GhostMidnight is a Place

 

This is my contribution to the Sarah Sligo Ghost Story Challenge at Jixemitri. Many, many thanks to Eric, Susan, Kate, Sue-in-Montreal, Kris, Mary C, SJaye, Dana, Leigh, Lisa and Vikki for all their help and encouragement with this story; and to Carol for her lightning-quick edit.  You guys rock!

Universe notes: This story takes place in 1983, where Trixie and Diana share the same 4th grade class. Mr. Shepherd was my 4th grade teacher, and he was, like, totally bitchin'. :)

 

 

 

In the fullness of another world
There is no emptiness

--Blue Oyster Cult

 

Chapter One

 

It wasn’t her normal morning face; violet eyes still a little sleepy-looking that stared back at her from the bathroom mirror.

 

It was somebody else.

 

Diana Lynch goggled for a moment, her toothbrush dropping onto the tiles with a slight click that made her involuntarily glance downward.

 

When she looked into the mirror again, she saw the same face she saw every morning, a face unusually pale except for two spots of color that blazed in her cheeks.

 

Diana laughed uneasily as she bent down to retrieve her toothbrush. She scooped up the blob of Crest that had fallen off the bristles and absentmindedly swiped it back on before vigorously brushing her teeth.

 

It was just like that game she and her friend Trixie played once when she spent the night. If you stare at yourself in the mirror long enough, your face starts to twist and get creepy looking. They had gotten sufficiently scared by the images they saw to have to snap on Diana’s old nightlight.

 

But I wasn’t staring, Diana started to think, but her thoughts were disrupted by one of her brothers jerking open the door.

 

“Terry! You know you’re supposed to knock first,” Diana admonished, as her brother burst into the bathroom. With only one bathroom to share between all of them, it was a strict rule in the Lynch apartment that anytime the door was closed, the privacy of the person within must be respected. It was how her parents, her twin brothers Larry and Terry, age four, her two-year-old twin sisters Robin and Donna, and herself managed to live together without killing each other. Most of the time, it worked.

 

“Gotta peeeeee,” Terry said, hopping from one foot to the other. “You’ve been in here forever!”

 

“So go,” Diana said, turning back to the sink and spitting out her toothpaste. “I won’t look.” She began washing her face, all thoughts of the mysterious image in the mirror forgotten in the typical hurry up of the morning.

 

She didn’t think of it during her fifth grade class with Mr. Shepherd, she didn’t think of it when she was eating her bologna and cheese sandwich at lunch, or when she was playing kickball during recess.

 

She didn’t even think of it later at home, when she walked into the bedroom she shared with her sisters and found her favorite doll on the floor in front of the closet instead of its usual place of honor on her bed.

 

She returned the doll to its customary spot and marched into the living room where her sisters were watching cartoons on their old television set, eating the graham crackers that Diana had given them to tide them over until their mother got home from her part-time job and fixed dinner for all of them.

 

She stood directly in their line of vision with her arms folded as they howled in protest. “Who’s been playing with Bethie?”

 

Both twins shook their heads in unison, their black braids flying about them. “Not me!” they answered in one voice.

 

Diana sighed. “You know what Mummy said. You have your toys and I have mine.”

 

Robin, the mouthier of the two twins retorted through a mouthful of crumbs, “Didn’t touch your old doll!”

 

Diana looked at her thoughtfully. She had been taking care of the twinnies since they were born. They could no more lie to her than they could their mother. She could always tell when either one of them weren’t being truthful because they both fidgeted and mumbled when they lied, turning all red before finally blurting out a teary confession.

 

“Okay. As soon as this is over you’re going to help me tidy up in here. You know Mummy doesn’t like coming home to a mess.” She cut off the beginning of their protest with a smile and a “let’s surprise her and make her happy” that had both twins smiling back at her. They were good kids and had the sweet desire to please that made Diana not mind, much, that she had to miss out on after school activities to watch them. One of their neighbors, a retired woman who loved children, watched them while Diana was at school.

 

Larry and Terry burst in at that moment, breathless from playing in the small playground at the back of the apartment complex that Birch Brook Manor provided for its residents. “What’s to eat?” they shouted.

 

Bethie temporarily forgotten, Diana gave the boys the same snack she had given her sisters and started chopping up vegetables for the salad. There was no time to think about much as she held a ‘who can tidy the fastest’ contest between the four children.

 

She was setting the table when her mother and father came in together. The family had one car, an old station wagon that her father said ran on ‘God’s will and his wife’s determination’, and he always picked his wife up after his long day in downtown Sleepyside, where he had recently opened up his very own office. As the oldest, Diana knew that until the business got off the ground her mother had to work and she, Diana, had to help with her younger brothers and sisters.

 

According to her parents, they’d all be rich someday, and her father loved to joke that he’d hire not one, but two sets of nurses to help care for the twins.

 

Diana smiled. Her father was big and jolly and a dreamer. His children all adored him, and her mother was convinced he was the most brilliant businessman on the planet.

