Chapter 1

I don't know why I'm writing this.

It's not like I'm going to forget it. It wasn't like any of the obstacles I've had to face before. And now we're back home and everything is back to normal. Or as normal as my life could possibly get.

Maybe that's why I'm writing this. No one talks about it. To them it was just another adventure where I had to do something to save everyone. But they weren't there for all of it. They don't know what I went through. And I'm not telling them.

So then why am I writing this? What am I going to do with it after I'm done? Send it in and try to get it published as some great work of fantasy with some moral about good and evil? No. I think I'm writing this just for me. So, in the future, I can go back and remind myself not to make the same stupid mistakes again. Remind myself what I've learned and why I fight.

Everyone needs to be reminded of their faults at times. I'm not going to be deceived again. And I think I need to just tell someone. Even if it's just the blank paper in front of me. I don't care if the person I tell is listening. I'm just glad I got out of this alive and with my soul intact.



You know what frustrates me about girls? They're like…like a pound cake in a hot oven. If you open the oven too soon by letting them know you like them-or something horrible like that- you get a tortilla. My problem is I'm not much of a cook.

"How was it?" Sam asked as I joined them where they had stopped to wait for me on our walk home. Sam Manson was one of my best friends, but she was the reason for my frustration with girls. I'd liked her for a while. I'd only admitted it to myself last year, but after thinking about I realized that I had liked her before that. We were juniors now and I still hadn't had the courage to say anything. I just didn't know how to go about it. We were best friends. How could I do it without ruining our friendship?

"It was just the Box Ghost, Sam," my other best friend, Tucker Foley, replied. "Since when has he ever caused anything more than a nuisance?"

"I'm fine, Sam." I reassured as she sent a glare Tucker's way. "Nothing to worry about."

She relaxed and changed the subject. "So what's the plan for this week-end?"

"Jazz is coming home today. My family is going to the airport to pick her up right when I get home. I might be able to do something with you guys later tonight." I explained.

"Why is she coming home?" Tucker asked.

"Spring Break. I'm surprised Jazz doesn't stay there. She loves college."

"Well, whatever the reason, let's just hope no ghosts show up while your gone," Sam remarked.

"The airport isn't that far away. I don't think it will be too much of a problem." We turned the corner to see my parents outside the house waiting for me. The RV looked ready to go.

"Come on, Danny!" Mom called. "We don't want your sister to have to wait for us at the airport."

"I'll see you around guys," I said as I sped up a little towards my house. I waved to them as they said their own good-byes.

"You happy to see your sister again?" Mom asked as I climbed into the RV.

"Yeah." Why wouldn't I be? She could be annoying at times, but, ever since I learned that she knew my secret, things have gotten better. I just wished she wouldn't worry about me. I can take care of myself.

The airport was forty miles away and I had to sit through mom and dad talking about things that I particularly wasn't interested in. Mainly ghost related topics which wasn't surprising. Jazz's flight had come in early so she was already there when we got there. I'm kind of glad because it made our stay there a lot quicker. The security guards were giving my parents suspicious looks. I think the hazmat suits made them uneasy.

The ride home was spent with Jazz talking about her classes this semester, new friends, and just stuff in general. I got the feeling she wanted to talk to me, but that would have to wait until mom and dad were out of earshot.

We were about five miles outside of town when a bang was heard outside the car and a bullet flew through our windshield.

It, thankfully, flew past everyone's heads, but it hit the metal interior of the car and ricocheted off. We had all been thrown forward as Dad hit the breaks. I quickly reached over and grabbed onto Jazz, turning us both intangible before the bullet flew past us and came whizzing back up front. It hit the many controls the RV had and bounced off again, finally leaving out Mom's window.

Mom gave a small yelp as the window shattered; her arms came up trying to protect her face.

"Maddie!" Dad cried. He leaned toward her but she brushed his concern aside.

"I'm fine, Jack." She wasn't fine. I could see blood on her hand when she pulled it away from her face. I cursed myself for not being able to make sure she hadn't been hurt. I should have been able to do something. And now that I was thinking about it, there were probably hundreds of things I could have done. If only I'd thought of them.

I made Jazz and I tangible again as Jazz asked, "What was that?"

"A ghost!" Dad exclaimed as he got out of the car. The three of us followed him, being mindful of the glass on mom's side.

"That was a bullet, Dad." Jazz pointed out. "I don't think ghosts shoot bullets, or carry guns for that matter."

I stayed quiet. I'd seen quite a few things that you wouldn't expect ghosts to have. A motorcycle, a guitar, cursed jewelry, the list went on. For all I knew, a ghost had been the one to shoot that bullet.

"It may not be a ghost, Jack. This may be something for the police, not us."

At that moment, another loud bang was heard down the street. We were on the very outskirts of town. A few warehouses were the only things that surrounded us.

"Kids, get in the Assault Vehicle!" Mom ordered. "We're going to see what's going on."

