Summer. Full of hot, long, pityful days. Only I knew. I knew that my life was always going to be long and pityful. It was just not hot. That was summer's job. But, no one knew that I could see things. No, I can't see dead people. Well sort of. I can see ghosts. These aren't any ordinary ghosts. Oh, no. They are nasty ghosts. I mean nasty. If I got a penny for every time I have been close to death I'd be a millioneir. I'm not joking either. But that day. The 21st of July 2008. Was one of the most terrorfing days of my life. I'm a though girl too. I mean, when hell- bent ghosts attack me, I don't scream like a pansy.
I can't count how many times I've been in hospital. Hey it's not my fault. These vengeful ghosts don't like me. I don't like them. I'm not all nice to them. One has even put me in prison! You expect me to be nice to them? I suppose there is some nice ghosts. But they tend to be confused. I useally have to say to them these frightful words. "Your dead,"and no they don't take it well. Then they turn on me. Nobody knows but me. I hate it. Why me?
But there is one good thing. I love hearing their stories. How they died. Where they died. What they did. How they lived, what time they lived in. I even met WiIIiam II. And Henry I. I had to stop them fighting each other. Henry nearly shot me in the back. He managed to hit William. Again. Those two never stop fighting. I met Hitler. I met Gilbert and Sullivan - they sang me a song.
But that day. It wasn't so good. George, my older sbrother, came running downstair crying. "It's mum. And dad. I think they are dead." Suddenly, a figure appeared next to me. "Hi sweetie." The voice was so familer to me. But it sounded cold and airy. I turned round. It was my dad. I turned round and stared at George. My heart was thumping. Then the figure dissapeared. So then I left the house. In distress. What? I was under pressure. Then I met a ghost. Her eyes seemed to gleam in the daylight.
" Oh, hello. What's your story." I sighed. Still in distress but suddenly there was blackness. I heard a sieren. "Don't worry, young lady. Your going to be okay" young lady? I'm 16. Why would I be a younge lady? Anyway... "Can you stand up at all?" I couldn't. I felt this pain before. I had broken something. I still couldn't see. Then someone wiped my eyes, from blood. It was my Mum. She was crying. What had happened to me? Then I remembered. The ghost. That hell-bent ghost. Surely it did this to me. Of course. Who else would. It was Maria Lander.
Maria Lander. Her story. Well, when she was 12 her father James Lander had just come out of a pub. A couple of days later, died. He haunt's the pub near a fire place. He's often heard or seen drinking Pub Ales and saying 3 words. "Cac Splio Splac" Some people think he's sayimg jibber jabber, but I think not. It is believed, he drank so many Ales he got drunk. So talked funny and is atuchally saying something else. Maria got so angry with the pub, she started to trash the place. The manager wasn't very happy, so kidnapped her and took her to a mountin and pushed her off it. The manager was arrested later that day.