Imaginary Ghosts

“Moni? What, are we giving them nicknames now?” “That’s what her friends called her, I’ve read so much that I’ve slipped into that habit.” “Well slip out of it. You never met her. Here’s your book.” “Thanks,” Viv said, flipping through the pages. “None of this is accurate.” “How would you know?” Mara asked. “Look, I’m running off of two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee, which I don’t even drink, normally. Cut me some slack. Mara, if I give you a twenty dollar bill, will you run to the store and grab me some juice boxes? I’m craving them right now.” “Yeah, yeah. But you owe me,” Mara said, reluctantly grabbing the money. “But if there’s change, and there will be, I’m not giving it back.” Genevieve had a few moments of silence before Monique looked up from the book she was reading. “She really can’t see me.” “I know. Did you find Ella?” “Yeah, she won’t leave your basement.”

“Did you see anyone else?”&nbsp; “No. Why is being a ghost so lonely?” “If this guy’s not caught soon, it won’t be,” Viv said, picking up a few books and putting them back on the shelf. “I can’t believe my ‘imaginary friends’ were actually just ghosts.” “Is that a familial thing? Can your dad see ghosts?” “He would have at least seen Ella, so no.” “Maybe it skips a generation or something.” Viv suddenly recalled what Mrs Bennett said about her uncle, Robert. That he’d had an imaginary friend by the name of her dead husband. She started rapidly putting books back on the shelves, and pushed her chair in. “We have to go back to my house.” “What? Why?” Moni asked, frowning as the book she was reading was snatched from in front of her face. “I think my uncle could see ghosts. All of his old things -diaries, toys, clothes- are in my basement.” “With Ella.”

“All of those imaginary friends from my childhood, the ‘hallucinations’ I’ve been having, they’re real, aren’t you?” “I’m pretty sure I’m real,” Monique said, and paused before continuing, “But how would I know I’m not? This is confusing my brain.” Soon, the police arrived, and Genevieve told them everything she could, though she didn’t tell them what Monique had told her. Her father came to pick her up from the station, where one of the officers had taken her to warm up. They sat in his truck, silently driving back towards their house. She noticed that gray had started seeping into his brown hair. He kept pushing his glasses up, framing his brown eyes. She sat up. She was almost taller than him now. What if… No, it couldn’t be.

Chapter Seven- Mara Andrews “So why exactly do you want to research the Shoe killer again?” Mara asked, dumping a bunch of old newspapers on the library table. It was a quiet Saturday afternoon in the empty library, where Viv had spent the past two hours, her nose in every book she could find on serial killers. “That guy stopped killing people, like, twenty years ago. He’s probably dead, or in prison from some other crime.” “Nineteen,” Viv corrected. “Or he could have suffered a recent loss, or trigger, and started killing again.” “You watch way too many crime shows.” “You didn’t even lock your doors at night until this happened.” “Shut up about that, Viv. I thought serial killers didn’t stop killing.” “Well, this one did. Hey, can you grab that book on ghosts from over there? “You really are going insane, aren’t you?” Mara grumbled, grabbing it off of the shelf. “What are you gonna say next, the ghost is haunting you?” “Moni’s, like, the fifth victim.”

with you just a few months later.” “It’s weird to me that he died, like, ten months before I was born.” “Nine months,” her father corrected. “Did you take Ginger out?” Ginger looked up at her name, her tail wagging. “Mara did.” He noticed the juice boxes on the counter. “Don’t drink too many of these, Viv. Too much sugar.” “Mara’s drinking them too,” Viv said, her mind racing when she processed what her father said. “What was uncle Robert into?” “He played soccer for a couple of years. He was actually a pretty normal kid, besides the fact that he was obsessed with the dead. I don’t know why, we were polar opposites. He knew a lot about local history. It’s funny, when he was little he used to wave to the graves at the cemetery.” “Huh. Well, we have homework, so…” Viv and Mara went upstairs. While Mara drew the setting sun, Viv kind of got into a trance, putting the pieces together.&nbsp; She inherited whatever this was from her uncle. He’d died nine months before she was born.

She just wished she could talk to him… “I gotta leave, Viv,” Mara said. “It’s getting dark.” “What? You could stay here, Mars. With what’s going on, you shouldn’t be walking alone.” “It’s fine. I’m not his victim type or whatever.” They picked up their bag, and left, before Viv could say another word. They shut the door behind them. Viv picked up her earbuds, trying to focus on music, rather than the fact that her friend was walking home alone with a vicious serial killer on the loose. She’d almost fallen asleep when she heard Mara’s panicked voice. “It’s your dad. Your dads the Shoe Killer.” Genevieve jumped out of bed, staring into the eyes of a shade of Mara. “And he got me.” A chill rose on Viv’s arms, and she turned to look behind her.&nbsp; “You weren’t supposed to know that.”

officer Viv had met earlier, said. “Everyone should go home.” “Is she alright?” Viv said into the radio, grabbing it from a man’s hand. The officer sighed into the radio. “I’m afraid not. Is Isabella Madison there with you?” “No, she went back. Maxine’s alive, right?” He didn’t answer, and Viv gave the radio back. “But I just saw…” “Viv, your head’s bleeding,” Mara said, grabbing her arm, “We should get going.” “No, Mara! I saw Maxine in the forest, just a minute ago! And look, there’s her footprints,” she gestured at the ground, and Mara’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “Viv, there’s nothing here. You hit your head.” “Really?” “Look. Nothing,” Mara said, pointing her flashlight at the ground, where Viv could still see the footprints, clear as day. “Let’s go home.” Viv nodded numbly, following her friend up the hill. She was too tired, and probably had a head injury. Mara was right. She was probably seeing

things. She didn’t mention it again. She didn’t want to cause people to panic while the Madisons put their daughter in the ground.