I needed to see what was going on, too. If it was a ghost and my parents couldn't take care of it then it would be up to me. I quickly climbed in and Jazz followed, watching me as I transformed into Danny Phantom. "What are you going to do if it's not a ghost?" She asked.

I glanced at her. "Makes sure no one gets hurt." And then I quickly rose into the air and went through the vehicle's roof.



There weren't any ghosts. Three men were chasing two others outside one of the warehouses a little down the street. Mom and Dad had not gotten there yet.

I was surprised to see that one of the people they were chasing was old. He looked to be in his seventies. His partner was a young man in his twenties, trying to help the other and they ran around corners, dodging bullets.

The older one clutched something close to his chest. I paused as whatever he was carrying reflected the sunlight for a brief instant. I'd say that maybe they had stolen something, but the men chasing them looked anything but policemen.

The older one wasn't quick enough and the other-his grandson, maybe-cried out in alarm as he was hit in the back. He staggered and fell to his knees. I cursed myself for not acting sooner and charged up an ecto-blast.

"Hey," I called and shot the ground in front of them to make sure I had their attention. "Leave them alone!"

I did get their attention, and they stopped and glared up at me. One even fired at me, but I went intangible. "Go away, ghost!" One of them called. "This doesn't concern you."

"You're shooting at people!" I yelled at them, giving them a glare. "And you're putting others at risk. It does concern me!"

I glanced over at the other two. The old man was trying to give the younger one what was in his hands. I still couldn't make out what it was, but I watched as the other finally gave up trying to get the old man to stand up and took it. He said something and then took off.

One of the three had seen the exchange also and gave a snarl, bringing up his gun to fire at the young man. "No!" I cried out and made all three jump away as I fired another ecto-blast at them. The one with the gun, however, jumped forward instead of back like I had been hoping and ran after the other. Before I could prevent it, I heard him fire.

The young man had reached a fence that encircled an adjacent warehouse and had thrown the thing over before attempting to climb himself. He was just swinging over the top when the shot was fired and the bullet hit his leg. He lost his balance and fell back down to the ground. I dove down in front of him and threw up an ectoplasmic shield. I had no clue whether the shield would work for human weapons, but it worked. I glanced over at the old man. He was now lying face first on the ground, his blood staining a large part of his shirt. I couldn't tell if he was alive.

My anger boiled. What was so important to them that they had to go around killing people? I tried to keep my anger in check. A better question would be what I was going to do now. I couldn't just suck them into the Fenton Thermos like I do with all the ghosts I fight. What was I supposed to do? Stand here with my shield up until they got bored and finally left?

Then a shout from around the corner got their attention and they stopped firing to look behind them. That was Dad's voice. My spirits lifted as I heard my mom's voice next.

"Over here, Jack! Hurry!"

The men looked at each other. They realized reinforcements were coming. There was some unspoken decision and then they turned and ran through the empty field that was behind the warehouses. I relaxed and took my shield down, but quickly went invisible when my parents skidded around the corner.

Mom put a hand over her mouth. A large gash from her shattered window was still bleeding. She would probably need stitches. "Oh my gosh!"

I moved out of the way as each of them went to someone. My shoulders slumped when Mom announced that the old man was dead. Dad already had picked up the other, proclaiming that they would get him to hospital as soon as possible. He tried to say something, but my dad was still talking and he gave up, glancing back at the fence.

I realized that whatever the two had had was still there. I turned, curiosity getting the better of me, and I slipped through the fence.

The thing that was on the ground caught the sunlight again and I looked down to see a sword. I gaped at it. The blade was made of silver and the hilt was made of gold, inlayed with several jewels. It looked old. The blade was chipped in several places, showing the copper beneath the silver coating.

Maybe the two really had stolen it. I'd expect something like this to be in a museum. I hadn't heard about any robberies. Why would someone want this so badly? And why would they risk their own lives to keep it away from them. Shaking my head to clear it, I reached down and picked it up.

The first feeling I got when I touched it was repulsion. I almost dropped it. Then a surge of adrenaline ran threw my body as I hefted it. The sword wasn't heavy at all like I had expected it to be. I could see my reflection as I examined it. The jewels on the hilt glinted at me, and for a second I felt like I was being watched. I glanced around. My parents were gone already which meant I should probably start heading back so I got there before they did. But no one else was there. The three men from before had fled and were already gone.

I shook the feeling away as I rose into the air. I gave a small smile as I glanced back down at the sword. Stolen or not, it was still cool, and I couldn't wait to tell Sam and Tucker.

Disclaimer: Danny Phantom is owned by Butch Hartman and I just feel honored that he lets us use his characters for our enjoyment. Thank you, Mr. Hartman.

Please tell me how I did. This is the first time I've worked with first-person, so I would really like your thoughts.

Reviews make miracles.

Faith's melody.