Ghost: Books of the Dead - Fantasy Best Seller and Supernatural Teen Book: (Ghost, Occult, Supernatural, Occult and Supernatural) (2 page)

What Emily kept secret from the rest of the group was that not that long ago, during the finals of her first year, she was pushed in the same manner on her way to the library. It was in the evening and not many people were present on the fourth floor. She did not lose consciousness, but like Megan, she saw someone run into the library, too. At the time, she looked, but found no one who had entered the library at that moment. There was old Mr. Mitchell, who was dozing off and a few students studying in silence. The incident never occurred again, and Emily didn’t give it a second thought.

This time, Emily was determined to find out if it was the same person or just a figment of her imagination. The library had one exit door and there was no way out, which left only six windows along the wall. However, since the library was fully air-conditioned, all the windows stayed locked.

Emily, Grace, Megan and Mr. Mitchell all walked back toward the library doors. Mr. Mitchell gave them a nod of the head and welcomed them into his domain. The library had an old charm about it. It had antique-looking benches on the front and left side of the library, which were set in double rows. Students and teachers sat on these for hours, studying and researching. The other areas were taken up by huge wooden cupboards and shelves that stored books. On each shelf, the subjects were marked in alphabetical order. The library gave off a thick smell of books and people, of untold stories and mysteries, of silence and murmurs.

Mr. Mitchell usually sat behind one large oak desk with his spectacles on one side and a computer on the other. The library assistant had resigned a few days earlier; therefore, the other chair remained vacant. The green curtains on the windows let the right amount of sunlight in and the library was fairly lit almost all the time. So if someone was hiding, then it was just a matter of time before that person would be found.

Emily, along with Megan, Mr. Mitchell and few others, stood in front of the doorway. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary upon first glance, no ominous silence in the library, just a preferred calmness. The place was empty, just as Mr. Mitchell had described. The old librarian went ahead first, followed by the others.

Emily called out loudly, “Hello. Anyone there?”

Her voice reverberated loudly through the entire room and other than a few sounds of moving footsteps, nothing was heard. Everyone looked around at each other, as if the search could have been over before it ever really started. Emily did not want to give up though. She had a hunch that something was amiss, but failed to understand what it was. She decided to look into it by moving ahead of the others. She didn’t expect the rest of the group to follow her, but they did.

Based on the details of Megan’s account, they fully expected to find someone. There were bullies all around campus, hiding in plain sight among all the young students and faculty members of the university. The group of junior investigators had a few likely suspects, and a few infamous names were called out in hushed tones. Yet, the only thing they heard was the sound of silence. There was no one in the library, and it was unlikely that someone entered and left without being noticed. Nothing seemed out of place. Emily and the others were soon joined by some of Megan’s class friends. They all helped search throughout the library, but no one was found.

Mr. Mitchell looked particularly perplexed. He stood in one corner, monitoring everyone’s progress and trying his best to keep track of the students’ movements. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and started murmuring something to himself. He seemed to blame himself for the attack, citing his old age, his cane and stifled movement. He even went so far as to blame the changing times for the reoccurrence of violent crimes on campus. Most of the students ignored him, but Emily moved closer so she could hear what he was saying. He recalled how everything was perfectly fine in the library until one fateful moment in the past.

“I've kept silent for years,” he said, “but I did not see anything
.
” He repeated that a few times until someone came and called his name out loud. 

“Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Mitchell,” Rick called out.

He looked up slowing. “Could it be?” he whispered. “Did you find anyone?” he asked quietly.

“No one, Mr. Mitchell,” the student answered. “There’s no one in here now, but are you sure that you didn’t see anyone coming through here earlier?” Rick asked.

“I am old, but I can see. I saw no one coming in or going out!” he gruffly replied.

Emily was at the front desk by then and followed the conversation between her classmate, Rick, and Mr. Mitchell.

Is he hiding something
? Emily asked herself.

