Spectral Tales: A Ghost Story Anthology

by Jamie Campbell

  The ghosts at the door prevented them from leaving that way. They couldn’t even reach the doorknob to open it. However, the pair near the kitchen window had dispersed somewhat, offering a possible chance to escape.

  “Kappai, step where I step, and the ghosts won’t touch you.” Malika held her sister’s hand and slowly approached the window. She stopped three feet away from the nearest ghost. Malika glanced out the window. There didn’t appear to be any ghosts outside the front of the house. She turned around and placed her hands on Kappai’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You have to do exactly as I say. When I tell you it’s safe to do so, you’re going to jump on the counter and then crawl out of this window. You move exactly when I tell you to. You got it?”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be right behind you, but I need to be your eyes right now so that you can escape first.”

  “Malika…”

  “I’ll join you as soon as possible. I promise.”

  Kappai wrapped her arms around her older sister. “You’d better.”

  Malika didn’t look down at her sister. She didn’t want the last image that Kappai saw of her to be a face full of doubt. No, Malika told herself, it wouldn’t be the last time that Kappai saw her alive. They were both going to make it.

  “Get ready.”

  Kappai balled her hands into fists, her legs ready to spring into action. Malika timed the movement of the ghosts before them. As soon as they left an opening for Kappai, Malika yelled, “Now!”

  She had never seen her sister jump so fast. The little girl leaped onto the counter, pushed open the window, and fell through to the other side. A moment later, her smiling face appeared. “I made it, Malika! Now it’s your turn.”

  In the seconds that it took Kappai to escape, the ghosts reversed their course and blocked the path to the window again. Malika waited for them to move out of the way, but one of them stopped as if it could sense her presence.

  Kappai inched toward the window. “What are you waiting for, Malika?”

  “Stay outside, Kappai! There’s a ghost right in front of the window.” The little girl backed away. “That’s good. Just stay there.”

  Malika took a step to her right to see if the ghost would follow her, but it didn’t move. She walked back and forth in the kitchen, taunting the ghost to leave its place in front of the window. A second ghost passed through the first one, and both started moving again. Malika set off as soon as the path to the window cleared. She climbed onto the counter. Putting both hands on the window frame, she prepared to push off.

  The first ghost changed direction again. It came back in her direction. Malika pulled her body through the window. She kicked off with her feet and tumbled onto the ground outside.

  She had made it. She was still alive.

  Malika got to her feet. An assembly of ghosts continued to enter and exit the house, but none hovered outside where the sisters stood. Pulling Kappai along with her, Malika took a path around the ghosts and away from the village.

  They walked in silence until they reached the first line of trees in the woods.

  “Are we safe now?” Kappai asked.

  “Yes,” Malika answered. Safe from the ghosts. Safe from the slave traders.

  “What do we do now?”

  “The same thing we had planned to do last night. We’ll wait until the ghosts clear out, grab our food and water, and then head for Talin. How does that sound to you?”

  Kappai leaned her head against Malika. “It sounds great.”

  Malika wrapped an arm around her little sister. If they could survive hunger and ghosts and slave traders, they could survive anything. “Don’t you worry, Kappai. As long as I’m around, you’ll be safe.” She meant every word.

  About H.S. Stone

  Even before he could read, H.S. Stone wanted to write a book. Fascinated by the stories that seemed to leap from his kindergarten teacher's books, he went home and wrote his own book, with illustrations and bound by staples. Of course, since he didn't know how to read or write yet, the book was full of gibberish.

  Undaunted, H.S. eventually mastered the ABC's and continued to write throughout his grade school years, adolescence, and into adulthood. Despite earning a degree and working in a field not related to writing, he continued to pursue his writing passion.

  H.S. Stone's publications include novels aimed at Young Adult and Middle Grade readers as well as several short stories. He lives with his family in the San Francisco Bay Area.

