That night, I had a strange dream. I dreamed of two people in a laboratory: a girl with messy, brown hair in a pigtail and a ripped black shirt with the words 'REVENGE'. And a man, though I couldn't see him- only his shadow.
"The plans are going well," the man boomed, his voice shaking the room like thunder. "She will come to 'destroy' the totems, believing them to be my plan to take over Poptropica- but she will not realize my true plans."
"But she'll know it's you!" the girl insisted, placing a hand in her ripped jeans. "She knows who you are!"
"Not if we trick her," the man replied. "We will trick her into believing our plans. She won't realize what the real plan is. Especially if we use her little friend today." Evil entered his tone. "Our plan today involves using her friend. She will believe that the real plan involves such thing, too. Now, are you ready to set up the taster?"
"Of course, m'lord." the girl said, bowing. She faced me; something about her felt familiar. However, before I could figure it out, the screen blacked out. I heard a woman's voice in the distance:
Be careful, Alice.
"This island's creeping me out already." I mumbled, as we arrived on Hemlock Harbor. There are creepy, wooden buildings standing, 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 like this island, despite all the creepy ghosts and stuff. It proves Poptropicans aren't immortal. They're called 'mortal' for a reason.
Anyway, we headed over to the cemetery. I don't feel very comfortable around cemeteries, even before… certain events happened. The night sky was dawning upon us, and someone walked out of the cemetery: 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. 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 sighed again. "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 at a guy standing near the cemetery gates. "He's looking for his uncle's grave. Credit me now, it took forever to memorize this- Lot C, Plot 84."
"Thanks, and good work." Fierce Fox said, as she spoke to the mopey nephew. In return, he handed her a room key, and she returned to me. We headed over to a 'haunted' hotel, which is 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 looks like Edna Mode) said. "Well, I'm off to meet my husband. We need to make preparations… for the night." She walked off.
"They're going to try and scare us." I explained.
"Why?" Fierce Fox asked, raising her brow.
"Money," I answered, rolling my eyes. "Come on, let's go to our room." We climbed the creaky stairs and entered our little apartment. The good news was- oh wait, there was no good news. Well, except from the fact that the room has a bed. Apart from that, it's trash. There's a creepy portrait; ancient curtains; cobwebs; a rotting chair; a cupboard. Oh, and the worst part of all? There's only one bed.
I shivered. "Well… it looks like we have to… um, share the bed." Of course I've shared beds before. When I was little with my parents. But I hadn't actually been to a sleepover before (rude people never invited me), and besides, I'd never shared a bed with another person. I guess today was a bit of a change.
Fierce Fox sighed. She didn't feel awkward about it, surprisingly. "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. I could tell Fierce Fox wasn't asleep, because… well, I could just tell.
"So…" I decided to start up a conversation. "It comes to mind, but… do you think you have a family? Like, other than me. I didn't give birth to you- oh, that sounds so weird. We humans don't do that."
"Now that you mention it…" Fierce Fox took a deep breath. "I do have a family. All Poptropicans do." Her voice became a little solemn. "I just haven't seen them in a while. In fact, I've been so busy with adventuring I'd almost forgot about them. I'm not exactly the same Poptropican I was when I lived with them. I've changed. That's your fault."
"Oh… sorry." I replied sheepishly.
Fierce Fox waved it off. "It's alright. I like being an adventurer."
"Do you know where your family is now?" I asked, gazing at the mucky ceiling.
Fierce Fox shrugged. She seemed a bit uncomfortable. "I don't really remember. I think they live on Mocktropica Island. Like I said, I don't really remember. It's been too long." She gazed at me. "What about your family?"
"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 an eyebrow.
"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 at Fierce Fox; we exited the room. We weren't coming back, which was a good thing, since I did not (and never will) like that haunted room.
Anyway, we went 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 have 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. A woman, inside a small, circular window, waved at me. I got a few chills down my spine.
"Let's go see the woman in the window." I said. To do this, we broke into the old woman's house. It's not exactly a house I would at for a vacation. The inside's made of wood, and is full of creepy dolls; mannequins; sewing machines; long cloths; broken lampshades. There's a reason why I dislike this island: it's so creepy.
We climbed the broken staircase, and passed a picture of a loving couple. After that, we entered another room, which seems to be someone's old bedroom. The chandeliers are broken, and the pink wallpaper's torn. At the end of the room, there's a telescope. Fierce Fox headed over to it and peered 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. The lady chuckled. She had pale, wrinkly skin (not to be rude- she wasn't exactly young), a dark blue sun hat with flowers and a frilly, navy dress. This lady's name was- and I say was for a reason- Fiona. "I hope I didn't frighten you, dears."
"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. "See Jane the baker and tell her Fiona sent you."
"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. Since you are a friend of Fiona, they are yours to keep."
Jane held up a hand as Fierce Fox reached out to grab them. "I'll warn you, though. Some are more effective than others, depending on the spirit." She explained what the contraptions could do, then let us take them, as well as some hot cross buns.
"Alright," I said, facing Fierce Fox. "Let's go be better Ghostbusters than the remake."
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). 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." We hid 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.
"Shh, I hear footsteps!" the girl whispered. "I really wish I'd brought my camera." Just as she said that, a dude 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. Stupid smart mouth.
"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'. He 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!"
"Well, it is." I sighed. Fierce Fox had a scowl on her face.
"Let's go after him!" she insisted, making a fist.
An idea started to form in my head. "Good idea," I agreed. "But we need to get him out of hiding first."