 

There was no time during the noisy and boisterous dinner to think about the strange events of the day, but later that evening, when Diana was again in front of the mirror, she suddenly remembered and it was with trepidation that she gazed at herself. Her own face stared back at her and she decided she had imagined the whole thing.

 

But something happened the next day in class that completely changed her mind.

 

 

Chapter Two

  

Mr. Shepherd stood in front of his class, smiling. Everyone shut up pretty quickly then—they knew that smile. Mr. Shepherd liked to do what he called ‘experimenting’. One time the entire class collected bottles and cans while learning all about the benefits of recycling. With the money they raised, the entire class sponsored a low-income family at Christmas. It was cool.

 

“Wonder what Mr. Shepherd’s gonna have us do now?” Trixie Belden whispered across the aisle, her sandy blonde curls bobbing over her head like fat sausages.

 

Diana looked at the spunky girl she’d known since Kindergarten and smiled, shrugging her slim shoulders. She was about to whisper a reply when the sound of her teacher’s voice stopped her.

 

“Okay, people! Everybody get a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. Hurry up, now!”

 

The room was filled with squeaks and bangs as twenty-five desk lids were simultaneously lifted and shut.

 

Mr. Shepherd clasped his hands in front of him. “Today, I want you to start thinking about words.”

 

A girl with the longest brown braids Diana had ever seen raised her hand. “What kind of words?” she asked.

 

“Any kind of words. Any words you want. I’m going to set the timer on my desk for two minutes. And in the two minutes, I want to you to write down whatever comes to your mind. Any word you want.” Mr. Shepherd paused and smiled again. “The only thing I expect is that they are spelled correctly.”

 

The class tittered at this and dutifully picked up their pencils, even if what Mr. Shepherd was asking them to do didn’t make much sense.

 

“Ready?” Mr. Shepherd walked over to a small clock that sat on his desk. He pushed a button. “Go!”

 

Diana closed her eyes for a moment, the pencil lightly gripped between her thumb and third finger. Purple she thought happily. Chocolate cake. Kitten.  She began to press down on the paper when it happened.

 

The pencil jolted like a live thing, and her hand moved jerkily over the paper.  Diana’s eyes snapped open and she stared down at the paper, her mouth dropping open as the words began to appear on the page.

 

Dark

Cold

Help

Blood

 

Diana froze, her hand going rigid, the pencil dropping to the floor and rolling away from her. The words were not her own.

 

The writing, not her own.

 

Diana suddenly remembered the bathroom mirror; the face she could have sworn was staring back at her. Not her own.

 

Through the blood thudding in her ears she heard a practiced whisper. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

 

Diana jerked her head to the left to see Trixie holding out her pencil, her round, blue eyes puzzled.

 

“Diana? Is there a problem?” Mr. Shepherd’s normally pleasant face was creased with worry as he headed towards her.

 

Diana panicked, and not knowing what else to do, frantically crumpled the paper into a ball, stuffing it into her pocket. Mr. Shepherd would think she was crazy. Maybe she was. “Um…”

 

“Diana dropped her pencil,” Trixie said helpfully, still holding onto it. Diana took it numbly.

 

Mr. Shepherd glanced at Trixie before looked gravely down at Diana. “Where is your paper?” The timer went off, but he didn’t appear to notice.

 

Diana’s eyes filled with tears. Never in her life had she not done what a teacher had asked her to do. She began to tremble slightly.

 

“Don’t you feel well?”

 

Ah, that was the answer. Diana latched onto the excuse like a lifeline, shaking her head quickly.

 

“Do you need to go to the nurse?” At her nod, her teacher laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Trixie, would you mind taking Diana to the Nurse’s office?”

 

“Is she gonna throw up?” Lester Mundy asked, his round face alight with expectation.

 

Trixie was respectfully silent as they walked down the empty hall. She kept glancing sideways at her pale friend, finally asking, “Are you going to throw up?” in a hushed tone. It was always serious business when you threw up at school.

 

Diana stopped walking. “No.”

 

Trixie’s nose crinkled up for a moment. “What is it, then?”

 

Diana didn’t know what to say. She didn’t understand it herself. She slowly removed the crumpled paper from her pocket and handed it to Trixie.

 

Trixie glanced down at it, frowning. “Why’d you write this?” She looked at it again. “Why’s your writing all weird?”

 

Diana burst into tears. “I don’t know!” she wailed. She was suddenly so tired. She was tired of rushing home to take care of her brothers and sisters. She was tired of making their lunches and cleaning the house. Maybe she was just going crazy. Normal people didn’t see other faces in their bathroom mirror. And they didn’t write scary words in another hand, either.

 

Trixie stared at her for a moment then looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, not knowing what else to say.

 

Diana tried to stop crying and hiccupped instead. She looked at Trixie for a moment. Trixie’s jeans were neatly patched at the knee and she wore a light blue sweater that Diana could tell was home knit. Everyday she brought a lunch bag bulging with her mother’s sandwiches and red-cheeked apples from their tree. How could she possibly understand?

 

Diana sniffled and felt guilty. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that she had no time to make her lunch anymore. Diana was suddenly mad. “Just shut up, Trixie Belden.” At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

 

Diana didn’t have a corner on the mad market. Trixie stamped her foot. “I will not, Di Lynch!”