She knew Mr. Mitchell for the past year, but did not find anything wrong or creepy about him. She had visited the library on a regular basis over the past year and was particularly fond of the old librarian. He didn’t talk that much and most of the time looked too tense to be a threat to anyone.

That’s just how some people are
, she told herself.

However, it was not the same for her classmates or a few others in the university. Some people claimed that they saw Mr. Mitchell talking to himself. For someone his age, that wasn’t so hard to imagine. In the past, Emily never paid much heed towards the stories regarding Mr. Mitchell. However, she was forced to admit that he had been in the same profession for all his working life. His occupation often required him to sit in silence, except when dealing with requests from his assistants and students. So, she thought that he was entitled to a few bouts of absurdity and random moments of age-induced insanity.

Emily believed that all human psychology couldn’t be determined by one single behavioral pattern. There were things people did and events that people were subjected to that could only be explained through years of study and research. Forming a judgment or conclusion about a person too hastily was a great disservice to the wide range and depth of human experience. 

However, even Emily couldn’t overlook Mr. Mitchell’s strange behavior today. She was sure that he looked nervous, and not entirely because of his old age either. She wanted to ask him more, but the arrival of new teachers took the opportunity away from her. One new teacher, Mr. Roberts, entered in followed by Mr. Paisley. There was a meeting convening soon for all the new staff members at the university. Slowly, the library was being cleared out and it was concluded that Megan must have tripped and fell. Seeing someone was just dismissed as her delusion. After everyone left the library, nobody talked about or discussed the incident on the fourth floor of the infamous Fletcher building. Emily, however, decided to reach the end of it. She refused to believe that the occurrence of a similar event as she experienced her first year could just be a coincidence. It even happened in the same place and in a similar fashion. As Emily walked out of the library, she gave one last glace at the empty benches and Mr. Mitchell. He stood motionless, staring at the old clock on the wall just behind the benches. Emily followed his gaze up to the wall and noticed that the hands of the clock were stuck at 12:00.

After two more classes, the first day of the final year was concluded. The classes for the day were done and most of the students headed over to the campus union to eat and socialize. Grace and Emily were both tired from the long day and agreed to head back to their dorm room. The walk back to the student lodging was long and Emily kept quiet for most of it. In fact, when Grace proposed to go inside, Emily opted to go for a walk alone.

”Emily, just be careful!” Grace called over her shoulder before going upstairs.

Emily simply waved her hands acknowledging her friend’s concern. The evening air was clear and crisp. A light breeze was blowing and the temperature started to fall. Emily fastened her sweater buttons and strode along the cobbled path. The stars were beginning to illuminate the night, and there was a slight hint of moonlight appearing in the cloudless sky. Emily looked up to the heavens and stared blankly at the stars, as if the vastness of the sky held answers to her unsolvable questions.

Emily noticed the university campus was unusually empty that evening. She blamed it on the weather. It was cold outside, but it seemed that she was the only one who had gotten used to the climate. The mornings were sunny and bright and just a light sweater was needed to provide enough warmth to travel from building to building and class to class. The nights grew cold, and when the sun went down, most of the students preferred to stay indoors. 

She noticed that she had walked quite a distance from her dorm, almost to the end of the university campus. The park benches on the side looked alluring and she decided to relax before heading back to the confinements of her room. The cool breeze allowed her to unwind. She looked to her right and saw a couple sitting on one of the park benches, and to her left, someone sat alone like her. She strained her eyes towards the individual sitting on the furthest corner of the park bench and noticed it was Andrew Mitchell, Mr. Mitchell’s 26 year old son. He was a little slow, but the administrators allowed him to run small errands for the university campus. His mother took care of him most of the time. The entire family stayed in staff quarters on campus, along with their dog, Keeba. Emily noticed Keeba walking up to his master.

They must have come here for a walk
, she said to herself as she sat on the bench.