Then the screaming started up again, Ella’s voice causing Viv to cover her ears. “Ella, please, for the love of god, just stop.” “You did this to me!” “I did nothing to you, Ella. Please stop.” “YES YOU DID.” “What did I do, Ella? What did I do?” “I trusted him. I trusted him,” Ella yelled, her voice a little bit quieter. “I want to go home. Why can’t I open the door? Why can’t I?” The realization came like a punch in the gut. “Ella, you’re a ghost.” “I’m alive! I’m right here!” The doorknob turned, Mara at the top of the stairs. “Why are you in the basement?” “Mara?” Ella screamed. “Mara, help! I’m stuck here! Mara!" Mara didn’t even glance in her direction. “Also, Ginger’s rolling around on your floor right now. She’s so funny, Viv.” “MARA! Why can’t you hear me?” Ella went to grab the railing, and her hand slipped through. She froze. “No, no, no. I’m alive. I’m right here. I survived. That wasn’t me in that ditch. That was

some other girl. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.” “You died, Ella. Just like me,” Moni said softly. “Do you know who did this?” “Hello, Earth to Viv?” Mara said. The door upstairs opened, and Viv heard the thud of boots. Suddenly Ella fell to her knees, screaming again, tears running down her cheeks.&nbsp; “Go,” Moni said. “They’ll put you in a mental hospital or something if you tell them the truth.” “Sorry, I spaced out,” she said to Mara, climbing the stairs. “I was curious about my Uncle Robert.” “You could have, like, googled his obituary or something.” “Who’s obituary?” Her father asked, setting the mail down on the counter. “I realized I actually know basically nothing about Uncle Robert.” Her father’s face turned dark. “He was a lot younger than me, Viv. We honestly didn’t talk much. When I did see him, though, he always kept writing in those journals of his, but they’re in some garbage dump now. Too many to keep. Still, the day he died was the saddest day of my life. Then your mom found out she was pregnant

“I-” Viv started, then stopped. “I’m so sorry, my sister was playing with the phone. I’m fine.” As Viv hung up, she realized the words weren’t hers. “How did you…” “I’ve been waiting for revenge longer than you’ve been alive. If you say the right words, killing him could even be self defense.” “No, I’m calling the police!” Viv said, dialing her phone again. Once again, Heather stopped her. Without even realizing it, Viv was down the stairs, then rummaging around below the porch. She pulled out a gun before she realized what she was doing, and tried to stop. Heather lost control of her for just a second, and Viv threw the weapon as far as she could, and ran. Heather, Mara, Monique, and Ella all chased after her. She turned a corner, and remembered her old shed, hiding in there while Heather looked for her. “Genevieve! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Heather yelled, walking down the path that led to the treeline. “We used to play hide and seek when you were a kid! There’s no point hiding, I already know where you are!”

Viv quietly stood up, easing the back door open. She slipped out as quietly as she could, and sprinted into the woods. She didn’t think anyone had heard her. The shed’s door slammed shut. “Getting warmer,” Heather sang. “Leaving the shed was a really stupid decision, Viv. You used to be smarter than that.” Viv really wished she could Google how to not get possessed by a ghost that probably knows you better than you know yourself and has homicidal tendencies, but she realized she’d left her phone on her kitchen counter. Suddenly, Mara came up behind Heather, and throat-punched her. Heather jumped back, clearly in pain. So ghosts could hurt other ghosts. “Take that, you- actually, I can’t think of an insult, but leave my friend alone!” Viv darted through the forest as fast as she could, just now realizing her feet were bare as she cut her left one on a rock on the forest floor. She ran into her house and grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter, dialing.

Chapter Two- Maxine Madison The last day of the week had finally ended. Viv finally dropped her bag on her floor, gratefully flopping onto her bed. She just wanted to sleep for the entire weekend. Then, of course, her phone rang. Which was strange, because no one really called her. If they wanted to talk to her, they’d text her.&nbsp; She picked up her phone, and answered it right as it was about to go to voicemail. “Genevieve Grant.” “Hi, Genevieve. It’s Bella.” “Oh, hi,” she said, hoping to get off the phone as soon as possible. It was weird, because Bella never really texted her. She might Snapchat her, occasionally, but she rarely actually texted her. “Do you need anything? Sorry, that was rude. I just wanna take a nap.” “Have you seen my sister?” Bella hesitated for a second. “Max. She’s a senior, blonde, blue eyes, average height. Last time we saw her, she was wearing jeans and a green shirt.” “No, I’m sorry. Is she okay?” “We can’t find her,” Bella said, her voice breaking.

“Last night, she was staying out late, and when she wasn’t there in the morning, we figured she just left early for school. I was actually mad at her. Can you believe that? If you hear anything about her, can you call me?” “Of course, of course,” Viv said. “I hope you find her.” “I hope so too,” Bella said, hanging up. Viv dropped her phone on her dresser, and laid back, staring at the ceiling. That was the second kid, and it had only been two days since Sara Jacobs. She picked up her phone, and called Mara. Her fingers were shaking so it took a minute. “Hey, do you happen to know where Maxine Madison is? She’s Bella’s sister.” “No, why?” “Have you seen her?” She repeated Bella’s description. “Bella hasn’t seen her since last night.” “Wait, actually? This is sounding a lot like Criminal Minds. And she looks just like Sara too. Viv, is there a serial killer?” “I think so.”

“Holy crap,” she hissed out in a breath. “She crashed her car?” “No, that’s the thing. People think she was murdered.” A wave of sadness hit Viv. She’d never met this girl, and if she had, she didn’t remember. Someone had just died, who could have been here this morning. They could have been friends. It could’ve easily been her. All these thoughts raced through her head in about a second, then the second bell rang and everyone walked into the cafeteria. The mood of most of the students had shifted for the rest of the day. In her English class, her teacher left the room crying when she heard, and only came back twenty minutes later. One of her friends, who was a junior, left school for the day. The school was already planning a fundraiser, to fund Sara Jacob’s funeral. The weirdest thing, though, was how quiet everyone was. For the first time, she didn’t hear kids joking around, and if they were talking, it was seriously, and respectfully. Her next two periods,

they didn’t even really do work. Everyone seemed so much more mature. The principal came into their class during seventh period, to share what had happened, though everyone had heard.&nbsp; “Do they know what happened?” She whispered to Mara as soon as they got to inquiry.&nbsp; “Nope, but it’s probably going to be on the news tonight,” they said, dropping their bag on the ground with a thunk. “Nothing ever happens in this town.” “There was that serial killer, like a decade ago,” Viv said, moving her chair forward. “Over a decade ago,” Mara corrected her. “More like two decades. It’s crazy that they never found him.” “Or her,” Viv said automatically. “He probably moved away, died, or went to prison. That’s what they say on all of the crime shows.” “Those shows aren’t real life, though, Viv,” Mara said. She was absentmindedly drawing a sword in her notebook, tucking a pink braid behind their ear. “Does this look good?”

