A/N: quick note, I don't know what is considered scary here so if you don't like ghost/darker stories, don't read. (mentions of drowning)
When I sat down to write this (before I typed it since I prefer to write out most of the stories (especially ones like this), I had just listened to older nineteenth and twentieth century short ghost stories. In that particular audio book, Rudyard Kipling's (''My Own True Ghost Story'') and J. Sheridan Le Fanu's stories (''Narrative of the Ghost of a Hand'') stood out to me the most plot-wise. Hence, Dick's own rather strange ghost tale, as he tells it in his travel journal.
...
Anyway, XD all that said to say that this is yet another example of how my writing style can change depending on what I've been reading lately. Enjoy! :D
Journal entry:
Date: 19/2/448786
Time: Near midnight (11:23 Standard Time, to be exact)
Location: aboard my ship, the Lodestar, on the returning trip to Coruscant, currently in hyperspace.
It was my tenth day at the settlement and to be my last. Dear reader (as always, assuming this is Senator Amidala), as you know, both from past experiences and previous pages of this journal, day (or night) ten always seems to be the tipping point for me on whether the rest of my assigned adventure will be fair or choppy seas.
Last night truly was no different (A/N: however, due to your letter of emergency, I have had to return as soon as possible. Hence why I write this in my starship rather then back in the bungalow of which I am going to tell you).
See, at the village (previously described), there are many small one room bungalows in which guests are received and kept. Being a foreigner, I was no different. As I was not the first to be entertained, I was placed in the bungalow at the far edge of the village, just on the out-skirts of the woods. It was a very nice place and I rather liked it. Though it was small (as most one room houses tend to be), I found it quite cozy after long walks in the nearby jungle wilderness. Made of a sturdy mix of a wooden frame covered in dried mud bricks, roofed by tiles of the same material (though apparently dyed a different color), and petite windows made by a collaboration of clear glass patchworked together through the walls, for variety, it is modest, simple, and very much described the village it was created for.
Now, before I had gotten into the description of this place, I probably should have explained why I am writing this particular night down. When I was first commissioned, you said you wanted to hear all of my adventures (and Maker bless the man who can photographically remember all his without missing a detail. Yet I am not one of those; Hence, writing them down while it is still fresh in my mind will have to suffice) and this is one of them. Though, whether to believe it or not, I shall leave up to you.
(Most simply, and aptly put, I have (in that place on that night) been visited by a ghost...sort of. Ghost, spirit, wraith...call it what you will. Insanity or mere weather conditions playing with my imagination even...I shall allow you, Dear Reader, to decide what you believe it was. But as in my mind (which is almost made up on the matter), I shall continue with this...If even for the fact that I now have yet another story to tell and this one is my first ghost story (yippee!) Anyway, that was reeeeeaaaaaaally long just to set the stage for the dramatic opening)
*Continue stereotypical narrator's voice*
I recall - as the events happened not that long ago - the day had been windy; there seemed to be a storm coming from the mountains and it left the air chilly. Naturally, after having just gotten used to the warm weather, this left me rather cross to the point that I decided to part company early with my host and head straight to bed where I fell asleep until I was awaken by a sudden clash of thunder that startled me from my slumber.
I grumbled a tad to myself, but quickly turned over on my mat and thought nothing of it as I once again waited for sleep to come. It was the temperate region, I reasoned to myself. Weather was often like that in regions such as this; always coming out from seemingly nowhere. That in mind, I waited...but sleep refused to come. An hour passed...then two...and three...
So melancholy and bored was I that I literally counted the minutes as I lay there. Yet, while I lay there, I noticed how quiet it had gotten. Frowning to myself at this oddity, I briefly pondered why as - after all - I had been awakened by a storm. Had I been so bored I failed to noticed the turmoil end? No, surely not. No such storm could have simply...vanished.
Barely had my thought come to mind however when...there it was again! Outside, rain and thunder fought and clashed, terrible explosions of noise.