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  Farewell Ohana

  (A Ghostly Mini-Wave)

  Sutton Shields

  Kauai Camp for the Curiously Creepy. Morning. Winter. Life in Hawaii had always been peaceful, simple, and existed almost entirely outdoors. We had plush sandy beaches that warmed your skin like a down comforter and an ocean so blue and clear, you’d think it was a painting come to life. And then there was the sky—a sky that proudly produced flawless rainbows against a perfect blue backdrop during the day and darkened at nightfall to show off its myriad of twinkling stars just waiting to be wished upon.

  Mom used to rock me in her arms in our big hammock, and say, “The spirits of night sing our land to sleep, tucking it beneath its deep blue blanket, readying it to face a bright, new day.”

  She’d then ask me to pick a star, any star, to hear its story; it was our nightly tradition. I’d point my stubby little finger at the tiniest one I could find, and not simply because it looked sad and lonely and in need of a hug—I picked one Mom may not be able to find. See, I developed the talent of improbable night vision at a very young age. My eyes were basically the equivalent of night vision goggles…only better, way better. After many guesses and giggles, Mom crafted a spine-tingling, awe-inspiring story for even the most miniscule star; whether she actually ever found the one I’d selected or not remained a mystery. When the tale was over, Mom would stroke my hair and sing her version of Aloha ´Oe. I could still hear her deep, warm voice, singing me to sleep as the warm ocean breeze kissed our cheeks:

  “My baby, how I love you

  My love can’t fade

  I’m there, one star away”

  Sitting on my small, rickety cot, the memories burning my soul, I roughly wiped tears from my eyes. Today was the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. My mom and dad passed away shortly after I was institutionalized, yet the cut in my heart was still painfully raw. What I wouldn’t give for my last vision of my mom to be in that hammock, singing me to sleep. Instead, my final memory of her was from the day the Imperia—a special branch of government dedicated to institutionalizing youths who show unusual talents—ripped me out of her arms. I was just a child at the time. My beautiful mother’s tear-stained face occupied my mind, as her piercing, wounded cries invaded my ears. I hadn’t set eyes on the sand, sea, or sky since that day…and at this moment, I was afraid I’d never see them again.

  “Maile? Are you okay?”

  “She’s thinking about her mom, Gus. We shouldn’t bother her.”

  Guston and Gullivere Pensmackden were my best friends in the institution. They were a peculiar set of twins I’d met my first night here; no one else wanted to be near them, though I could never understand why. Sure, Gully was a bit, well, odd, but weren’t we all? I mean, so what if she starts jumbling her words when her hair falls down? Granted, it was a tad bizarre at first, but I’d learned to decode her babble on those occasions. Though, admittedly, I always tried to ensure her long honeysuckle-blond hair was tied up in a braid or ponytail. Gus, on the other hand, had always been quite intimidating, even as a small boy. He seemed to use his silent, stealth-like demeanor and severe caramel-brown eyes to distance himself from everyone but me and his sister. He’d since grown into my protector and boyfriend.

  “The day is dark,” I said quietly.

  Gully sighed. “Yes, it is quite morbid. I hate draining days, when the doctors start trying to remove our
talents. It’s really very painful. And I hate the screaming…”

  I shook my head. “No, I mean literally the day is dark. I absolutely cannot see anything. At least I could see shadows and shapes yesterday. Today, it’s like someone put a blindfold on me. You were right, Gully. Your decoding was dead-on.”

  Being a code decipherer, Gully was able to de-cryptic just about anything. For several weeks, I’d had odd dreams, almost as if they’d been planted in my brain; when I’d wake up, my ability to see in daylight had dramatically deteriorated. Gully guessed my dreams were clues pertaining to my loss of sight, possibly sent to me by my ancestors.

  “Hmm? Right about what?” Gully asked. “Ooh, you mean how palm trees are really portals to alien societies? I’m surprised it’s taken you so long. I’ve know for ages.”

  “Uh, no, not about the palm tree portals. About my fading sight and family trying to warn me through my dreams,” I reminded her.

  “Oh.” There was a long pause. “No, I don’t remember that.”

  “It was only a few weeks ago, Gulls,” said Gus, slight frustration in his voice.

  “Nope, still can’t recall. But I am sorry I was right. I’d like to be less right sometimes…but not about palm tree portals and aliens.”