Creative Commons License Imaginary Ghosts by Olivia Charron is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivat ives 4.0 International License.

“Yeah, it looks really good. Are you sure you’re not going to art school?” “We’re only freshmen, Viv. I’m sure of nothing.” Viv laughed quietly, like she shouldn’t be laughing on a day like this.&nbsp; “I know,” Mara said, understanding how she was feeling. “I never even met her, but I’ve probably seen her a million times.” “I never even said anything to her. I think I remember seeing her in the hallways, though. I think she bowls with Eric.” “That guy’s so annoying. How are you still friends?” “We’re not, really.” The rest of inquiry went by in silence, and then the bell rang, and everyone rushed out the door. Viv got on her bus, and listened to music on the ride home, since both her own stop and Mara’s, the houses more isolated. Finally the bus stopped, and Mara waved goodbye to Viv, tripping over the bus steps. Viv laughed, then stopped, when she remembered.

The bus stopped at her driveway, and she stepped off, walking up the hill on her driveway. She finally came over the hill, and, by some instinct, looked to the edge of the bare trees.&nbsp; She stared into the fearful eyes of Sara Jacobs, the blonde, college-bound girl who’s life had been all together, now nothing but smoke. She blinked, and Sara vanished. It was a weird day.

Viv skimmed the rest of the article, but it was mostly just information about the memorial, which Viv had gone to back in June, of course. Everyone had gone. She heard a truck pull into the driveway, so she stood, putting books back into their boxes and boxes back into their places. She folded the comforters into a neat pile, then started down the attic ladder as the door opened. She greeted her dad, as usual, and the day, for the most part, went as normally as it could from there.&nbsp; Viv woke in the early hours of the morning, her arm clock insistently beeping at her. She automatically hit snooze, despite being fully awake now. She sat up, yawning, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looked into the mirror across from her bed, and frowned. Her dark circles were more prominent than ever, and she stunk. She’d have to shower again today, so she might be late to school. In the mirror behind her, a silvery outline of her old imaginary friend, Heather, ducked out of view. Viv jumped up to look out the window for

her, but she was gone. They seemed so real.

“I’m fine,” Mara said, lifting up her head slowly. She froze. Next to her was a footprint she didn’t make.&nbsp; The last time it had rained was the night Maxine had gone missing. Any other foot prints would be washed away.&nbsp; “Bella!” Viv yelled, studying the footprint. Bella looked over the edge, her hair hanging in front of her face. “What size shoe does Maxine wear?” “A seven, I think. Why?” Viv compared her foot to the print. The print was a little smaller than hers, and she was a size eight. “I think I found her footprint.” “Wait, I’ll get the cops,” Bella said as Viv put a flag down. She stood, following the prints out of the mud. She could see a few more traces of muddy prints on the forest ground before they disappeared altogether. She steadied herself with a tree branch, shining her flashlight into the forest, looking for some sign of Maxine. She didn’t see anything, and Viv clicked her flashlight off with a defeated sigh. She could hear some members of the search party making their way

carefully down the hill. She turned her head to look at them, and thought she saw a flicker of silvery light from the corner of her eye. Her head whipped around, and she saw Maxine, standing there, bathed in silvery light from the moon. She was staring right into Viv’s eyes, her head tilted. Viv stepped towards her, unable to say anything. Then Maxine screamed, so loud that Viv jumped, turning around and running, faster than Viv ever could. She stared in shock and horror at the spot where Maxine had just been.&nbsp; “Guys, I just saw her!” Viv yelled back at the group, which was now made up of only a few people, who were all studying the mud. “Saw who?” Mara asked, standing up. “Viv, I don’t see any footprints.” “Didn’t you hear that scream? She just turned around and ran. It’s right near that stick.” “Viv, how hard did you hit your head? I didn’t hear anything.” They all stopped talking when the radio crackled.&nbsp; “We found Ms. Madison,” a man, the kind police

period,” Mara added. “They canceled school?” “Of course not. It's an American public school.” “She was so sweet. She was so good at clarinet, she helped me so much at sectionals. I was gonna help her with Geometry because I’m good with that next weekend and she is- was failing-” “I’m sorry, Mara. I’m sad I never met her.” “How many victims is that?” “Four, if it’s actually the same person.” “I’m gonna call my mom,” Mara said, stepping outside of the room.&nbsp; Genevieve checked in on a few people while Mara talked to her mother. Bella was understandably very upset. They’d become closer after what happened to her sister. Mara stepped back inside, their phone hanging from their hand. “My mom’s right nearby. She wants to pick me up.” “That’s fine, I can stay here alone. I’ve got Ginger.” “Lock your doors. Westmore isn’t that safe anymore.” Viv nodded as Mara grabbed her bag. She followed her down the stairs, and locked the door

behind her. Ginger tried to squeeze her way out of the door. She turned on the news. The headlines were all about Ella. They kept replaying the police interview she’d overheard, with the reminder to lock their doors and to be cautious.&nbsp; She didn’t know exactly when she decided to go down to the basement, but she ended up going through old boxes, looking for her mother’s old pepper spray. It was better to be safe than sorry, she’d decided. Eventually, she ended up going through old photos and drawings. She found one her mother used to keep taped to the fridge. It was a colored pencil drawing of her family, with her, her mother, and father. She used to be kind of good at drawing, so it looked decent, for a kid. Next to her, were four drawings of other kids, similar-looking to Viv. Each girl was neatly labeled with their name, and were drawn in gray. Donna, April, Dana, and Heather. She didn’t know exactly why she’d named her imaginary friends after the long-dead victims of a