Odd, thought I, Odd. Very odd indeed.
I will not say I was afraid (it was only a rain gale, after all); yet I will admit I was cautious at the very thought of leaving my bed roll to step outside when the weather was so obviously downcast. Even so...
Bemoaning my own stubbornness, I slipped to the doorway and opened it a crack. But to my amazement...the night was quiet, the ground near completely dry save for the midnight dew and the wind was still. Through the tropical trees I could see the faintest shimmer of stars on the black canvas known as night. Momentarily, I considered slapping myself to see if I was truly awake or if I was in a dream. I admit, I am still not quite sure.
Shaking my head as I turned from the door, I closed it and returned to my bed roll, determined to pass this off. I nearly succeeded. Yet, as always, 'nearly' does not mean 'fully.'
Ten minutes later, another clash. Rain sounded and with it, a rapping at my window. I froze. That was, I believe, the moment the clock would have hit the witching hour, as something...dark and heavy set down upon the room. I do not think I could possibly explain it further then that other then to say it was additionally frightening.
As you know, I am not one well to succumb to fear, but as I lay there, I froze; my every sense abnormally alert for the slightest of sounds. There was another sense of gloom falling...and once again, I noticed the end of the 'weather.'
It had to be a trick, I thought. Surely that was it. A recording on a holocam, hidden somewhere here in the room. With that in mind, I was emboldened to go up and search, though it proved fruitless. There was no sign of any possible hiding space for such a devise. Beginning to feel on edge, I lay back down on my mat and waited.
The darkness had not lifted and every-so often, the likeness of a terrible turmoil raged...when all of a sudden, the 'rain' and 'lightning' stopped. Yet set on edge once more was I by this. Only the wind remained.
Tap, tap, tap.
I started, surprised. Over there, across the room from me, at the window, came a gentle tapping. Raising a brow, I held still. The wind blew harder, making the bungalow creak from strain.
Tap, scrape, tap, scrape, scrape.
Slowly, I rolled to my feet, making no sound. What was going on? All at once, I heard the gale shift...and so did the rapping, tapping...it changed...to the window nearer by bed roll.
''Who is it?'' I demanded, the merest hint of shaking in my voice.
Yet only answered the wind.
The tapping resumed, closer now even then before and faster.
Tap, tap, scrape, tap tap, scrape, tap, scrape, scrape...
An animal, possibly? No, it sounded far too controlled, to-too specialized for that.
Narrowing my eyes, I dressed quickly, belted on my blaster and once more started for the door, my hand carefully near my hip. It was passed midnight now and this was going to end.
My free hand had just griped the handle, however, when a shadow fell upon the front window. I (and it) froze. Mentally, I cursed my own cowardice and flung open the door...
No one and nothing was there save the wind. And the ground was trackless except from the ones the day prior. Baffled, I once more froze as an odd chill seemed to sweep through me. I felt my blood go cold and I shut the door, not willing to stay up a moment longer. Outside it seemed, if it truly was, that the wind was again blowing steadily.
Giving a shudder, I lay restless, ill at ease before finally managing to sleep; yet through it, rest and peace did not come as the dreams were haunted. Off in the distance, I could hear the screams of terror from woman and children. I knew not where they came from, only that it was terrible. In the dreams, I was trapped inside a metal cage, buffeted by the ocean while I could do nothing but watch as the water got higher and higher around me. Try as I might, there was no escape, both because of the cage's bars itself and that it was chained down.
I sat there, cramped, literally drowning in terror and sea...yet in the dream, I never died. Only suffocated, the screams of people - men, woman, children - accompanying my own gurgled pleas as the sea overtook me, lungs and nostrils burning from the salt water. Needless to say, when I woke from the nightmare, I lay shaking in a cold sweat upon my bed roll until dawn.
The moment I heard the rustle of grass as the animals were led out, the spicy smells of breakfast cooked over an open fire, and the muddled jargon of villagers waking, I was up and outside, breathing in the chilled sunrise air. Dew was slick under my boots as I stepped through it, the rich earthy smell beginning to calm my nerves from the night before. None the less, I met with my host as soon as I could, hoping for answers.
