"This island is creeping me out already." I mumbled as we arrived on Hemlock Harbor.
There were creepy, wooden buildings and mist covering the floor like a blanket. We spoke to a guy and received some salt - apparently it keeps away evil spirits - and headed over to a cemetery.
I didn't feel very comfortable around cemeteries, even before… certain events happened. They were always surrounded by an ominous aura. The night sky was dawning upon us, and something walked out of the cemetery…
… it was a tour guide. He offered us late-night tours (you couldn't pay me to go on one of those) and handed us a pamphlet.
However, the Magistrate caught him, and he raced off before he could get into trouble. The Magistrate sighed.
"There was a time when Hemlock Harbor was a peaceful village," he told us. "Before this flock of ghost-hunting imbeciles turned it into a cheap tourist destination." He shook his head. "If you have no business in these words, I suggest you find lodging for the night."
Though it's your fault the ghost hunters are here, I thought, as Fierce Fox and I turned around.
"Talk to that guy," I pointed ahead to a guy standing near the cemetery gates. "He's
looking for his uncle's grave. Credit me now, it took me forever to memorize this - it's Lot C, Plot 84."
And so Fierce Fox spoke to the mopey nephew. In return, he handed her a room key for a supposedly haunted hotel, and she returned to me.
"Time for a hotel sleep," I said.
We headed over to the 'haunted' hotel where the room key fit. It was an old-fashioned, cob-webbed filled hotel, with fancy wallpaper and rustic bookshelves. Just the kind of place I'd give five stars.
"I'm so glad a room became available to you," the owner of the hotel (who looked like Edna Mode) told us. "Well, I'm off to meet my husband. We need to make preparations… for the night."
She left. I rolled my eyes.
"What is it?" Fierce Fox asked.
"They're gonna try and scare us," I explained.
"Why?" Fierce Fox asked, raising her brow.
"Money," I groaned. "Come on, let's go into our room."
We climbed up the creaky stairs and entered our little room. The good news was - oh wait, there was no good news. Well, apart from the fact that the room had a bed. Aside from that, it was trash.
There was a creepy portrait, ancient curtains, cobwebs, a rotting chair and a cupboard. Oh, and the worst part of all? There was only one bed.
I shivered. "Well… it looks like we have to… um, share the bed."
Of course I'd shared beds before. When I was little and slept with my parents. But I hadn't actually been to a sleepover before (people never invited me), and besides, I'd never shared a bed with another person who wasn't my parents. I guess today was a bit of a change.
Fierce Fox sighed. "Whatever. Let's just hit the hay."
So we climbed into bed, opposing each other, as the lights began to dim. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments.
"So…" I decided to start up a conversation. "About your dad…"
"What's there to say about him?" Fierce Fox growled. "He thinks we're all gonna die."
"... where are you from?" I asked her.
"Mocktropica," she got out.
"... people live there?" I asked.
She glowered at me.
"Sorry," I sweat beaded. "That's cool. What was it like growing up there?"
Fierce Fox glowered. "Not fun."
Her face had creased.
"Sorry," I apologised again. "Listen… at least you're not there anymore, right?"
"We'll have to go there eventually," she sighed.
"Well-" I started, but I was interrupted by a creak.
The portrait began swaying by itself, and the chair moved across the floor with no one pushing it.
I sighed, climbed out of bed, and opened the cupboard door. "Come on out, you two."
The Edna Mode lookalike and her husband popped out of the cupboard. Fierce Fox raised her brow.
"We're sorry for trying to fool you," the Edna Mode lookalike apologized. "We're just trying to give the people what they want - a good fright."
"Personally, 'a good fright' is not on my bucket list." I commented.
"We should report you to the Magistrate!" Fierce Fox added, folding her arms.
"No, please don't give our secret away!" the husband pleaded.
"If you want to see The Woman in the Window, just play her favourite song on the violin," the Edna Mode lookalike said.
I nodded to Fierce Fox, and we exited the room. We weren't coming back, thank goodness.
We climbed downstairs and found The Woman in the Window's violin. We exited the hotel, and leaped up to the roof. Fierce Fox played the violin (since I had no musical talent), and it started glowing ghostly pale. Creepy.
I used a pair of binoculars (which I got from a guy illegally hunting ghosts), and spied on an old, stone mansion. An old woman inside a small, circular window waved to me. I got a few chills down my spine.
"Let's go see the woman in the window." I told Fierce Fox.
To do this, we broke into the old woman's house. It… was not exactly the type of house I would consider staying at for vacation. The inside was made out of wood, full of creepy dolls, mannequins, sewing machines, long cloths and broken lampshades.
We climbed up the broken staircase, and passed a picture on the wall of a loving couple. After that, we entered another room, which seemed to be someone's old bedroom. The chandeliers were broken, and the pink wallpaper was torn. At the end of the room, there was a telescope.
Fierce Fox headed over to it, and peered her eye through, searching for ghosts. Meanwhile, I gazed at the room lost in time, and thought about how once it was something beautiful.