Chapter Three- Sam Bennett “Ginger, please,” Viv said, as her dog tried to pull her towards the cornfield. She walked her dog a lot further on Saturdays, and today they’d gone a little ways out of town. Mara was next to her, chatting animatedly about her favorite show. Viv knew Mara didn’t mind if she tuned it out, they just liked to talk about it. “And then he died! I mean, I didn’t really mind it, but it made one of my favorite characters sad, so-” “Mara, you’re obsessed.” “You are too, just not with the same show.” “Point taken.” Suddenly Ginger started barking, almost dragging them onto a bigger road. Viv planted her feet, tightening her grip on the leash, as Ginger leaped wildly, struggling to get free.&nbsp; “Viv,” Mara whispered. “God, you’re so unobservant.” “What?” she said, looking up from Ginger to the police blockade around the dead cornfield. They were lifting a stretcher, covered in white cloth, into the back of an ambulance. Mara gasped,

quickly covering her hand with her mouth. Genevieve nearly dropped Ginger’s leash, and gained her composure just before she could take off. The police were dead serious, not seeming to notice Mara and Viv, who were in the tall shadows of the cornfield anyways. Only a minute later, a news van pulled up, just as the ambulance took off. It seemed to be one of the bigger news outlets, and they were firing questions at the police, who answered with a simple, “No comment.” “Do you think Westmore has a serial killer?” “No comment.” “Can you confirm that Samantha Bennett is, in fact, the latest victim?” “No comment.” “Samantha Bennett?” Viv whispered to Mara. “Do you know her?” “The only Bennett I know is the old lady on Union Street.” “Maybe that’s a relative?” An officer put his phone, which had previously been held to his ear, in his pocket and walked

“So? The killer wouldn’t kill again so soon anyways, based on what he’s done so far.” “Fine, but your dad better be making calzones.” “He’s at the store, I’ll text him and make sure he buys stuff for them.” “Deal,” Mara said, dramatically shaking her hand before she turned the hot water on. Viv stepped out of the door with the pie and a card, closing it quickly to prevent Ginger from following her. She made her way down her driveway, her cheeks quickly becoming pink from the cold. Her house was the last one on the street before the turn onto Union, luckily, so it only took a few minutes to get to the Bennett’s. Still, she walked at a quick pace, checking her surroundings. She almost started running back when she saw something moving in the bushes, but it was just a squirrel. The house was a light shade of blue, with white shutters, and a tiny white car was parked in the paved driveway. Genevieve hesitantly walked up a cobblestone pathway to the door. The wooden porch steps, painted a fading white, creaked under her feet. She adjusted the pie so she held it

with one hand, and knocked on the door. After a few seconds of shuffling, and the barking of a small dog, the door opened a crack. An elderly woman, with gray hair pulled into a ponytail, stood there, blocking a small dog from getting out. Her eyes were tinged red. “Mrs Bennett?” Viv said, quietly. “I’m sorry for your loss. I know it probably doesn’t help, but I made a pie. Apple pie.” She softened slightly. “That was Sammy’s favorite. Come in. You’re John’s daughter, aren’t you?” “Yeah.” “I saw you at dear Aria’s funeral. She was such an angel. I hope she’ll be there for my baby.” Viv nodded, uncomfortably stepping inside. Mrs Bennett’s kitchen table already had another dish on it, some sort of casserole. She set the pie down on the checkered tablecloth. “Tara and Dennis are at the coroner’s, and my son in laws are picking their parents up from the airport. I’m glad for a bit of company.” She assumed that Tara and Dennis were Samantha’s parents. “I’m sorry, Mrs Bennett, but I

be long and got worried.” “I wasn’t, really. It’s just with everything going on…” “I’d prefer if you stayed home, Viv. I could have driven you.” “I will,” Viv said. “Hopefully there won’t be a next time. What happened to your shirt?” A small piece of black fabric was missing from his short sleeved shirt. “Ginger got it in the laundry basket yesterday.” They pulled into the driveway, and Viv laughed at Mara, who stood on the porch with her arms crossed. She got out of her father’s black truck, and walked inside, petting Ginger. She walked out to the truck to grab the groceries, but her father waved her off. “I’ll get them, Viv.” She nodded and went upstairs with Mara and Ginger. The rest of the day was, surprisingly, uneventful.

Chapter Four- Ella Stevenson “We should go to the doctors if you’re seeing things, bestie,” Mara argued, concernedly googling the symptoms of a head injury. “That’s the second time.” “It felt real, though.” “Which is exactly why we should go to the doctors. You fell down that hill, you’re gonna, like, die or something if we don’t get it checked out.” “It’s fine, Mara. The bruise is fading and I’ve talked to my dad. Besides, the hallucinations, or whatever they are, have gone away. It’s been two days.” “You didn’t tell me about this before? What if you were dying and no one knew?” “Mara, relax. It’s probably just stress.” “Ok, but if you die, no one can blame it on me. And I get your book collection.” “Deal.” A notification popped up on Genevieve’s phone, and she went to check it, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Mara. It’s happened again. Ella Stevenson.” “Oh my god. I have band class with Ella. Third

stop it wouldn’t- Upstairs, the door opened, and the sound of keys clattering onto the counter interrupted the voice. It quieted enough so that Viv could desperately run up the stairs, slamming the door behind her. The door opened again, her father coming back inside, holding the mail. He grinned, “Almost forgot this.” Viv’s heart had stopped pounding enough that she could fake a laugh, and go up to her room.&nbsp; The basement went on her list of things to avoid that day.

Chapter Five- Donna, Dana, and April Genevieve had taken to hanging out in her tiny attic, as far away from the basement as possible. She hadn’t believed in ghosts before, but she was pretty sure her house was haunted, or at least the basement. It was kind of comfortable. She’d gotten into a tote of old comforters, and laid on the floor, completely surrounded by them. She was flipping through her father’s old yearbook. Most of the names had little annotations next to them, probably so he could remember what they were like, years later. She flipped to the next page, which had a hole in it. Tyler Brown’s picture was missing, neatly cut out. She flipped the page, just to see that it was Dana Campbell’s picture, on the other side. That made sense. He’d probably used it for some form of a memorial. She flipped through the book, and found Donna Hughes and April Ward’s pictures missing as well. The odd one out was Heather Montague, who’s picture had red hearts drawn around the picture, and the word favorite written below it, in different, neater handwriting. He probably

