Candye Jordan
Paranormal Mystery & Sci-Fi
Alone
“Crickets chirped tales of long-lost discoveries, forgotten moments as vast as the stars. In the stillness of midnight, I wondered if the moon remembered, or if even the cosmos itself could forget.”
The sun poured in on my face as I turned the last page of my Detective Penny book. I took a deep breath and sighed. Another great mystery. Some things, some people, once forgotten, could never be remembered.
I had to talk to someone about this. I set the book on the pale wood dresser beside my bed and stretched. The plants that circled my room seemed to stretch with me as they reached toward the sun. I cupped a pothos leaf and smiled, then it faded. Even these wouldn’t last forever.
I stepped downstairs, lightly running my hand across the smooth chestnut banister.
“Mom,” I called out.
“Hm?” Mom leaned around the wall separating the living room. She was sitting on the couch with her legs curled up beside her, and she pulled away from her book. She always read those adult mystery thrillers. I wasn’t allowed to read them.
“Mom, I just finished the Penny book where she goes to the observatory.”
“Oh, nice,” Mom smiled. “Did she solve the mystery again?”
I chuckled, “Of course, she always does. But it was… kinda creepy. The way things can be forgotten.”
Mom’s brows pulled together. “Like car keys?”
I laughed, “No! Like…” my lips tightened, “like discoveries and people,” I mumbled.
“Oof, that is creepy.”
“It’s almost like it doesn’t even matter what we do because it could all be erased someday.”
“Oh, that’s not true.” She cocked her head and her wavy, brown hair clumped on her shoulder. “It all makes a difference, even if we don’t realize it. There’s… ripple effects, ya know?”
I nodded. Maybe I was being dramatic.
Mom smiled again, and her eyes scrunched up. “What are you doing now?” she asked as I stepped into the living room. It was so quiet. Mom couldn’t read with that chunky TV on. It sat in the corner on a small, square table beside the fireplace, since we didn’t use it often. And we only had like five VHS tapes.
“Mmm… I don’t know. Wait for the next Penny book, I guess.” I plopped on my back next to her on the couch.
“Oh, come on. Why don’t you go read one of your other books?”
“I read them all already.”
“Don’t you have a favorite one to re-read?”
“No, because I don’t want to get tired of it.” I sat up and peeled the white curtain back on the window behind the couch. “Remember what happened with The Westing Game? Now I can’t even think about reading it anymore.”
“The puzzle one?”
I nodded, staring at the Sugar Maple’s colored leaves scattered across the street.
“What about your mysteries? Anything weird going on in the neighborhood?” She smiled.
I scrunched my lips and shook my head, glancing toward the houses across the road. I used to spy on the neighbors to see if they had any super family secrets or ancient trinkets hidden in their backyards. It was fun, but Mrs. Faulkner caught me and said I was too old for that, so I stopped.
It was silent for a second as Mom held her thumb in her book and stared at the floor.
“Well, I’ll let you read.” I let the curtain drop and heaved myself off the couch.
Mom reached toward my arm, but I was too far. “Don’t worry, you don’t bother me.” She let her hand fall to the earthy-striped couch.
“I just wish I knew someone else who read Penny books.”
Mom’s face scrunched up. “I know. What about the names on the circulation record at the library?”
“No, they’re all in different classes or something. I didn’t recognize any of them.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone. Ask Mrs. Willows tomorrow if she can do some kind of book club or something for the mysteries.”
I smiled, a rush running through me. “That would be so fun!”
Mom laughed. “Good. I hope it goes well,” she called as I clomped back upstairs.
***
In the school cafeteria, I scarfed my lunch down to get to the library before the bell rang. Mrs. Willows sat behind her desk, her lips moving as she pointed at barcodes on the books.
“Hey, Mrs. Willows.” I waved.
Her long, silver waves bounced as she looked up and smiled. She raised an eyebrow behind her multi-colored glasses, “I hope you ate lunch. You’re early.”
“Yeah, it was fine.” I leaned against the counter. “I came to ask you about maybe starting a mystery book club here in the library?”
“Um.” She shook her head, the strands of beads hanging from her glasses clinked. “I don’t know right now, there’s… kind of a problem.” She let out a nervous chuckle.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed. “There was a trolley filled with twenty-five books for Mr. Weston’s class and now the trolley—and the books—are gone. I have a bunch of work to do and I still have to find those books. I’m sorry, Emily.”
