New Friends

 

“Thanks for walking me home guys,” I walked up the steps, and then turned around to wave goodbye.

“See you tomorrow,” Joey said.

“What’s going on tomorrow?” my mother wanted to know. I cringed and held my breath, hoping no one would tell her the truth. Thankfully no one said a word. The silence was deafening so I finally opened my mouth.

“They’re going to show me around town and show me where Saint Andrews is,” I said really quickly, before someone else said something different. “And they’re going to show me where the library is too,” I tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Okay, but make sure you do some unpacking,” she looked at me and then at them. “We have a lot of work to do, you know. Let me have that bag,” she reached for it as I handed it to her. Then she went inside.

I took a deep breath and then sighed. I was so relieved, because she actually believed me and she was going to let me go. I looked at my new friends. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” they said at the same time. I smiled at them and they smiled back. “Don’t forget…the bridge at 1:00,” Joey smiled at me again.

“I won’t forget,” I stayed on the porch and watched them walk toward Robin’s house. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all. But then I remembered Mrs. Dutton, and what she said to me. The words echoed in my ears. “Those who do…end up dead,” I shivered.

 

 

 

Evelyn Grinstead

 

I ran my fingers along the spins of the books and then I saw a photo resting on one of the stacks. I picked it up to get a better look. There was a young girl in the photo, about the same age as me, I guess. She had a long white dress on and long wavy hair. But more importantly, Raven Hill was in the background. I stared at it.

“Have you found any good books yet?” Mrs. Grinstead asked.

I turned around; the photo was still in my hand. “Ummm…not yet.”

“I see you found my photo,” she glanced at the picture in my hand. “That was a long time ago.”

“Is this you?”

“Yes, I was twelve when that photo was taken,” she walked in the room carrying a tray of steaming hot tea and a plate of cookies. “It was 1912. That was the last time I was at Raven Hill,” she looked at me, and then put the tray down on the table. “Have a seat,” she motioned toward the chair and then she sat down in the other one.

I handed her the photo. She stared at it for a few seconds. No doubt, remembering the day the photo was taken. “It looks like you were having fun,” I smiled when she looked at me.

“Oh, yes. It was a wonderful day,” she glanced at the photo again. “It was the last 4th of July Celebration at Raven Hill,” she looked sad.  “Every year they had one. Practically the whole town was there,” she took a sip of her tea.

“Why was that the last one?” I blew on my tea and then took a sip. It was really hot.

“Because a few months later, something dreadful happened there,” she looked into my eyes. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories already. The legend of the woman in black,” she took another sip and then put her tea cup down.

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