  I couldn’t help but giggle. Gully wasn’t the most focused person, but she was as loyal a friend as you’d ever find.

  “That’s it,” grumbled Gus. I felt the bed move as he sat beside me, stroking my long black and magenta-streaked hair. “Someone is targeting you especially, Maile, trying extra hard to kill your talent, and whoever it is won’t stop. They’ve already taken your day vision. We’ve got to get you out of here. Tonight.”

  I flipped my head to face him…or the boarded up window…or the trash can. At this point, my sense of direction pretty much sucked. “You’re crazy! No one has ever escaped an Imperia institution. It’s not possible!”

  “Oh no, it’s possible,” trilled Gully. “Gus can get us out. He’s been working on it for months.”

  “But…how?” I asked, astonished, my eyes wide…and probably staring at Gully’s earlobe or temple.

  Gus squeezed my hand. “The particulars aren’t important. Just leave everything to me. Pack a small bag and be ready by eleven o’clock tonight, when everyone’s asleep. I’ll pick you up while Gully keeps watch.”

  “The doors will be locked. Don’t tell me you figured out how to pick an electronic lock,” I grumbled.

  “Something like that.” I could hear the smirk in Gus’s voice. “Tonight, we save our own lives.”

  Eleven o’clock. I fidgeted with the fraying strap of my tatty blue bag, anxiously waiting for Gus. Everyone around me was fast asleep—a day full of needle-laden torture would knock anyone out…except me. In fact, the only way I made it through Draining Day was by focusing on this very moment. Not only were we about to attempt the impossible—break free from institution hell—but with nightfall came one very big bonus: my eyes sprang back into full night-vision power. I could once again see everything around me.

  Amidst the snores and wheezes, the creak of a floor and shuffling of feet just outside the room caught my ear. Soon, the wall to the right of the door quivered, turning oddly blurry, as two figures suddenly appeared in the room; one was my boyfriend, Gus, flashing me an ‘I told ya I could do it’ grin. The other figure was a resident I knew very well—we bonded in the basement of the institution while sifting through scraps of discarded clothes, determined to find, design, and craft something better than the horrible gray and brown uniforms we were assigned; of course, anyone we made clothes for had to hide our fun, handmade garments and only wear them at night or during free hours.

  She was known as Wall-Walking Wanda, for her talent was quite literally the ability to walk through walls. She was basically a living ghost, for lack of a better description. Wanda was a slight girl with ghostly pale skin, thick yellow-rimmed glasses, and shoulder-length, cherry-red hair. Her clothes were always wildly mismatched. Tonight was no exception: teal top, lime green skirt, bright yellow tights, and pink sneakers.

  Gus made his way to me while Wanda waited beside the wall. Upon reaching me, he whispered, “How are your eyes?”

  “Night vision is still working. I can still see at night.”

  Gus exhaled. “Thank God. I was hoping it wasn’t too late. Ready to get outta here?”

  “Lead the way.”

  Taking my hand in his, holding it tightly, Gus and I swiftly joined Wanda, who immediately pivoted around, turning her back to us.

  “Hand on shoulder,” Wanda instructed flatly. Gus and I did as directed. “Keep a firm grip. You don’t want to get stuck between the walls. Very uncomfortable, little smelly.”

  Shooting Gus a wary glance, I took a deep breath and followed Wanda through the wall. The sensation was different than I imagined—what I expected was more akin to slamming my head against a brick wall. Instead, it was sort of like maneuvering through a giant stuffed Thanksgiving turkey. And I have absolutely no idea how or why my brain reached that particular description, but there it was in all its bizarre glory!

  Once we were on the other side of the wall and in the darkened hallway, Wanda said, “Gully’s waiting around the corner, keeping watch. I can get you all through the front door and front gates—it’s the best way to go. After that, you’re on your own. I’m certainly not sticking around to face any night marchers, or aren’t you all aware of those guys?”

  A cold chill ran up and down my body. “I’m aware of them.”

  Looking from Wanda to me, Gus, his brow furrowed, asked, “Uh, what are night marchers?”