I nodded. “Well, maybe someone just moved the trolley somewhere else?”
“I doubt it. I’ve already checked the library, but I can’t really leave right now.” She lifted a stack of books and swept around the counter and down an aisle. After sliding a few into their places, she lifted her glasses.
It was lunch break, so I didn’t have time to help her find the books, but if I could take that weight off her, maybe she could help me start a club.
“Might someone have taken them to the classroom for you?”
“I wondered the same,” she looked over her glasses at me, “and I already called Mr. Weston. He said the books never arrived.”
“Can I help you find them?”
“That’s sweet of you, Emily, but you really don’t have to, and… I just can’t guarantee I can get that club going for you, dear.” She pursed her lips and gave me a sympathetic look.
“It’s okay, I’ve got time before the bell.”
“Well… If you insist. It would be a big help and a load off my shoulders.”
“I’ll do what I can.” I turned and took a few steps away, but I didn’t know where I was going. Books and trolleys didn’t just disappear. Where would Detective Penny start? I pressed through the library doors.
The hallway was quiet and it felt strange as I passed each empty classroom. After about ten minutes of peeping through the doors for a trolley, I noticed a strange streak on the ground around a corner. Like those rubber streaks left behind by sneakers. Except there were two parallel marks, like the book trolley. Was someone racing this thing around the corner?
I checked a few classrooms in that direction and found nothing. I thought for a moment then took out my journal and wrote one more option.
Someone took them, but why? Who would want that many copies of the same book?
Tapping my pen against my journal, my eye caught on something unusual. This potted corn plant was always facing the same direction, but today it looked almost completely different. Maybe it was just bumped, but I wasn’t convinced. I twisted it back the way it usually looked, and a book inside the leaves caught my eye.
I reached in and pulled out one of the copies of the missing books. Was someone playing a prank? And why would they prank on Mrs. Willows?
I walked back to the library, clutching the book to my chest.
Mrs. Willows sped around, tucking books in their places.
“I found this one in the corn plant down the hallway.” I handed Mrs. Willows the book.
She shook her head and her lips went thin.
“I can help you look for the rest.”
“No, you have class soon. I’ll find the rest before I go home. But I know what you can do. Better than I could.”
A rush ran through me. “What’s that?”
“Find out who did it.” She winked.
Perfect.
***
I would keep an eye out for the culprit throughout the day when we switched between classes. I spent a little more time in the hallway, rather than rushing straight to class. Kids walked in pairs or groups, chatting and laughing.
As I leaned against the wall near the library, cradling the books for my next class, there were two boys I recognized but never spoke to. A red-headed boy with curls, and a short boy with a buzzed cut. He reached into a small alcove in the white brick wall. There was a painting in there, but they had no reason to touch it.
They must have been hiding another book. I pressed off the wall and speed-walked over, the chunky heel of my boots thumping down the empty hallway.
They turned and shooed each other away as I got closer.
“What’s… going on?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just hanging out.” He hid something under his shirt while they snickered and turned away.
“Mrs. Willows knows you’re hiding books.”
The redhead turned back, “Yeah,” He flung his arm up, “because you told on us, like a brat.”
“Yeah,” The other boy said, “why do you always have to go around snooping? It’s stupid. That’s why no one likes you. Because you tell on everyone.”
My skin grew hot. “I didn’t tell on you.”
“Well don’t, or we’ll tell everyone to stay away from you because you’re gonna tell on them for everything.” The redhead said with venom in his words.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to tell on people, but I couldn’t help it if they were doing stupid things. But I also didn’t want to make it harder on myself to make friends.
I sighed and stared at the tiny scuffs on my boots. “Tell me where the books are and I won’t tell her it was you,” I mumbled.
“Yeah right,” he laughed. “And I’m keeping this one,” he held up the book for me to see, then hooked it under his arm. “Good luck finding the rest.” They laughed.
I almost started crying when Mrs. Willows stormed around the corner.
“Hi, Kurt. Jeff.” She smiled and nodded once, then saw the book under his arm. “What’s that? Were you boys hiding books?”
They must have done something that gave it away because she said, “What were you boys thinking?” and crossed her arms.
“We’re sorry.” They said at the same time.
“No, I asked what you were thinking.”