when I stand in the middle of the road.” “I-” “I think I’m in shock. I literally don’t know why else I would be this calm right now. I’m Monique Dalton. I’m from Mount Winter. It’s a few towns over.” “I’m sorry- what?” “I was walking out of the movie theater last night, and some guy grabbed me and put me in his truck. I was working late because I had to clean up a theater by myself-” she wrinkled her nose- “because some idiot spilled his popcorn literally everywhere and Jimmy was on vacation in the Bahamas.” “Are- are you a ghost?” “Did I literally just say that I’m not even sure if I’m actually dead? Come on, I’ll show you.” Monique brushed past her, like a cold wind. Viv silently followed, Ginger now calm beside her. Monique followed a set of light footprints, which Viv walked to the side of. She studied Monique as they walked. She was blonde, with wavy hair hanging down her back. She had a hooked nose, was tall, and

had blue eyes. She looked like a shade of a real person, emitting silver light. She had to be hallucinating. Ghosts weren’t real, and, even if they were, it was broad daylight. Didn’t that go against what everyone said about only seeing them at night? “Right here,” Monique said, fidgeting. “That’s where he left me.” “You aren’t real, are you? I’m dreaming,” Viv said, looking at her hands, which looked completely normal, contrary to what she’d heard about your hands looking weird in dreams. Viv pushed aside the long grasses, and screamed at what she saw. A girl had been dumped on the grasses, bruises covering her neck, one shoe missing. Her eyes were open, with no sign of life. Viv grabbed her wrist, feeling for some sort of pulse. She found none. She threw up to the side of the scene. “Oh my god.” “So I am dead.” “I think I’m going to faint.” “Stop that, seriously. You need to call the police or something.”

“Yes.” “All she did while I was there was scream, dude. Are you sure you want to go down there?” “I can handle her-” Viv grabbed her bag, waved to the librarian, and left. “-and you can help me look. I’m calling Mara now, she’ll meet me there.” As she dialed Mara’s number, she came into view, waving to Viv, a shopping bag under her arm. “Were you leaving me?” “No,” Viv yelled back. “I was about to call you and tell you to catch up. We’re going to my house.” Viv slung her bag over her shoulders, climbing onto her rarely-used bike. Mara ran over, climbing on behind her. She refused to learn how to ride a bike, for reasons Viv still couldn’t figure out. She took off, pedaling down the street. Moni jogged next to her, complaining. A little while later, they got to Viv’s driveway and hopped off the bike. She refused to ride it up the hill with Mara sitting behind her. They walked up the hill, drinking from the juice boxes Viv had made Mara buy. “Did you seriously get Fruit Punch?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mara asked, slipping the plastic wrapped for the straw into her pocket. “Strawberry Kiwi is obviously better. I texted you that,” Viv said, clambering up the steps to her porch, and unlocking the door. She opened it, Ginger barking at her. She dumped the box on the counter, and reached down to pet her, absentmindedly.&nbsp; “Can you take her out, Mara?” “I literally just got you Capri Sun.” “With my money. And I’m letting you keep the change.” “Letting me? You couldn’t get it back if you- you know what, nevermind. I still had to walk there.” “Please.” “Fine. Only because I like Ginger more than you and she deserves to have me walk her.” “Thanks, Mars. How kind of you.” As soon as the door shut, Viv went to the basement, Moni following her. “So what are we looking for, Genevieve?” “Look for any boxes labeled ‘Robert Grant.’ Dad probably put them towards the back, because he died, like, ten months before I was born.”

serial killing, but the four of them were there, surrounded by rainbows and flowers. She dropped her paper when she realized how similar they looked to Sara, Maxine, Samantha, and Ella. It slid under the shelves and behind them, where a bunch of old boxes were crammed together. It was pretty much stuff they had no use for, like baby clothes that they hadn’t given away yet or things inherited from Viv’s grandparents. She stepped over an old hose left in the way, and an old painted wooden snowman, hastily left on the concrete floor from last Christmas, though they had never been particularly religious. She jumped back from the shelf when she thought she saw a rat, but it was only an old toy that her mother used to leave there to scare her father. A cardboard box was blocking the way, so she picked it up to move it. She didn’t recognize it. She picked up a second box, to move them out of the way, and tripped over an old jump rope. The second box fell to the floor with a loud thump, and the first box tipped to the side, spilling open.

A bunch of women’s left shoes fell out, in varying states of cleanliness. One was a nice, expensive black high heeled shoe, and another was a muddy lilac flip flop. One was a white converse high top. The other was a white sneaker also, but much cleaner than the converse, and a different style. A newer doc marten boot lay next to them, with purple laces. Three more were laying in the box: a clog, brand-new blue sneakers, and a rainboot, caked in mud, similarly to the clog. She picked up the rainboot. The mud looked like it had just dried, which was odd, since no one had been in the basement in ages.&nbsp; A chill ran up her neck, making her shiver. The lightbulb flickered, the string swinging in the air. Upstairs, Ginger started barking. “Why are you doing this?” said a quiet voice behind her. “Why did you do this to me?” The light went out. A voice she realized was Ella’s kept repeating the two senses over and over, like a mantra. The voice got louder and louder, and Viv curled up into a ball, trying to block the voice out. It wouldn’t stop it wouldn’t stop it wouldn’t

“What do I tell them? Hi, sir, this ghost told me where her-” “Your dog found me, okay? It’s kind of true.” “Who did this?” “Some guy with brown hair and eyes. He’s, like, middle aged and kind of short. He had glasses, I think. I didn’t really get a good look at him. He grabbed me, and I couldn’t breathe, and I think I passed out until I ended up here. He drives a black truck.” “That’s it?” “I was focusing on getting out of there- wait, what’s your name?” “Genevieve Grant. I was going for a run when…” “Ok, Geneveieve, I wasn’t exactly paying close attention to who was attacking me. It was more like, ‘I’m going to kill Jimmy for not being here,’ and ‘Repeatedly hitting this guy isn’t doing anything.’” Genevieve pulled out her phone, while Monique kept rambling about how she’d told Jimmy that she couldn’t work alone and get tutored in chem. Shakily, she dialed the three numbers. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I found, um…well, I was running with my dog and-” “Spit it out!” Monique whispered. “I found this girl’s body. I’m at, um, a meadow at the edge of Westmore. Like, kinda deep into it because my dog was dragging me, and I think I contaminated the crime scene because I puked and could you please hurry because this is really creeping me out-” “Could you be more specific as to your location?” “Right, I know I’m on Everett Hill’s land, but he couldn’t have anything to do with this because, frankly, he’s really old and can’t even get his own groceries without help from his daughter. Please hurry.” “Police are on their way. Please remain calm. What is your name and number?” “Genevieve Grant, and, 820-364-2080, can you please get here?” “Ma’am, police are on the way.” “Thanks, I’m just going to hang up, I guess,” she said, and did, without waiting for a reply. “None of you are fake, are you?” “What?” Monique asked.