  Wanda glared at Gus. “Don’t you ever pay attention to island folklore?”

  “No,” replied Gus. “I put my energy into avoiding the crazy ass doctors and administrators who spend their days trying to rid us of our powers.”

  “Night marchers,” I began, “are warriors who still roam the island.”

  Gus waited a moment for me to expand, which I so wasn’t ready to do. “And the big deal would be?”

  Yeah, I wasn’t prepared to tell Gus about night marchers…for a couple of reasons. “You know what? We’ll worry about them later.”

  “Ha! Understatement of the century,” Wanda bellowed, before a thought obviously crossed her mind. “Night marchers wouldn’t like me, since I have ghost powers without actually being a ghost.”

  “Huh?” Poor Gus. He was going to be so ticked at me for keeping him in the dark.

  “Wanda…why don’t you leave? I mean, with your talent, you could leave whenever you want,” I said. “There isn’t a wall on this planet that could contain you.”

  Wanda dropped her head. Moving the toe of her sneaker across a small rip in the carpet, she meekly whispered, “Because I’m waiting.”

  “For what?” asked Gus.

  “Just…waiting.” It was clear she wasn’t comfortable talking about this any further. “Follow me. We need to move fast. The guards will be on hall patrol in ten minutes.”

  “I can hide us from the guards,” Gus informed her strongly.

  Rolling her eyes, Wanda snapped, “Yes, I know, human chameleon dude. But wouldn’t it be nicer if we could wander the halls without the threat of any run-ins?”

  “Okay, point well-made.” Gus grinned mischievously.

  “Let’s go. Be as quiet as you can, especially on the lower levels.” Wanda took off jogging down the hall. Gus and I were quick to follow.

  When we rounded the corner of the long, seemingly endless hallway, we found Gully patiently awaiting our arrival.

  “Come on, Gully,” Wanda demanded.

  “Do we have to run? I don’t really like running. Makes my hair come loose,” said Gully with a disappointed sigh.

  “We’re only going to run for a little bit.” I took Gully’s hand in mine and pulled her along.

  We continued through the halls and down several flights of stairs until we reached the main entrance hall—a vast, immaculate r
oom made entirely out of bamboo; the arched ceiling made it feel almost magical…if only that were the case.

  The front doors to freedom were merely steps away. Just as we were about to cross the grand hall, a loud clamor from a nearby office stopped us cold. To our horror, Headmaster Akalonna was exiting his office.

  “It’s the headmaster!” I frantically whispered.

  “All of you—grab hold of me,” Gus demanded.

  Gus wrapped his long arm around me and Gully, pulling us close, while Wanda jumped into his free arm; with us all against him, he swiftly swiveled around and slammed our backs against the wall. The thud alone would have awakened the night marchers.

  “Who’s there?” shouted Headmaster Akalonna, his large, intimidating figure charging toward us.

  Stopping directly in front of me, Headmaster Akalonna surveyed the room with his emotionless eyes. Soon, his mean gaze landed right on us. But thanks to Gus, all our headmaster could see was a bamboo wall. Gus was a hider, or as Wanda called him, a human chameleon. He could make himself and anyone in his grasp take the form of nearly anything.

  “Humph!” groaned Headmaster Aklalonna. “Must’ve been the drums of the night marchers.” He then twiddled off to his private quarters, which were rumored to be embarrassingly luxurious—far cry from how we lived.

  Once the headmaster was out of sight, Gus peeled us from the wall.

  “Nicely done, hider,” I murmured to Gus, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  Puffing out his chest, Gus replied, “Yeah, it’s the most effective way to keep you locked in my arms.” I couldn’t help but giggle.

  Wanda scowled at us. “Oh. My. God. Are you flirting? There’s no time for flirting! Unbelievable! Please, kindly bury the flirt and let’s move our butts.” Once we were standing before the front doors, readying ourselves to pass through, Wanda added, “You know the drill—grab hold of me, we ghost through, and then Gus takes over. Hider, we’ll need you to camouflage us in order to get past the ring of guards and to the front gate. Clear?” We all nodded.