The cute little dog’s face was illuminated by the soft light of the moon. Keeba was hopping gleefully around her master and occasionally paused to lick at his feet. Emily smiled at the dog’s antics, but didn’t want to disturb them. Keeba barked loudly a few times. Emily caught a glimpse of movement in the distance and found Mrs. Mitchell walking towards the park looking for her son. She saw a slight interaction between mother and son, and then watched them both walk off together.

Emily had noticed Mrs. Mitchell a couple of times on the campus, but today she practically reminded her of her former neighbor, Mrs. Hampton, in her old town of Anacoco, Louisiana. The quaint little town was beautiful. Emily’s house overlooked a small lake, and just beside their family home was Mrs. Hampton’s house. Peaceful and quiet, Emily used to spend most of her time sitting on her neighbor’s porch while her mother did chores.

While sitting down near the lonely cobbled path, Emily’s thoughts traveled back to her childhood. She was a curious child, but at the time, she had no idea what she wanted out of life. Then, something happened when she was twelve years old that influenced her decision to come to this university and pursue criminology as her major. As she watched the swaying branches of the trees, she remembered the face of her old neighbor, Mrs. Hampton. They were quite close, and Emily was here at the university because of her.

Mrs. Hampton was in her seventies, and her husband had died a few years ago. Her children lived in the city, which left her alone most of the time. Emily remembered exploring her house and asking all sorts of questions. At that age, she always wondered if the old woman ever got bored living all alone; however, at this age, she realized staying alone was not all that bad. Her neighbor had all sorts of stories to tell, and Emily loved listening to them. There were all kinds of stories, from fairy tales and mysteries, stories about lost lands and victories, about knights in shining armor, brave queens who fought for their land to revenge seeking ghosts and naughty trolls. Emily was intensely intrigued by them all. Sometimes, she wanted to fight one of the bad characters, and at other times, she wanted to be one of them. Emily urged Mrs. Hampton to repeat her stories and out of the kindness of Mrs. Hampton’s heart, she always used to comply with the little girl’s demands.

Mrs. Hampton lovingly treated Emily like her own family. Emily was not just fond of her stories, but of the dear lady herself.  Every weekend, Emily used to look forward to Mrs. Hampton’s freshly baked cinnamon apple pies and walnut cookies; they were her favorites. Emily recalled how they used to travel to the town market to buy supplies together and how much fun they had while cooking them. Mrs. Hampton was like the grandmother Emily never had. Of course, she had grandparents of her own, but was never close with them.

Mrs. Hampton was smart, witty and funny. She taught Emily how to be brave and carefree. Then one winter, Emily and her family were out on vacation in Chicago visiting relatives. Emily was sixteen at the time. When she came back home, she ran towards Mrs. Hampton’s house to greet her. However, instead of her welcoming arms right on the porch, she found five policemen standing grimly on the sidewalk. Horrified, she ran up there, but the policemen prevented her from going inside, stating that it was now a crime scene. Emily was young when the incident happened, but somehow she remembers it like it was yesterday.

“You can’t go in there. Someone has been murdered here,” one of the policemen said.

Emily looked back at her father with disbelief in her eyes. She could feel her legs melting. “But it’s not possible, “Emily cried out loud.

“Ma’am, are you related to the victim?” the gruff-looking policeman inquired.

Emily was too petrified to answer. She wanted to say yes, but couldn’t find her voice. She stood frozen on the ground. Her father walked up to the policemen and said, “She was our neighbor, and my daughter loved her a lot.”

“Sir, it looks like she was murdered last night,” said the policeman. “You need to come with us to the police station for some routine questions,” he added.

Emily was tormented from that day forward, and she became more reserved and depressed. She just couldn’t deal with Mrs. Hampton’s death. Apparently, there was no theft at Mrs. Hampton's house that evening. A suspected murderer was arrested, but the man was never convicted due to lack of conclusive evidence. The ensuing events of his release from jail distressed Emily further and she decided to take up criminology after that. She decided to fight against the violence and misfortunes that fall on innocent lives. Emily and her family left their house and a whole lot of memories behind in order for her to pursue a criminology degree in Chicago.