 

A teacher emerged into the hallway. Diana and Trixie glanced at each other and did the first thing that came into their minds. They ran.

 

They didn’t stop until they were around the corner and down the next corridor. Trixie grabbed Diana’s arm. “What’s going on? I know something is, so stop lying!”

 

Diana stared at her for a moment and then, unexpectedly, began to laugh. It felt good. As Trixie’s face got redder, she laughed harder.

 

“Oh…oh…Trixie, I’m sorry. I…” Diana stopped and impulsively grabbed Trixie’s hand. “Can you come home with me after school?” She could look in the mirror if Trixie was with her. And she could tell her about the way the pencil felt, jerking through her fingers and Trixie was just so normal. What could possibly happen if Trixie was there?

 

Trixie brightened. “If Moms says I can,” she promised.

 

Diana felt suddenly lighter. She looked at Trixie, lowering her eyes shyly. “I’m sorry I yelled before.”

 

“Me too.”

 

The nurse popped her head out of the office door. “Well, are you girls going to stand out there all day?” she demanded.

 

Diana and Trixie looked at each other and began to giggle as the Nurse scowled at them.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

“It was right here.” Diana pointed at the mirror.

 

Trixie gazed at a small gob of toothpaste in the corner of the mirror for a moment. “Are you sure?” At Diana’s expression she hastily added, “I mean, I just want to make sure.”

 

Diana nodded. “Yes. I saw…I don’t know. It was weird. Scary.” She absentmindedly wiped off the toothpaste while Trixie tapped her teeth. She tossed the washcloth into the hamper and the two girls walked into Diana’s bedroom.

 

“I thought at first it was just, you know, how when you stare at yourself and sometimes your face changes?”

 

Trixie nodded in agreement, flopping onto Diana’s bed and kicking off her shoes all in one motion.

 

Diana sat down carefully next to her. “But when that stuff happened in class today…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Diana lay down next to her friend and they stared at the ceiling for a minute.

 

Trixie rolled over onto her stomach and propped her chin in her hands. “Let me see that paper again.”

 

Diana found her backpack and retrieved the requested item, not wanting to look at the unfamiliar writing again. She handed it to Trixie without a word.

 

Trixie studied it for a moment. “And you didn’t…”

 

“Trixie!”

 

Trixie held up her hands for a moment. “All right! I was just asking!” She stared at the paper again. “Dark. Cold. Help. Blood.”

 

Diana shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

 

“It has to be a message!” Trixie said, her blue eyes alight with curiosity.

 

“But from who?”

 

Trixie was about to reply when a small girl ran into the room.

 

“Di, Robin hit me!”

 

Trixie stifled a laugh as Diana groaned; the little girl looked exactly like a thundercloud, her small face a study of rage.

 

“Hit her back,” Diana suggested. Donna immediately brightened and left the room.

 

Trixie didn’t even try to hold back her snort.

 

Diana shrugged. “Well, they have to work it out for themselves, you know?” She glanced at the Mickey Mouse clock on her nightstand. “Oh boy, it’s later than I thought. I have to start dinner for my mom.”

 

“You have to cook dinner?”

 

Diana flushed; she was sure Trixie had never had to set foot in a kitchen in her life. “No,” she said shortly. “I just get stuff started. Chop vegetables, that sort of thing.”

 

Trixie was nodding. “Oh, yeah. I have to help Moms out with stuff like that.” She wrinkled her nose. “AND I have to dust. A lot!”

 

Diana laughed and felt relieved. “You do?” She looked at her friend shyly. “Do you do a lot around the house?”

 

They left Diana’s room, the sound of the television set blaring in the small apartment.

 

“Turn that down!” Diana called. There was an immediate blurring of sound, and the two girls went into the small kitchen.

 

Trixie shrugged. “Sure. We all do. Well, except for Bobby. But he’s only four. He’s a brat. But he’s real cute, too.”

 

Diana rolled her eyes expressively. “So are my brothers and sisters. And any minute now, Larry and Terry will be back and everybody will want a snack.”

 

“Sounds like Bobby. And Mart. Mart eats like a horse.” Trixie wondered why Diana blushed all of the sudden. “Hey, why don’t I make the snack while you start dinner?”

 

“Would you?”

 

Trixie shrugged. “Sure. I’ve made stuff for Bobby lots of times.”

 

While the girls worked they talked about the mysterious writing and the face Diana had seen in the mirror again. “You know what this reminds me of? I saw this show. On Creature Feature?”

 

“You watch Creature Feature?”

 

Trixie grinned. “I’m not supposed to, but every now and then I sneak downstairs and watch it. Anyway, there was this episode, and this girl was playing with a Ouija board and it was so cool! She called up this demon and she ended up being possessed!”

 

Diana gasped. “You think I’ve been possessed by a demon?”

 

Trixie deftly place several apple slices with peanut butter spread on them on a plate. “No. I just meant that the girl ended up doing something without meaning to, too. She drew this really scary picture in crayon on her wall.”

 

Diana’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to be possessed,” she whispered.