"Are you looking for someone?" someone behind us asked.
Fierce Fox jumped, and even I was a little freaked out, despite having heard it a gazillion times.
The lady chuckled. She had pale, wrinkly skin, a dark blue sun hat with flowers, and a frilly, navy dress. This lady's name was Fiona.
"I hope I didn't frighten you, dears," Fiona chuckled.
"Are you a g-g-ghost?" Fierce Fox asked, her teeth chattering.
"Aren't you silly," Fiona replied gently. "I'm merely in town to take care of some unfinished business. If you're looking for spirits, I can help you get started." She gestured outside of the window. "See Jane the baker and tell her Fiona sent you."
Fierce Fox gave me a wary glance.
"Don't worry," I told her. "We can trust Fiona. We should do as she said."
"Fiona sent us." Fierce Fox told Jane the baker once we arrived at her adorable little bakery.
"Well, isn't that something?" Jane chuckled. "You must be serious about tracking our town's spirits. One moment, please."
She walked over to a display cabinet and pressed a button. The cabinet disappeared, and was replaced with a selection of ghost-stalking- uh, tracking, equipment.
"I present you the ultimate in ghost-tracking gadgetry," she told us. "Since you are a friend of Fiona, they are yours to keep." She held up a hand as Fierce Fox reached out to grab an item. "I'll warn you, though. Some are more effective than others, depending on the spirit."
She explained to us briefly what the contraptions could do, then let us take them, as well as some hot cross buns.
"Alright," I gazed at Fierce Fox. "It's time to become Ghostbusters."
We started our ghost-stalking- uh, tracking journey at my favourite place - the cemetery.
I tried not to tremble like an idiot as we passed through. We eventually made it to a garden full of tombstones, which I really wanted to see (notice the sarcasm).
"So, why are we hunting ghosts?" Fierce Fox asked.
"Because we're gonna expose a big secret," I winked.
The two of us climbed up a grassy hill, and spotted a girl waiting at the top.
"The cloaked spirit should be here any second!" she cried. "We'd better hide."
"Cloaked spirit." I groaned. "Wonderful."
All of us sneaked behind a large tombstone. Soon, we heard the gentle patter of footsteps. I rolled my eyes, knowing that the 'spirit' wasn't a spirit at all, but the Magistrate. Why, you may ask. Long story, my friend.
"Shh, I hear footsteps!" the girl whispered. "I really wish I'd brought my camera."
Just as she said that, a man wearing a thick, black, hooded cloak came out, clutching a rose. I stealthily snapped a picture using a camera we received from Jane.
"That's the Magistrate." I blurted out to Fierce Fox and the girl.
"It is?" Fierce Fox asked, her brow raised. "Let's confront him!"
"No!" I whisper-shouted, but Fierce Fox ignored me.
"I know who you are!" she yelled at the spirit. It faced her for a second, before racing off into the fog. "Shoot! Lost him in the fog."
"That was the Magistrate?" the girl asked, raising her brow. "Doesn't seem like it to me!"
I sighed. "It's a long story."
Fierce Fox had a scowl on her face. "Let's go after him!"
An idea started to form in my head. "Good idea… but we need to get him out of hiding first."
"Sensational!" the editor cried. "This is front page stuff!"
The editor, of course, was the editor of the local newspaper, the Hemlock Hearld. We stood inside her office, facing the giddy Poptropican.
She held out some bills. "Here's the $50 I promised. I suggest you find a safe place for it."
The machine beside her pumped up and down, already working on making some newspapers with the image we'd taken.
So, the fifty bucks. Were we going to spend it? Of course not! We headed over to the bank, and stashed our money there. Also, we tracked a ghost underneath the bank vault, which happened to be an escapee from jail.
After that, we headed outside, where the picture had made big news.
"I knew ghosts were real!" a tourist exclaimed. "And people thought I was crazy!"
He showed Fierce Fox and I the newspaper. The Magistrate arrived, sweat on his face.
"This isn't any proof at all!" his voice wavered. "I'm sure it's just another hoax."
"He's probably right, guys," I agreed, with a gleam in my eyes. "Maybe we should all leave and hit the hay."
Fierce Fox gave me a funny look.
"Whatever," the tourist huffed. "I still think it's legit!"
The tourist and others shrugged at each other, then walked off, leaving us alone with the Magistrate.
I started on him. "So, Henry Flatbottom, how's leaving roses for Fiona going?"
"How do you know about that?!" the Magistrate demanded, stepping back.
"I know a few things," I answered, folding my arms. "I know your side of the story. I know you want the spirits to forgive you for what you did to Valiant. And they can." I felt my voice crack up. "But… you need to accept them first. You need to tell the truth, Henry."
Henry was silent for a moment. He grimaced at me. "I know you. You're the prophesied hero."
"Henry…" I narrowed my eyes.
Henry sighed. "I don't know how you know this. Maybe it's because you're the prophesied hero… but that aside, you're right. It may not work, but I can try."