over to the press. “Our working theory is, yes, that Westmore has a serial killer. With that, we urge people to be extra cautious, lock their doors, and to not go out alone. Ms. Bennett is our latest victim, but we request that everyone give the families of the victims privacy and time to mourn. If you’d like to help, you can donate money at Westmore Creek High School this Friday, or at Westmore Town Hall to help families cover their expenses.” “Do you have any idea who this killer is?” The officer walked off, not bothering to say anything. By his face, it was clear that they had no idea. He stepped into his car and drove off, leaving another car there, where people were seemingly collecting evidence. “We should head back,” Genevieve whispered, and turned back around, having to tug Mara by the&nbsp;white sleeve of their sweatshirt. Viv grabbed her oven mitts, and handed them to Mara, who pulled the pie out of the oven. Mara

had decided to spend the night, since it was their mother’s week, and she was working late, despite the fact that it was a weekend. Normally Mara would just stay home, but they were being extra cautious. “Are you sure you wanna give this to Mrs. Bennett? It looks really good.” Mara said, inhaling the scent. “That’s the point,” Viv said, gesturing for them to set the pie down. “Hands off. You’re not eating that.” Mara pouted, but set it down. “What’s with the tradition of giving people food, anyway?” “I don’t know. It’s what my mother would do. Besides, food makes everything better.” “If my granddaughter died, I wouldn’t be hungry,” Mara complained, setting the pie down.&nbsp; “She’s just around the corner, so can you stay here and do the dishes?” Viv asked, grabbing her sweater off of the back of the chair.&nbsp; “The sun’s setting soon,” Mara pointed out. “You shouldn’t go out alone. You look an awful lot like that picture of Samantha Bennett.”

“Wait, what’s Bella’s number? My uncle does search and rescue. His dog found some lost hikers once or something. I could see if we could do a search party.” “She could still be alive, Mara.” “If she is, then she won’t be for much longer, if she’s lost in the woods. And with what happened to Sara…” “I’ll send you her number.” The next day, a search party had been organized. There wasn’t a single person in the town that hadn’t heard of what had happened, and a good portion of them turned up. The day started out good. Though they weren’t supposed to, both Viv and Mara went, decked out in jackets and gloves. It was November, after all. All of the leaves were off of the trees, but after the recent rain, they didn’t crunch under their feet. Viv thought it would ruin the scent, but Mara’s uncle told her it actually made it easier to follow. Bella let him smell a sweater Maxine had worn the day before, and he tracked for hours.

The search party split up into about ten people, spreading out through the area. They stood about arms length apart, combing through the forest for any sign of Maxine. People were calling her name all throughout the forest, the sound echoing, interrupting the normally still air. Genevieve couldn’t help but shiver at the thought that they could be calling to someone who would never answer. A few hours later, around three in the afternoon, someone blew their whistle. “It’s nothing much,” said an older lady, as people looked over. “Just a bit of black fabric, but it looks new.” They put a little orange flag down, and the rest of the group kept going. It was starting to get dark, and some people started to talk about leaving. Viv was tired, and it didn’t help that she couldn’t see well. She started walking down a hill, but her foot got caught in a branch, and she tripped, rolling down it, over tree roots and weeds. She rolled to a stop, caked in mud.&nbsp; “Viv!” Mara called down the hill. “Are you alright?”

couldn’t use it, because it was written on. Maybe they’d dated in high school? Her father had graduated in 1999, and three years later, he had met her mother. That was only around a year after Heather Montague died. The serial killings had taken place exactly twenty years ago. People figured it must have been someone from out of town, or maybe David Calder, who’d gone to prison for armed robbery around half a year after the killings stopped. The police had never solved it, but it wasn’t like they were the FBI or incredibly good at their jobs, especially back then. They’d had an anniversary back in June, the anniversary of the first death.&nbsp; Genevieve didn’t actually know that much about what had happened, so she ended up googling it.

Grim Twenty-Year Anniversary of Westmore Creek Serial Killing Twenty years ago, three hikers by the names of Josh, Hunter, and Laura Davidson were enjoying a peaceful day in late June when they came across a terrifying sight: the body of twenty-year old Heather Montague. Heather had gone missing two weeks ago, last seen walking home from soccer practice. The town had been in a panic when she had vanished off of the side of the road. After months, police still hadn’t found the killer.&nbsp; People had finally begun to feel safe until the killer struck again; this time in September, resulting in the death of 18-year-old April Ward, who had just started studying art at the local college. Two months later, Donna Hughes was killed, this time, set out publicly on a bench at the local college campus. The shoe killer struck one more time in January 2002, killing 21-year-old Dana Campbell, before vanishing. All leads and trails went cold, and despite the police’s best efforts, they couldn’t find the killer. To this day, the serial case remains unsolved.