 

Trixie felt bad and wished she hadn’t brought it up. “Well, maybe this is something different.”

 

Larry and Terry rushed noisily into the apartment just then, carrying in the smell of spring with them and there was no time to discuss it any further. With the four children crowding into the kitchen, shouting over Trixie’s snack, Trixie thought it was just as loud as her own house when everyone was home. She looked around the neat little kitchen. It was sure different from the large kitchen back at Crabapple Farm, where she lived with her parents and three brothers, but she liked it here.

 

“It must be so cool, living in town,” she said, raising her voice slightly to be heard.

 

Diana smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I guess,” was all she said, but what she was thinking was what difference did it make when she never had any time for herself? She squashed the bad thought immediately.

 

There was a knock on the front door. “Who could that be?” Diana wondered aloud.

 

“Who is it? Who is it?” the twin girls started to chant, loudly.

 

“It’s Mart Belden!” a voice called from behind the door.

 

All thoughts of possession fled from Diana’s mind at the sound.

 

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Moms must be waiting. Mart had to stay after and work on a project in the library, so I got to come here.”

 

Diana took a deep breath and opened the door.

 

“Greetings, Lame Brain,” Mart announced, with all the arrogant loftiness of a boy who is one year older than the girl he is talking to. Even if she was the prettiest girl in school. And even if, for some reason, his hands always got a bit clammy when she was around.

 

Diana sniffed. “Hello to you too, Brillo head.”

 

Trixie began to giggle as Mart scowled. “See you later, Di. We’ll talk more about you being possessed tomor…”

 

“Trixie!” Diana gasped.

 

“Possessed?” Mart asked, simultaneously.

 

“Oops,” Trixie mumbled.

 

Diana wanted to cry. She also wanted to kick Trixie until she was dead.

 

“What are you girls up to?” Mart demanded.

 

Diana and Trixie looked at each other, then at Mart. Then they both began to talk at once.

 

Mart held up his hands. “Puhleeze! One at a time!” Then he frowned. “On second thought, it pains me to say that I will have to acquire my information from my fuzzy-headed sibling. The hour grows late.”

 

Trixie threw her hands over her ears; lately, Mart had been using the biggest words he knew, and his Professor Belden act was about to drive her completely insane.

 

Mart abruptly became a twelve-year-old boy again. “C’mon. Moms is waiting for us.”

 

Trixie shot Diana a ‘sorry I have such a big mouth’ look as Mart dragged her out the door and was rewarded with a shrug and a tiny smile.

 

Diana closed the door after them and leaned heavily against it for a moment. She supposed Mart Belden thought she was crazy. Then she sighed. Maybe she was crazy. After all, she couldn’t really be possessed. That kind of stuff only happened in the movies.

 

Didn’t it?

 

Chapter 4

 

Trixie was getting ready for bed when the phone rang for her.

 

“Not too long,” Moms called up the stairs.

 

“Kay!” Trixie sank into the window seat in the hall. For a moment all she heard was a kind of sniffling hiccup.

 

“Di?” she asked, hesitantly.

 

There was silence, then—“Oh, Trixie! I’m so scared!”

 

Trixie clutched the phone tighter. “What happened?” Her blue eyes grew rounder as she listened.

 

By the time Diana finished her narrative, Trixie was on her feet, her mouth hanging open.  “Oh, Diana,” she said weakly. She could hear the other girl burst into tears. “It’s going to be okay,” Trixie said awkwardly. “Have you told your parents?

Another sob. “Oh Trixie, how can I? They’ll think I’m crazy. And my Dad’s so busy right now and my Mom, and I just don’t want to worry them, and there’s just so much to do! I…we…have so much…” Diana’s voice was an anguished whisper.

 

“Listen. Tomorrow’s Friday, and I…I can…spend the night,” Trixie gulped.

 

“Could you?” Diana’s voice was full of relief, and Trixie’s resolve immediately strengthened, her fear lessening. She had a plan. And if it worked, it could potentially be the most exciting thing that ever happened to her. After explaining it in detail to Diana, she hung up the phone, her heart beating so hard she wondered if the whole world could hear it.

 

***

 

It had happened right after her bath.

 

Diana stood in front of the mirror, feeling sleepy and cozy in the warmth of the steam-filled bathroom. She reached out with her towel to wipe away the condensation then froze as the first letter began to appear, as if…as if…

 

As if somebody, or something was writing.

 

“Mom,” Diana said, but it only came out as a croak. “Daddy,” she whispered. Her throat simply wouldn’t cooperate. Her legs began to tremble.

 

R…e…b…

 

Diana stared in horror as the rest of the name become visible.

 

“Rebecca,” she whispered.

 

The lights in the bathroom flickered, and Diana fled, only one thing on her mind.

 

Trixie. Gotta call Trixie.

 

***

 

Trixie and Diana found a relatively quiet corner of the lunchroom and bent over their sandwiches, the ghosts of a thousand bologna and cheese sandwiches, cartons of milk and mystery meat filling the air.

 

“Did you find it?” Diana asked. Her face was pale.