"Yes," I replied.
I chewed my lip. I've tried enough and I've failed, you know it won't work.
I ignored it, and stared at Henry. "They will accept your forgiveness, Henry. They just want to live the afterlife in peace."
"Wait," Fierce Fox held up a hand. "I don't understand the story!"
"Let's go and see Fiona, and I'll explain," I told her. I faced Henry. "Go to her grave. We'll meet you there."
We returned to Fiona's house. The stairs creaked under our feet as we climbed up them, making me shiver. Eventually, we reached Fiona's bedroom, and entered. However, Fiona had vanished.
"Fiona?" I called out softly. Her bed, torn curtains and other objects were there, but there was no Fiona.
I sighed. "I guess she must've gone back to the cemetery."
"The cemetery?" Fierce Fox questioned, staring at me.
"My dears," Fiona appeared behind us.
Fierce Fox and I both jumped. Man, she was good at sneaking up on people.
"I have heard rumours that you two know what truly happened to my dear Valiant," Fiona said.
"Yes," I nodded. "You see… your friend Henry tricked him."
Fiona's eyes went wide. "No… it can't be…" She gritted her teeth. "Henry! I have no remorse for discarding your ring!"
"But there's more," I narrowed my eyes. "We need to go to the abandoned prison."
"Abandoned prison?" Fierce Fox asked.
I bit my lip. "You'll see."
A man, in exchange for our motel room key, let us use his boat. We sailed across to a desolate island, where there was a crumbling prison.
The front part was covered in barbed, destroyed wires. The jail itself was made out of grey, crumbling stone, and the door said 'Repent', with a dragon above it.
Inside, there were ripped and rotten jail cells, cracked walls, a working elevator (I know, right?) and ghosts. Just my kind of place.
We climbed into the working elevator (as if the place couldn't get any better) and headed into Block D. I cringed at the various jail cells, the daunting aura surrounding them.
We approached Cell 8, where there was a rocking wheel chair, a plate, and a message. I couldn't get a bad feeling out of my gut, though. Something… was waiting for us.
No, I thought. This is what we need to do.
"Let's go in!" Fierce Fox said, entering the cell.
"Hold on!" I shouted, holding out my hand. But too late.
Fierce Fox entered the cell. Suddenly, the bars closed up, leaving her trapped.
She banged her fists against the bars. "What the-"
"Fierce Fox!" I cried, my neck prickling. "Push that bed!"
Fierce Fox faced a ruined, distorted bed. She pressed her fists on the side, and shoved with all her strength.
"It… won't… budge!" she panted, sweat climbing down her cheeks.
"Hold on," I breathed in, hand on my chest. "It'll be okay! I know how to get you out."
I stormed up to the Warden's office, which was lost and forgotten. The walls were torn, dust covering everything. There were broken pictures, dead curtains and destroyed hanging lights. From my items, I brought out a serving of hot cross buns, which attracted a ghost swaying on a rocking chair.
The ghost, the warden, gobbled up the hot cross buns, then faced me. I took a deep breath, crossing my arms.
"Hello," I tried not to shake. "My friend is stuck in one of your cells. Can you please let her go?"
"No," the Warden replied sternly. "No one can ever escape again."
"You have to let go of the past," I told him. "Fierce Fox didn't do anything wrong. This place is nothing but memories now."
"No one will ever escape again!" the Warden shouted dramatically, his ghostly aura glowing.
"She's not a prisoner!" I shouted. "Please… this isn't fair. We're going to make this right. We'll heal the wounds from the past. But you have to let her go."
The Warden grimaced. "The wounds…"
"It'll be okay," I told him. "Leave it to us. We know what we're doing." I breathed out. "We're the heroes of Poptropica."
"Very well…" the warden sighed. "But you must fix the mistakes made."
"We will," I promised.
Fierce Fox and I docked at the mainland and headed over to the cemetery.
"How'd you convince him to let me go?" she asked, raising a brow.
"Words can go a long way," I shrugged.
"What's with all the ghosts, anyway?" Fierce Fox asked.
"So, Henry - the Magistrate - was in love with Fiona, but was jealous because his best friend Valiant was the one she was in love with," I told her. "So he… set up his best friend's death in order to marry Fiona. I don't think he meant for him to die, but…" I turned away. "She turned him down."
"Seriously?" Fierce Fox asked.
"Yes, but…" I stared at my hands. "That's not the only skeleton in Henry's closet."
We returned to where we saw the 'cloaked spirit'. We met with Henry, and found out the ghosts had forgiven him, including Fiona. Fierce Fox narrowed her eyes. Fiona's skin was ghostly pale… translucent.
"Fiona is a ghost as well?" Fierce Fox asked.
"And they forgave me at last," Henry sobbed. "Thank you both for helping me." He grinned, handing us the medallion.
"So many plot twists," Fierce Fox uttered.
"At least we can finally get out of this creepy place," I grumbled.