Haunting

Chapter one: Elizabeth

Summary: You grew up on them...whether to scare you or intrigue you. Ghost stories, chilling and mysterious. Some people don't believe in them..and those are the people that come to find out, first hand...That they're true. -Not a Mary-Sue, and is really interesting. PLZ read.-

A/N: This is an odd idea in and of itself, and I realize this. But its October, and its getting near to Halloween...and I just got this idea. I hope you all will like it...after all, this is a challenging thing to write if I still want it to be legit. -grin- I hope I manage it all right.

BTW: There is no romance in this. At least not between any female and any newsie. Just to set that straight. This isn't a Mary-Sue.

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A ghost?

Why a ghost you say?

Well...

Why not?

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My name is Elizabeth Miller, a true southerner, born and raised in Rincon, Georgia. If you don't know where that is, it's a suburb of Savannah, close to the Atlantic ocean. But im not here to tell you where I grew up, im here to tell you a story. A story that has shocked many, and cultivated much grief in the past year of my life. In a way...All the people that call me a fool, call me crazy... Are just different versions of me, after the fact.

You see, I never believed in the stories my mother told me...I called them fairy tales. Childish stories. What did she think I was? Five? I didn't believe in elves, I didn't believe in fairies. And I sure as heck didn't believe in what my mother called 'metaphysical beings of chance and fate.'

She meant ghosts.

What good was a ghost anyway? Mother used to tell me stories of ghosts saving people, helping them out as they tried to find ways to 'help the being along a path of self discovery.' That was another thing she used to say a lot. That meant the ghost helped the person they were haunting until that person found out what was binding them to that particular place.

But why, why would you do that? Why help a ghost? Surely they were bind to that place for a reason, right? So why set them free from whatever tormented them? Surely they wouldn't have been sealed there just so someone could come along years later and let them go?

That was totally pointless.

And so is the subject of ghosts. Because I specifically remember telling you I don't believe in them-

"Thats a horrible thing to say!"

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeth sat back on her heels, tapping the pen against the side of her mouth thoughtfully. "Well it's the truth, isn't it?" Her voice held a slight southern twang, not as thick as her parents, thats for sure.

"Yes. But dats not da point heah! Dat was cruel, Liz."

She could almost hear the pout in the voice, and she groaned, running a hand through her long brown hair. "Your accent gets thicker when you're angry, didya know that?"

"Of course I did. And stop changin' da subject!"

Laughing at the disembodied voice floating through her room, Elizabeth pushed herself to her knees, gathering the hardback journal and her assortment of colored pens, dumping them on her bed before moving to the window and flinging it wide.

It was a nice night, with a spattering of stars in an inky black sky. If she looked over to the right, she could see Manhattan, in all its glory. If thats what you wanted to call it. The word that came to her own mind, however, was death trap.

Big cities like Manhattan were just death traps, luring unsuspecting people into horrible fates of poverty, crime, and or death. Why anyone would take pleasure in living in a city boggled her mind, and she had absolutely refused to take a step out of Georgia, until she had been promised at least a few miles in between her and the nearest death trap.

Sure, her parents complained all the time, because it was that much father to work every morning, but she didn't care. They would thank her for it one day, when their eyes cleared and they saw the error of their ways. She was certain.

"Thinkin' bout me?"

"You wish." She grinned to herself, placing her hands on the window sill, pushing her small frame through, twisting so her back was to the ground a story below. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of the edge of the roof, pulling herself up easily.

"One day you're gonna fall, and im gonna laugh." This time, all traces of pout and anger was gone, leaving nothing behind but amusement, and a slight tone of tease.

"Doubtful." She retorted, scrambling a little as she finally got a handhold and started to crawl across the roof, reaching the center and perching herself up on the peak, back up against the brick fireplace.

This was her sanctuary; her special place where no one could interrupt her, no one could tell her what to do. No one could touch her, hurt her. Up here, on the top of the world, she was free.

Breathing in deeply, Elizabeth closed her eyes, hands spreading to the sides and fingertips spread as a cold breeze rushed past, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. She didn't have to think about school, she didn't have to think about her chores, she didn't have to think at all.

She preferred it that way. Life shouldn't be thought through. It should just be. Or at least, that is how she saw life now. A few years ago it was plan this, or organize that. She had even started to scare herself.

But that had been before...

Cracking one eye open, her lips quirked into a small smile. "You're like a little puppy. Following me all around like this."

"Ya know, I resent dat."

"Thought you might."

Something cold poked her cheek, but she was used to it by now and didn't even flinch. She merely rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. "Did I mention childish?"

"Im gonna act like I have recently gone deaf, and refuse to comment."

"Awwwww." Laughing now, Elizabeth curled her arms around her stomach. "But its fun!"

There was a small moment of silence.

"Do you want me ta push ya ovah the edge of the roof?"

"Would you?" She asked, serious now. It was something she had researched. Mood swings, come to find out, were rather common in ghosts. Even if they were calm tempered most of the time! "Would you push me over the roof?"

Silence. She knew there would be. Just as she knew she had been alone just a second before. But now a young man sat to her right, legs crossed, eyes the color of mocha staring straight at her.

"What kind of question is dat?" He asked softly.

Elizabeth caught the hurt in his voice, and reached forward, brushing a strand of mahogany hair from his face. It had startled her that she could touch him, but only at first. There were many layers to a ghost, and one of them was physical.

But it was rare for him to use so much energy to appear flesh and blood to her.

"A stupid one. Im sorry, Race."

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First chapter done! Heeee. I thought it was pretty good. But maybe im just kidding myself. You guys tell me.

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