"Sensational! This is front page stuff!" the editor at the Hemlock Herald (the newspaper place) cried. "Here's the $50 I promised. I suggest you find a safe place for it." And so, we received some money. 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! And people thought I was crazy!" a tourist exclaimed, showing Fierce Fox and I the newspaper. The Magistrate arrived, with sweat on his face.
"This isn't any proof at all! I'm sure it's just another hoax." he announced, his voice wavering.
"He's probably right, guys," I agreed, with a gleam in my eyes. "Maybe we should all leave and hit the hay." The tourists 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.
"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."
The Magistrate was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Prophesied hero…"
"Great." I mumbled, while Fierce Fox's muscles tensed.
The Magistrate sighed. "I don't know how you know this. Maybe it's because you're the prophesied hero." I saw Fierce Fox glower at this. "But hero or not, you're right. It may not work, but I can try."
"True," I replied. I chewed my lip. I've tried enough and failed, you know it won't work, a voice in my head said. I ignored it, and stared at the Magistrate. "They probably will accept your forgiveness. They just want to live the afterlife in peace."
"Wait," Fierce Fox held up her hand. "I don't understand the story!"
"Let's go and see Fiona," I told Fierce Fox. I faced the Magistrate. "Go to her grave. We'll meet you there."
We returned to Fiona's house. The stairs creaked under our feet as we climbed them, making me shiver. We reached Fiona's bedroom. 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.
"Wait," I noticed a note on the ground. Raising my eyebrow, I picked it up. "'Dear my friends,
I've seen that you know the story. Glorious! Before you come to the cemetery, speak to the guard at the prison. He is in Cell 8, Block D. You'll understand why.
-Fiona.'"
"The guard at the prison?" Fierce Fox asked. I bit my lip.
"You'll see."
A man, in exchange for our room key, let us use his boat. We sailed over to a desolate island, where there's a crumbling prison. The front part is covered in barbed, destroyed wires. The jail itself is made of grey, crumbling stone, and the door says 'Repent', with a dragon above it. Inside, there are ripped and rotten jail cells; cracked walls; a working elevator (I know, right?); ghosts. Just my kind of place.
Anyway, we climbed into the elevator (as if this place couldn't get any better) and headed into Block D. I cringed at the various jail cells, and the daunting aura surrounding them. We approached Cell 8, where there was a rocking wheel chair, a plate and a message. Suddenly, fear crawled over me like a spider. Something felt... off about it. I felt like we were being set up.
Our plan today involves using her friend. She will believe that the real plan involves such thing, too.
"Let's go in!" Fierce Fox said, entering the cell.
"No!" I shouted, holding out my hand. But too late. Fierce Fox picked up the message, her eyebrow raised.
"'Hey sucker'," she read. "'Hope you enjoy being trapped. Oh, don't pout. This is a sample of what's coming for you. In the meantime, have fun in that little cell.'" Just as she finished, 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.
"Whoever locked you in here- probably one of Zeus' minions- must know all the tricks," I sighed, shaking my head. "There'll be another way to get you out, I'm sure of it." I sounded collected on the outside, but inside, I was panicking like crazy. I wondered if heroes did such thing. Probably not.
What do I do? I thought. Come on Alice, you've got a brain, use it! Hmm… maybe I can confront the Warden? No, he won't listen to a mortal. Will he? How do you get people to listen to you? I felt my brain putting the pieces together. Intimidation! But how in the heck do you intimidate a ghost? Obviously death and pain threats won't work. There has to be something else… hmm… what could intimidate a ghost? Um…
Sometimes the answer can be found from you, Athena's voice in my head said. That makes... some sense, I thought. What intimidates me? Other than death threats. Those people at my school… people who have more power than me. But what has more power than ghosts? Someone who rules over them? Suddenly I grinned.
Bingo.
I stormed up to the Warden's office, which is lost and forgotten. The walls are torn, and dust covers everything. There are broken pictures, dead curtains and destroyed hanging lights. 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, and fiddled through my items again. It was like entering a whole new world (sorry everyone) in there. Eventually, I pulled out the right item, and let a gleam settle in my eye.
"Hello," I said, in the best fearsome tone I could produce. "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."
"Last chance," I declared. "Please, let her go, and we'll go peacefully. I don't want to wear it..."
"No one will ever escape again!" the Warden shouted dramatically, his ghostly aura glowing. I sighed.
"Then maybe this will change your mind." I retorted, placing the item- Hades' crown- on my head. I felt the same power rush from Mythology Island (except not as strong), and immediately increased in height (which feels kind of weird). It probably would've been better if the actual Hades showed up, but I felt too nice to bother him. (Well, on the contrary, he might've been okay with it, since Ghost Story is all about death and stuff.)
"That isn't…" the Warden gasped, stepping back from my enlarged height. "Where…"
"Yes, it is," I replied, feeling oddly superior. "I got it from the actual guy. He gave it to me. Now, open the cell or I'll… uh... make your afterlife worse!"
Fierce Fox and I docked the mainland, and headed over to the cemetery. Fierce Fox thanked me for rescuing her, though her face was a little hard when she said this. She kept silent as we continued our journey to the cemetery. Soon, we arrived there, and returned to where we saw the 'cloaked spirit'. We met with the Magistrate, and found out the ghosts had forgiven him, including Fiona, which made me wonder who sent us that letter. Probably Zeus' servant.
"Thank you both for helping me." the Magistrate said, handing us the medallion.
"I still don't know the story." Fierce Fox remarked, folding her arms.
"Ask them!" I cried, as my screen faded white, ending another quest.