 

Trixie nodded so vigorously her sandy curls bounced. “Yes.”

 

Diana took a deep breath. “Do you think it will work?”

 

Trixie was about to reply when suddenly, to her extreme annoyance, her brother Mart appeared at her side.

 

“Go away,” she said rudely.

 

Mart ignored her and sat down. “Listen,” he began.

 

Trixie sighed noisily. “If you’ve come over here to make jokes, just go away.” She tossed her head. “We have…we have BUSINESS.” To her surprise Mart merely looked at her, an unusually serious expression filling his face.

 

“I heard you guys. Last night. On the phone.”

 

Trixie’s face turned red. “You sneak,” she hissed.

 

Mart had the grace to look embarrassed. “I know. But I was worried about…” he broke off and his face reddened for a moment.

 

Trixie was madder than a wet hen. “This is none of your business, Martin Belden.”

 

“Hey Mart! Who’s your girlfriend?”

 

Mart reddened even more as a group of boys from his class began to catcall from across the room. “It’s your sister!” he called back, causing the table to roar with laughter. “Come with me to the playground,” he whispered to the girls.

 

Trixie’s natural curiosity easily overcame her anger. “What for?”

 

“It’s raining,” Diana said at the same time.

 

Mart stood up. “I know. But it’s important. Come on!”

 

They exited the warm lunchroom and turned down the hallway, finding the door that led to the main playground. “Over here,” Mart said, gesturing towards a small shed used by the custodian. They rushed through the rain, Mart tugging the steel door open so they could hustle inside.

 

There was enough weak light coming through the one window for them to avoid the lawnmower, sacks of fertilizer and paraphernalia. As they awkwardly arranged themselves, Mart silently handed Diana a copy of a news article.

 

“Read,” he said simply.

 

Trixie crowded next to her and together they read, the sound of the rain beating on the roof above them like thousands of tapping fingernails.

 

AFTER 20 YEARS, A FAMILY STILL ASKS

REBECCA, WHERE ARE YOU?

 

On April 8, 1963, Rebecca Overton, 14, vanished from Birch Brook Manor, an apartment complex in downtown Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson, New York, which is in Westchester County.

 

Witnesses saw her playing that day and investigators said it was like the earth opened up and swallowed her.

 

But police said the state hasn't had an unsolved child abduction involving a suspect who was a stranger to the victim, in several years, Rebecca’s mother, Judith Overton, stated. And no evidence was ever found to support such a theory.

 

No one has ever discovered what happened to her despite the efforts of the Police, FBI and many missing person organizations.

 

"It is very unusual to have a stranger abduction. Those are the exceptions. Usually it is a runaway. A child upset will run away from the family. Parental abductions account for about 5 percent," Sleepyside Police spokesman Wendell Molinson said.

 

However, according to Molinson, whose father was involved in the original investigation, the Rebecca Overton case still baffles authorities 20 years later. Investigators would still like to close the case.

 

"We'd like to know what happened to her. If she's alive, we'd like to get her back to her folks. If she's buried somewhere, we'd like to get closure for the family," retired Sleepyside Chief George Molinson said.

 

In a few days, Mr. and Mrs. William Overton will rise in the pre-dawn darkness of their Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson home and perform their yearly ritual. On the anniversary of their daughter’s disappearance they join family and friends for a day of prayer and remembrance.

 

Her father recalled how Rebecca dreamed of someday being a veterinarian. “It feels as if you have been shot in the heart but you didn't die. And there are many days I feel like I have died, or that I truly would like to die, the pain is that great.”

 

Anyone with information on Rebecca Overton’s whereabouts is asked to call Sleepyside’s missing persons unit at 229-LOST (5678), Secret Witness at 385-5555 or the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children at (800) 843-5678.

 

“Where did you get this?” Diana gasped.

 

“At the library. We’re supposed to bring interesting articles to class so we can talk about them,” Mart explained. “When I heard you talk about the name you saw in the mirror…”

 

“We have to call the police!” Trixie yelled.

 

Mart grabbed her arm before she could move. “And tell them what? That Di saw the name “Rebecca” drawn on her bathroom mirror? They’d throw us all in the loony bin!”

 

“But Mart…what if it’s her?” Diana said, her eyes filled with tears. “Those poor people,” she whispered.

 

“What do you think we should do, then?” Trixie demanded. “We have to do something!”

 

Mart frowned. “I don’t know,” he admitted. This was so far from his world of chores, baseball and adventure stories that he didn’t know what to think.

 

Diana wiped at the wetness on her face. “I think we should go through with your plan, Trixie. Maybe she can tell us what we need to do.” At Mart’s skeptical look she continued, “I know it sounds crazy. But Mart…she’s been trying to tell me something. I’ve been so scared. I thought…well, I thought I was being possessed. But now I know she’s just needs help.”

 

Mart began to pace. “But this is so crazy! Are you trying to tell me there’s a ghost in your apartment?”

 

Diana stamped her foot. “Well, what would YOU call it? I didn’t write that name myself, you know. And I did see a face in the mirror the other day. I did!” She faced Mart squarely, her violet eyes blazing, black hair streaming down her back. “Do you think I’m crazy, Mart Belden?”