At first, I said nothing on the subject and merely let him talk, hoping that he himself would strike down that path with a simple 'By the way, did you hear that strange wind last night?' or 'My, I had the strangest occurrence last night.'
Yet none of these he said nor nothing of the like.
Had it just been me?
At last, before the dew had begun to dry (that is to say, still early in the day) I pulled him aside from the main group and asked for the origins of the bungalow in which I had resided. When I mentioned it, he got a rather mournful look on his face.
''Ah,'' said he, ''Trouble, some may say those bungalows are, mate. Shame really. See, this settlement here was set under - shall I say - odd regulations that prohibited cutting down very many of the natural forest here to make this charming place possible. Instead, we had to import the wood - that was used for the frames - from a nearby planet. Oddly enough, though it had a few continents, it was mostly an ocean planet...Unfortunately, that's why we were able to use this wood.''
At that, I perked.
''An-an ocean planet?'' I repeated.
''Aye,'' he replied, ''Pity. Before we got the wood, these boards were used for another settlement down on a little port. Well, one season, the rain was especially bad and one night, the town was flooded. It had been midnight when it came so no one could have possibly known; and understand, due to thieves, the weather, and the ocean, in order to stay safe, folks down there had to lock up tight as they could. Problem was, though they did what they could, they couldn't fix the gaps at certain points of the houses. Those gaps were what got all those poor folks killed.''
Here he paused, sighing to himself as he stared down at the grass. ''Poor souls. Nearby there had been another town that was higher up...when we went for the wood and asked about it, they said they could hear the frantic screams of the people as they tried to escape from their own homes that they had locked up for their safety.''
Hearing that, I sat back on my heels, shuddering.
''Yes,'' the man continued, ''Some would say the dead still linger inside their homes, now able to escape...yet still locked up just the same...''
He paused and, to Dick's shocked horror, burst out laughing.
''Ah, but the last part is just tales made up to scare children when they don't obey. Bah, old fools, the lot who come up with that. The nerve they have to go around frightening people like that for no reason! All it does is cause trouble. A rabbling lot that have nothing more to life then sit around creating old wives legends. Testy roosters. I ain't never seen nor heard a ghost in the nine years I've lived here - and that's more then most can say 'round here. If they isn' shown up in those nine years then there's surely no reason they'll show up now, I say.''
There was more he had to say on the matter, but I could only ponder all the lives lost in that fateful storm.
Such a pity, I agreed.
All at once I remembered something else of the previous night and had to ask.
''Say, in that old catastrophe, were there any mentions of of scraping and tapping around the windows?''
''Er? Oh no, sir, not quite. Least, never on its own. After all, I said people tried to get out...with the doors under water, where else could you get out?''
He suddenly peered at me very closely.
''Now you seem to be a level-headed chap,'' he said, ''Why are you asking all these questions on ghost stories all of a sudden?''
I stumbled for my words for a moment before replying that ghost stories always seemed to permeate the culture of every place I had ever been to and that I was curious to see if this place had one too (which, was partly true).
He laughed, slapping his knee.
''Sure do. As I've said, it's not more then fables, but we've got a few. Why, every-so often, some one'll say they've been visited by shade at one point or another during the night. Something about unexplained weather that vanishes when they step outside, rapping's on the windows, no tracks outside; stuff like that. Eh, foolish nonsense, if you ask me. But you don't suppose anything those people are saying is real, do ya? Probably just been hitting the bottle too hard.''
Under any other circumstances, I would have thoroughly agreed with him...but after that night, I wasn't so sure.
I was about to ask him one more question on that matter (by now I have forgotten what it was) but that was when your transmission came in and I had to leave. Still, on the way back to my ship the Lodestar, I paused in front of the bungalow in which I had spent the night. What ever 'spirit shadow' or darkness that might have been there the night before had left no evidence of its existence ever residing on that spot. Still, inwardly, I shuddered. Whatever strange occurrence had happened, it had only been that night...and before I was to leave?...Why?