Chapter Six- Monique Dalton A minute later, Viv’s phone rang. She picked up. “Hey, Mars.” “School’s canceled.” “Finally.” “No, not because of the murders. There’s icy roads. It rained all last night, remember? It’s frozen now.” “Wanna come over?” “No, sorry. I’m going back to sleep and then I’ve gotta practice my clarinet. We played this part yesterday, and it’s not as easy as I thought it would be.” “Bummer. I’m gonna go walk the Ginger.” “Bye. Stay safe.” “Always do,” she said, hanging up. She got out of bed, grabbing her hoodie off the floor. It was damp. She frowned, dropping it in the laundry hamper and grabbing a different one. She must’ve taken Ginger out at some point last night. Ginger looked up, jumping off of the bed, her tail wagging. Viv changed, threw her hair into a ponytail, and went downstairs. She grabbed a croissant from the box her father had gotten

yesterday, clipped Ginger’s leash on, and left. She started jogging, Ginger keeping up with her. She still ran occasionally, though she’d quit after her mother’s death. She was more out of shape than usual, which meant Ginger could keep up with her. It felt almost euphoric to run again, like she was gaining a part of herself back, after her mother’s death had taken it away. Ginger dragged her to a stop at a meadow closer to the edge of town, though Viv lived pretty close to that anyway. She pointed her nose directly into the dead field, with its long grasses, and started barking. She was a decently big dog, but usually well-mannered, so Viv didn’t expect her to take off into the field. She regained her footing a few steps into the grass, holding the leash firmly. Ginger jumped, straining to go further, but Viv didn’t budge. The grass reached her waist, brushing against her elbows. A whisper of grass moving behind her sent a chill up her neck, and she whipped around, staring into the silvery, faded face of a blonde girl about her age. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” Viv froze, gaping. “You can see me, can’t you? No one else has seen me, even

do have to get home soon. My friend said they were going to call the police if I’m gone too long.” She seemed not to have heard her, standing by the windows. “I used to babysit your uncle, you know. Your father was too busy with all those sports, and his girlfriend, back then. Such a shame what happened to her.” “I never met my uncle, actually. He died a couple months before I was born.” “Such a shame. He was a strange child. A wonderful child, of course, but so strange. He used to pretend there was a man in my house, and would talk to the air. He believed the man to be my husband. Such an imagination.” “I used to have imaginary friends like that. April, Donna, Dana, and Heather. My mom said it was because I heard those names so much, after what happened in the early 2000s.” “Life is strange,” Mrs Bennet said. Suddenly her phone started buzzing in her hand. She looked at the name and sighed, answering. She said a few words before hanging up. “Sorry, dear. I’m wanted with my sister Nancy. You’re welcome

anytime.” Viv nodded, thanked her, and left, tripping on the porch steps. She froze when she looked back up. A silvery shade of Samantha Bennett was standing in front of her, staring directly into her eyes. “Samantha? You’re-” “Don’t trust him.” “Trust who?” A truck turned onto Union, and Samantha glanced that way, her demeanor changing. “Run,” she yelled, and took off, sprinting away and jumping over a fence.&nbsp; “From what?” Viv desperately asked the empty air. She blinked, but there was still nothing there, so, afraid of appearing crazy, she kept walking. A truck pulled up beside her, the window rolled down. “Hi, Viv. Want a ride?” Her dad sat in the seat, the backseat filled with groceries. She hoped he’d bought Capri Sun, and nodded, climbing into the passenger seat. “I brought Mrs Bennett an apple pie.” “I know. Mara called. She didn’t think you would

Chapter Eight- Heather Montague “Heather?” Viv screamed in disbelief, not caring that her father might be downstairs. Heather stood in front of her, her arms furiously crossed. She couldn’t deal with this right now. Her breath was coming in and out too fast, her heart beating out of her chest. She couldn’t breathe- Mara touched her arm. “Breathe, Viv. You're not the one that just had someone who’s basically your uncle stab you with a kitchen knife.” “You’re not his type. Why did he kill you?” Heather asked, almost curiously.&nbsp; “I saw him holding Monique’s shoe. I realized that I should probably run a few seconds too late.” “What was he doing?” “Walking through the kitchen.” “So you were a victim of opportunity. He only killed you because you knew. That’s why he didn’t strangle you.” Moni and Ella walked through the door, and Monique spoke. “I heard you scream- woah, ok. You’re dead now, and you’re here? What’s going on?” Viv pulled up a photo of her father, and held it up to Moni’s face. “Is this him?”

“Oh my god it’s him. Wait, why is he in a photo with you?” “He’s my dad.” “Oh my god. Well, that’s messed up. Are you gonna call the cops? I honestly don’t know if I would right away because that’s my dad, you know? But he-” “Shut up.” Heather said, furiously stepping towards Viv. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to follow your father out of the door he’s leaving through. You’re going to let me take control of you, because otherwise it’s going to be harder now that you know. You’re going to take the pistol from under the porch and you’re going to let me kill him.” “Hold on, hold on,” Mara said, her hands up. “I don’t-” “Call the police. My dad’s a cop,” Ella said quietly, still standing behind Monique. Viv nodded, picking up her phone. She dialed 911, and waited until the operator picked the phone up. Heather grabbed her wrist. When she tried to speak, nothing came out for a moment. “911, what’s your emergency?”

Prologue Genevieve Evangeline Grant stared into the eyes of her mother, hoping for some flicker of life. She was still shocked, even though the accident had been six days, twelve hours, and fifty-four minutes ago. The shock had slowly started to fade into numbness, which Viv wasn’t sure she was grateful for. Her father still stood next to her, one sweaty palm on her shoulder, the other hanging stiffly by his side. He wore his best suit -his only suit, the same one he’d worn to his wedding- and Genevieve wore the black dress her mother had given her for a dance a couple of years ago. She held her hands in front of her, clasped together, to try to stop them from shaking. It wasn’t working.

     Her mother had died the same way she’d lived: caring for her daughter. Viv had stayed late during cross country practice, and it was getting dark. The rain was coming down so hard that standing

outside for even just a minute soaked her clothes. So she pulled out her phone, and called her mom.&nbsp; She only lived about ten minutes from the school, if you were driving carefully. After ten minutes, she figured that her mother had just taken a while to leave the house. After twenty minutes, she wondered if maybe she’d stopped at the store first, because they needed milk. After thirty minutes, she called her mom. After it went to voicemail ten times, she dialed her father’s number with shaking hands. He was still at work, but he left early to pick her up. On the way home, after almost an hour, Genevieve learned that her mother would never answer her calls again. Her silver car was wrapped around a tree, ambulances and police cars scattered around it. Her father pulled out his phone and saw the six missed calls. From that day on, Genevieve rode the bus.