 

“No,” he mumbled, gazing at his dirty sneakers. He looked up, his face suddenly determined. “I don’t know if you guys should even try. What if it’s dangerous?”

 

Diana shook her head. “She’s never tried to hurt me, Mart.” As the words left her lips, she realized the truth of them and felt a sudden loosening of the terror that had been filling her for the past few days. “She needs me,” she said softly. “She needs us.”

 

Chapter 5

 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Diana said, eyeing Trixie dubiously. Trixie had easily obtained permission to spend the night and the two girls had thought the Lynch family would never go to bed.  It had been especially challenging persuading Diana's twin sisters that they'd have much more fun if they slept out on the sofa, but Trixie and Diana managed it.

 

The two girls sat on Diana’s bed, the apartment still and quiet. Diana’s fluffy white cat, Sophie, lay purring next to them, all four legs in the air.

 

Trixie nodded, her blue eyes shining with excitement. She drew a wooden board from the bag. “This was my grandmother’s ouija board,” she said, her voice low. “I found it in the attic underneath a bunch of old clothes.” She lowered her voice further. “It’s supposed to let the spirits of the dead contact the living.”

 

Diana shivered at the words, despite her resolve not to be frightened anymore. She absently stroked Sophie’s soft belly. “What do we do now?”

 

“Now we have a séance. I’ll be the medium and you be the receiver. You’re the one she’s talking to, after all.” She lit the candle they’d taken from the table and shut off Diana’s bedside lamp. Trixie then took Diana’s hands in hers and lay them gently on the planchette. “Relax and don’t force it to move.” She took a deep breath and hoped she was doing it right. “Rebecca Overton,” she intoned in her best serious voice. “Tell us where you are. Let us help you.”

 

Nothing happened. Diana let out a nervous giggle. “This is kind of weird, Trix.”

 

Trixie grinned. “I know, but my grandmother used to swear it worked. My dad says it’s all nonsense, and that it’s the people themselves that are moving the pointer.”

 

Trixie repeated the words a few times, slowly and clearly. Diana found herself beginning to yawn. It was midnight and she was very tired. “Trixie, let’s…” Diana gasped as the pointer moved violently.

 

Sophie stiffened and hissed, her back arching in the air. She swiftly leapt off the bed and ran underneath it, yowling.

 

The candle blew out as an icy chill cut through the room, plunging them into darkness. Diana bit back a scream as Trixie swiftly snapped the lamp back on.

 

“The letter ‘P’!” Trixie hissed excitedly. She grabbed Diana’s hand and put them back on the ouija board. “Don’t stop now!”

 

Diana whimpered, her previous fear returning full force, but she obediently kept her hands on the pointer.

 

“L..a..t..t,” Trixie read. “It’s working!”

 

“Shhh!” Diana reminded her.

 

The room slowly warmed, and the two girls waited, unconsciously holding her breath, but nothing more happened. Diana glanced at her clock and a shiver tore down her spine as she realized it had stopped, right on the dot, at midnight.

 

“Platt,” Trixie finally said. “Platt. Do you think that’s the name of her kidnapper?” When Diana didn’t reply, she repeated the question. “Are you listening to me?” she finally demanded.

 

“Trixie,” Diana whispered. Her eyes were huge. “Trixie, the maintenance man is named Mr. Platt. He lives right in this building!” She stood up. “Let’s go call the police!”

 

Trixie shook her head. “We can’t, Di. What if we’re wrong? What if”—she swallowed and continued in a small voice—“what if my dad is right and you were the one who moved the pointer? We could get in so much trouble for making a false accusation!”

 

“What about the room getting cold? What about the candle blowing out right when the pointer moved?” Diana demanded.

 

“Di, we have to have more. The police are never going to believe two eleven-year-old girls know who took Rebecca Overton because a ouija board told them. We have to get some clues, some proof!” Trixie pleaded.

 

“But how?”

 

Trixie looked at her. “We have to go into his apartment.”

 

Diana’s eyes widened. “We can’t do that!”

 

“We have to.”

 

Diana hugged herself. “What are we going to say? ‘Hello, Mr. Platt. We think you kidnapped Rebecca Overton 20 years ago and we’re here to look for clues’?”

 

“Of course not!” Trixie snapped, impatiently. She began to pace quickly back and forth. “We call him. Tomorrow. We say there’s a big problem in the apartment and that he has to come fix it right away. And while he’s here, we sneak into his apartment and look for clues.”

 

Diana’s mind was racing. “But what if he sees us, passes us in the hallway?”

 

Trixie shrugged. “So? He won’t know where we’re going.”

 

Diana looked troubled. “I don’t know…”

 

Trixie brightened. “I know! We’ll call Mart from the payphone in your lobby in the morning, tell him what happened and have him call Mr. Platt. Then we can wait a few minutes to be sure he’s gone up the stairs, and then we’ll sneak in there. What do you say?”

 

“I suppose that would work,” Diana said, slowly. She looked at her friend. “But won’t the door be locked?” She picked up her clock and moved the minute hand forward, re-setting it.

