as I opened the door, I stared in horror; the seat was empty. The girl was gone.

I turned around to face the old man, he stared at me his eyes black with anger.

He lowered his voice to a fierce growl, “My daughter was killed on that bridge, 5 years ago.”

Comments (1)

user comment Molly says: This is Amazing! Really creative and scary!
Sent on Sat 2nd Feb 13


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