Well, after that, really, there is nothing more worth telling. I left, promising the young ones I would return someday - as they always do beg me to. Then I lifted off. I am now on my way back to Coruscant where I will give a more detailed account on the mission.
-Dick.
Dropping the permipen, Dick lay back in his bunk, rubbing his eyes. Since the ship was on auto-pilot, he knew he didn't have to worry about staying up to fly and since Coruscant was still several hours away, he had planned on getting some rest...but...he'd also wanted to finish the journal entry. He sighed. He'd been writing for the past three hours straight, trying to get everything down before he forgot it and now he could feel his body suffering because of it.
Honestly, it's a wonder why I do this to myself.
While he hadn't been exaggerating in his narrative (on the events, at least), something about it was still making him uneasy. He peered down at the brown leather journal...then shrugged, tossing it away as he dropped his fedora over his eyes.
Yeah, its been a really weird couple of weeks...come to think of it, my whole life's weird. Eh, if nothing else, hope some one gets a kick out of it. Huh, fat chance of that though...After all, no one else really knows my backstory.
He thought about that briefly, eyes closed and hands clasped behind his head...before once again shrugging, a slight smirk on his face.
Eh, no one else needs to know; not yet. I'm not ready to start writing my memoirs yet. Too young, too little done.
Dick had just fallen into a light nape when suddenly an alarm started buzzing. It was the comm!
What in the blazes!?
Hastily checking his position first, he pulled out of hyperspace, opening the link as soon as he was able. Before him, his old squad mate and comrade Mason stood rigidly, tense as if he was ready to sprint off at a moments notice.
''Dick,'' he said, usually teasing voice now hard with concentration, ''Listen up, I only got time to tell you this once. Remember your last exploration project over at Ishrakni? Good, you'd better. You know we wouldn't pull you out of a mission for no reason. Dick, the Seps attacked it and you're the only one who knows the terrain...well, what used to be the terrain. Senator Amidala has already given the go-ahead; you're to head to Bothawui and we'll meet you there. More details when we meet up.''
''On it.''
''Good. See you on the lines, brother.''
He was about to cut the comm, but Dick suddenly asked (surprising himself), ''How bad is it?''
Mason peered at him carefully for a moment before shaking his head.
''Pretty bad. Seps aren't taking any chances since the Ishraknis joined the Republic. The whole lower half of section of one of the continents is under water. Dooku's forces broke the dam, flooding all the towns in that region.''
At that, Dick froze.
''F-flooded?'' he repeated slowly.
''Yeah,'' Mason sighed, ''Mostly woman and children. All drowned in their own homes because of how they set up for the night. Commander Monnk and his boys are still waterside in covert ops to see if there were survivors, but it's unlikely. When we arrive, we'll be teaming up so get ready.''
''I'll be there.''
His voice sounded distant in his own ears. His own footsteps sounded hollow as he returned to the main cabin after jumping again for his new location.
'All of them drowned in their own homes...'
He paused, glanced down at the journal...and slowly picked it up...
ang dulo (Filipino) the end
Dundundunduuuuuuuuh. So yeah, there we go...completely random ghost story that kind of shows the other side to the two clowns we've been seeing so far. They can be silly, but they can also be serious when the situation calls for it; but don't worry, fun stories will be coming much more often then ones likes these. :D
Ladies and Gents, thank you kindly for reading! :D I hope you enjoyed it (please let me know in the comments)
By the way, I should probably clarify, a lot of Dick's shorter (and even longer, when I get around to them after we get out stuff out of storage) stories will be in first person due to the fact that the stories are mostly from his 'adventuring journals' and were those writer's jokes dotted in there? Yes, they were. XD
Thanks to STARWARZMYLIFE, KarajeJinsta, Revee, and The Caramel Cat for reviewing the last chapter! :D