“911-” “It’s my father, my father’s the shoe killer. I think he just killed my best friend. His name’s John Grant and you need to hurry and find him-” “Calm down, ma’am. Can you give me your name?” “Genevieve Grant. He’s probably going to come back any minute and-” Heather would make her kill him. “What is your address, Genevieve?” Genevieve quietly recited her address, focusing on just the numbers. “And my friend’s name is Mara Andrews.” “Police are on their way.” “Thank you,” Genevieve said, hanging up. She probably should’ve stayed on the line, but she really didn’t want to try to have a conversation right now. She ran back outside.&nbsp; Standing in front of her was Heather. Viv screamed, trying to sidestep Heather, who grabbed her arm. In seconds, she had no control over herself. Heather guided her over to a random spot in the grass, where the gun was lying. Through Viv, Heather picked it up without

hesitation, and walked down her driveway. With each step Viv took on the pavement, she left one bloody footprint from the cut on the bottom of her foot. She walked confidently, assuredly. Heather had no hesitation with what she was about to do, no second thoughts. “Hopefully, you won’t go to prison.” Heather said, in a cold, clear voice. “I do like you, Genevieve. Just tell the police you went looking for Mara, got into a fight with your father, and shot him in self-defense.” Viv couldn’t respond. She opened her mouth and no words came out. Heather didn’t seem to notice. So Heather wasn’t in complete control, then. Maybe she could break free. She tried to move her pinky, and found that she could, with a bit of difficulty. Each slow, assured step was agonizing. Viv couldn’t stop walking, or do anything but walk. She wondered how far she would have to keep walking when her driveway was still in sight. Then both she and Heather saw her father’s car speed past them, back towards their driveway.

Heather forced her to chase him up her dusty, rocky driveway. Her foot was numb, and likely infected. Waiting in the driveway were two police cars. She had stopped running off to the side of her father’s car, the police cars on her left. Her father got out slowly, his hands held up. The words were out of Viv’s mouth before she could control them. “Hi, John. Do you remember what you did to me?” The cadence was entirely different, exactly like Heather’s. Her arm pointed the gun right at him. He blinked, staring at Viv. “It’s Heather. Remember how I always said I would come for you?” He froze, then pulled a gun out of his truck faster than lightning, pointing it directly at Viv. Viv let out a quick yelp before Heather shut her up. Otherwise, she didn’t move or even flinch. A police officer looked at her quizzically. Some were aiming at her, some at her father. One leaned into his radio, muttering something. “That’s not possible…” Viv’s father said, his hands shaking.

“John, you have no idea what’s possible. Remember Robert?” “He’s dead.” “So am I. But your sweet little Genevive isn’t, is she?” Viv spoke, letting her words out in a rush through clenched teeth. “I’m not- not in control.” “Viv?” Her father asked, hesitating for just a second. Heather reached to pull the trigger, and Genevieve focused all her energy, all of her silly little control on her feet. She spun to the left as the gun fired. Heather let go of her in shock, and Viv cried out in relief. They were all aiming at her. They had picked up a bleeding officer. She saw the growing spot of red on his stomach, heard the frantic yelling of the officers. The bullet had pinged off of her father’s car, and hit an officer. Her father had started running towards the forest, and a lone officer chased him. Another two cars were pulling into her driveway. Another officer started running towards her father. Viv dropped the gun in shock and put her hands up. “She made me- I didn’t do it. It was Heather,

Chapter One- Sara Jacobs It had been two months since the funeral. Genevieve’s cheek rested on the cool glass of the bus window, occasionally bumping her head when the bus turned. Her friend, Mara Andrews, sat next to her, on her phone. Viv’s head had hit the wall again when Mara elbowed her. “Genevieve.” “Hey, don’t elbow me!” “Look, there’s cops.” They watched as two cops drove by, lights on, sirens blaring. “I wonder what happened,” Mara said.&nbsp; “It’s probably nothing,” Viv said, shrugging, though after what had happened with her mother, she worried every time she even thought she heard a siren. She kept imagining someone running through her neighborhood with a knife, killing everyone she knew, or burning her house down and leaving her with nothing. After a little while, the bus stopped, and the

two friends got off, parting for their different classes. Mara was lucky; her class was right near the door, in the gym. Viv’s was on the opposite end of the building. They waved goodbye to Viv, pushing open the gym doors. Viv yawned, putting her arm through the other strap on her backpack. Sometimes she hated school, purely because of how early it started.&nbsp;

Viv's phone lit up with a text from her dad as lunch was beginning. She quickly texted him back, her fingers dancing over the screen. She nearly walked into Mara, who seemed to be in a different mood than usual. “Hi, how’s your day?” “You didn’t hear?” They asked, and Viv shook her head dumbly. “Sara Jacobs died today. She is- was a junior. Mark said someone found her on the side of the highway.”

please, you have to believe me…” Everything that happened after that was a blur. She told the police everything: her imaginary friends, the ghosts, the shoes, the pictures. Ella and Monique and Mara and Heather and… she wasn’t sure how long she talked. Next thing she knew, she was pleading insanity for her unlawful possession of a weapon and the murder of a police officer. She’d ended up in a mental hospital somewhere along the way. Next thing she knew, she was playing Uno with a girl she barely knew who smelled like smoke. Well, and Mara. She’d propped her cards up without looking and Mara would tell her which one to put down.&nbsp; Monique and Ella still visited. Heather’s visits would give her nightmares for weeks. The others stayed away, but Mara; she was always with Viv. “So, a ghost possessed you and made you kill a police officer?” “Yeah. Everyone thinks it’s a lie anyways though and tells me that I’m lucky to be here. Though technically, she tried to make me kill my father and failed.” "How?"

Viv blinked, setting down a skip card. Mara started yelling at her. “I dunno, she, like, grabbed my arm.” The girl leaned forwards, her sleeve rolling up slightly to reveal a strange, runic tattoo that Viv hadn’t seen before. It almost looked like it was moving. She said in a hushed tone, “There’s a way to prevent that, you know.” They were called for lunch and the girl stood, her sleeve falling back down. “See you tomorrow.” “See you,” Viv said confusedly as the girl walked out the door. Then the fire alarm went off, and Viv realized the smell of smoke wasn’t from the girl. It was because the building was on fire.&nbsp; She felt a hand on her arm. She stared at the golden shade of a man. “Come with me.” There was no reason not to.

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