 

Trixie grinned. “I know this neat trick I saw on a Starsky & Hutch re-run. I’ve been dying to try it.”

 

In spite of everything, Diana laughed—Trixie looked so enthusiastic about the idea. “All right,” she agreed impulsively.

 

It took some persuading, but Mart finally agreed to their plan the next morning, Diana marveling at Trixie’s persuasive powers. “We’re not going to have much time,” Diana warned as they crept down the stairs towards Mr. Platt’s basement apartment. “My parents are going to tell him nothing is wrong and he’ll be back in no time flat.” She sighed, suddenly realizing how stupid it all was.

 

“No they won’t. I told your mom all about the terrible leak in the bathroom sink this morning. The same leak I just had Mart report.”

 

Diana’s head began to spin. “What leak?”

 

Trixie grinned. “The one I just caused by screwing around with the pipes earlier!”

 

“Trixie!” Diana half laughed, half gasped. She stared at her friend as if she’d never seen her before.

 

Trixie’s eyes were shining. “We’ll have plenty of time. It’s pretty bad,” she said proudly. Then her face reddened. “Er, sorry,” she mumbled, but Diana only laughed at her.

 

They reached the door and Diana watched as Trixie removed a plastic card from her pocket and began wiggling it between the door and the doorjamb. “Brian’s student body card,” she explained.

 

Diana’s jaw dropped as the door popped open.

 

“We’re in!” Trixie whispered excitedly.

 

Diana’s heart pounded as they crept inside, softly shutting the door behind them. Food-encrusted dishes covered every available surface, papers everywhere, and her nose wrinkled in disgust.

 

"Listen! Smell something?" Trixie asked.

 

The incongruity of the question confused her for a moment until she realized Trixie was referring to the loud bubbling of a very dirty aquarium standing in the corner. It stank.

 

“What are we looking for?” Diana whispered.

 

“I don’t know,” Trixie admitted. “But hurry!”

 

They glanced around the messy living room for a moment then headed down a small hall to the bedroom.

 

“Gross,” Trixie commented, smelling stale cigarette smoke mixing with the undeniable smell of unwashed socks. She opened the drawer to the nightstand next to the bed and gasped.

 

“What?” Diana said, coming to stand by her. She let out a gasp of her own.

 

In the drawer were several pictures. And in each of them, the subject was a pretty young girl.

 

A pretty, young girl with black hair and lavender colored eyes.

 

They were pictures of Diana.

 

As Diana stood, gaping, her entire body began to tingle. She let out a moan, feeling as if every pore was being stretched with the goose bumps that tore up and down her body. Something was happening to her.

 

“Di, are you okay?” Trixie asked, looking at her friend. She froze, staring at her. “D-Di?” she stammered. She shivered as the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

 

Diana stood woodenly, her head cocked at an unfamiliar angle. She stared at Trixie with alien eyes.

 

Unfamiliar eyes.

 

Trixie’s knees weakened. “Are you…Rebecca?”

 

Diana turned and walked jerkily out of the room. Trixie hesitated only a moment then followed her as she walked back into the hall and into the other bedroom, which was obviously being used for storage.

 

Diana stopped, her arm slowly reaching out in front of her. Her index finger extended downward.

 

Trixie looked, seeing nothing expect for years of accumulated junk and a blue area rug a bit on the mangy side.

 

“What? What am I looking for?” Trixie squeaked. She tried to remember a time when she felt this terrified and came up blank.

 

Rebecca pointed again, more violently.

 

“Under here? Under the carpet?” Trixie asked.

 

Rebecca nodded.

 

Trixie moved several boxes to the side of the room until she’d cleared a large area. She began rolling up the carpet until the floorboards were exposed. There were several that were slightly raised and loose. She looked wildly around the room, relieved to find an old hammer lying on the ground. She picked it up and took a deep, steadying breath.

 

Hearing a gasping sound, she swiftly turned.

 

“Di!” she cried, relieved to see her friend staring back at her once more. “Help me!”

 

The two girls bent down, Diana wedging her fingers under the closest board and tugging as Trixie used the hammer. The exposed nails seemed to shriek in pain as Trixie pried them out of the old dry timber.

 

Trixie was breathing hard and Diana had broken into a sweat by the time they’d freed all four of the loose boards.

 

They stared at them. “Diana, we don’t have to do this,” Trixie finally said, her heart pounding with more than exertion.

 

Diana’s voice shook a little as she said, “Yes, we do.”

 

Trixie nodded and the two friends knelt down, their hands shaking as they lifted the boards and laid them aside. The light poured in from a window high above them. They leaned in to look.

 

Two inches from their noses, a skeletal finger reached towards them.

 

Trixie scrambled frantically away as Diana screamed. She knocked Diana off balance, and the two girls fell backwards in a tangled heap.

 

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

 

The two girls looked up into the angry face of Mr. Platt as he stared down at them.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

Trixie’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. She could hear Diana whimpering in fear and clutched her hand in hers. It was as cold as ice.

 

Mr. Platt was wearing an old pair of blue coveralls; “Ted” stitched in lighter blue on the pocket. His face was pocked with old acne scars, his eyes dark and soulless looking.

 

“Get up,” he said, his voice harsh.

 

Trembling, the girls began to obey.

 

“On second thought, stay right where you are,” Mr. Platt said. He smiled, and both girls went cold at the sight of it. It was not a smile that spoke of anything good, indeed, it was a smile of such malice that each girl’s heart stopped for a moment. “I like you down there,” he whispered. He reached out a foot and grazed Diana’s calf. “See what being a nosy little girl gets you?”

 

Diana began to sob. “Please don’t hurt us!”

 

“Shut up!” Mr. Platt hissed. He drew back his foot.

 

“Don’t!” Trixie yelled.

 

Mr. Platt paused and began to laugh. “What do you think you’re going to do about it, little lady?”

 

Trixie gulped. “Don’t,” she repeated, weakly.

 

She closed her eyes as large hands began to reach for her.

 

“Freeze!”

 

Trixie’s eyes flew open at the sound.

 

Mr. Platt whirled around just as two policemen bounded into the room, a third officer right behind them. They all had guns drawn, and Mr. Platt gave up without a fight as Trixie and Diana hugged each other.

 

“Holy Christ,” Investigator Molinson breathed, gazing at the hole in the floor.

 

Trixie and Diana looked at each other, and Trixie nodded encouragingly.

 

Diana took a deep breath. “Meet Rebecca Overton,” she said.

 

Epilogue

 

It was Mart, of course, who had called the police, immediately after calling Mr. Platt.

 

“You didn’t really think I’d just go along one hundred percent with that cockamamie plan did you?” Mart demanded later, in the cozy kitchen at Crabapple Farm.

 

Trixie sputtered indignantly. “What do you mean, cocka…whatever? It worked, didn’t it? We found out what happened to Rebecca, didn’t we?”

 

“You could have been killed,” Mrs. Belden said heavily. She placed two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in front of her children, her hands slightly shaking. “And Mart, I can’t believe you went along with ANY of that plan. What on earth possessed you to call that…that…man?”

 

Mart turned beet red while Trixie dropped her eyes. Both she and Diana had already gotten a similar lecture from a very shaken Mr. and Mrs. Lynch. When she had left, her white-faced parents marching her out of the Lynch apartment, she thought she heard both ‘grounded’ and ‘too much responsibility on a girl so young’ coming from Diana’s parents.

 

“I’m sorry, Moms.” Trixie whispered.

 

“I just wanted him to get caught for what he did,” Mart said, earnestly.

 

Mr. and Mrs. Belden looked at each other. Mr. Belden cleared his throat. “Son, I know you meant well.” He looked at his daughter and his chest tightened. She was gazing up at him with his wife’s blue eyes and curly hair, small and sturdy and unbelievably precious to him. “You broke into a strange man’s apartment. A man you suspected of murdering a young girl. What the HELL were you thinking?” His voice rose during the last part of his speech and Trixie’s face dropped into her hands as she began to cry.

 

He swiftly went to her and pulled her up from her chair and into his arms. His hand moved to the back of her head as she buried her face into his chest, gently stroking her hair. “You have no idea what could have happened to you today. You just don’t understand.”

 

She didn’t, really. It would be many years before she did.

 

***

 

Later that evening, long after everyone had gone to sleep, Diana lay flat on her back in bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep. After her parents had finished lecturing her on the danger and stupidity of her and Trixie’s actions, they had finally asked her why; why she hadn’t come to them, her mother bursting into sobs when Diana told them that she didn’t think they had the time or the energy for it.

 

They had talked earnestly for hours, Diana’s parents determined to find the right balance between family responsibility and letting Diana be a little girl and, in the end, they were all closer for it.

 

Diana knew that, no matter what happened, the Lynch family would make it. She felt proud of them all.

 

Her thoughts drifted to the Overtons. Now they would finally know the truth about what happened to their daughter, how Mr. Platt had become obsessed with Rebecca, and the tragic consequences of that obsession. She shivered when she remembered the pictures in Mr. Platt’s nightstand and understood something.

 

Rebecca had not come back because she needed help.

 

Tears began to course from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and into her ears. She wished so much that there was no evil in the world, wishing, most of all, that Rebecca was here, that she had gotten to live her life. It just wasn’t fair.

 

“I’m sorry,” she gasped aloud, turning her face into her pillow. She quietly sobbed for a few minutes before adding, “Rest in peace, Rebecca.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but she had heard grown-ups say something similar when somebody had died. And for her, it felt like she had lost a good friend, as if Rebecca had died today, not twenty years ago. Exhaustion finally overtook her and she fell into a deep sleep.

 

The morning sun was just beginning to rise as Diana’s eyes slowly opened. She stretched, glancing at the clock on her nightstand and started, a smile filling her.

 

For the clock was stopped at Midnight.

 

Midnight on the dot.

 

The End 

 

Author's notes:

 

Extra thanks to Kate, for making my title graphic and for walking me through my new FTP program; and to SJaye for walking me through downloading fonts. *kees* *kees*!

 

Required elements found in this story are as follows:

 

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