The short one grunted and gave me an ugly look past Mrs. Willows. Then he looked back at her. “These school books are boring and we didn’t want to be forced to read another one. So we thought we’d hide them.”
“Well, when class is over, you two will stay after school and bring the rest—and the trolley—back to me. You won’t leave until you’ve gathered them all. And I’m calling your parents because you and I both know you won’t be handing them a letter.” She snatched the book from under his arm and stood tall as she walked back to the library, her flats silent.
“Aw, come on!” The redhead’s arms flopped to his sides, and he rolled his eyes at me like it was all my fault.
I’d never have friends after this. I could easily be one of those people from Detective Penny’s book that left the world forgotten. A chill ran up my spine.
Mrs. Willows winked at me as she passed, and the boys trudged back to class.
The bell rang, and I walked toward class, watching the small stripes of the floor pattern. No one liked the same stuff as me. They found it weird and annoying. Could I drop all the detective stuff? Then what would I do? Now I just wanted my mom.
A Phone Call
“So, she said no?” Mom asked as she took another bite of bean chili mac.
“No, she doesn’t know if she can,” I adjusted in my seat at the bar counter and picked at my plate. The warm autumn sunset shone golds and reds on the linoleum floor.
“Well, there’s still hope, then.”
I nodded and took a bite. The cheese was so creamy, and the beans were soft. Between bites, I traced the faint scratches in the counter.
“Honey, you’re not gonna mope around all day, are you?”
My mouth felt dry. “It’s not just that.”
Mom quirked an eyebrow, waiting.
I took a deep breath and told her about how I went looking for the books for Mrs. Willows and what the boys said.
Mom was speechless at first, then she set her spoon in the bowl. “Come here.” The stool screeched across the floor as Mom stood and walked around the counter. She squeezed me close and said, “Don’t ever change who you are for them, okay? If you like doing these things, the right people will find you. People who like the same things. I know it doesn’t seem that way, but it will happen. I’m so sorry that happened to you. People can be so mean, especially kids, since they don’t seem to have a filter.”
I cried in her arms while she held me until it was all cried out. What if she was wrong, or what if they never found me?
I finally pulled away to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Mom’s eyes were red, too.
We sat back in our seats and tried to have a normal conversation before bed.
***
Snuggled up in my bed finishing homework, I thought I heard Mom talking. She must have been on the phone. I worked until I heard my name. Then it seemed I turned on my ears.
“I’m just so worried about her. She’s been moping around watching the other kids play out the window and I just wish she had some friends to play with… She’s trying to get a little book club going at school, but the librarian doesn’t think it’s gonna happen…” she scoffed. “I don’t know. They don’t really care about stuff like that. You know how it is. They can’t make money off it, so they’re not gonna bother.”
I didn’t know if that was true or if Mom was just mad right now. She must have been talking to Uncle Cliff.
“If she doesn’t make friends soon, I might have to get her into some kind of after school activity.”
My stomach churned, and my palms sweat.
“She’s bound to make friends if she’s around more people. I just hate to take away her reading time. But if she finds friends who also like to read her books, then it’s a win-win.”
I could not go around selling cookies or something. A shiver ran up my spine. Talking to people wasn’t really my favorite thing. Especially not selling to people. I felt like I had to do something now, but I couldn’t let her know I was listening.
I could pretend everything was okay. I would read and be happy like she was. How’d she do it, anyway? She loved being alone. Tomorrow I would be like her. I had to.
***
When I woke up Saturday morning, Mom was already dressed and ready to go. She said we were taking a girls’ day out to the mall, but I knew it was because she felt bad about me being lonely.
We walked around some clothes stores and grabbed lunch in the food court. Mom didn’t even look at me when she brought up the idea of after-school activities. I told her I was probably just having a bad day, but she didn’t buy it.
When we finished eating, we walked to the game store. It smelled so good there, like fresh cardboard and plastic. I ran around looking at all the games and toys, passing through crowds of kids running and parents trying to keep up with them.
One game caught my eye. It had a few kids playing with words. I loved word games!
Unlock the Secrets of the Beyond with the Mystical Ouija Board!
“Oh, what about this one?” I flipped it over. “I wonder how you play?”
Mom came over and read the back with me.
Gather ’round the board and let your fingers guide you toward revelations you never thought possible.
My eyes widened. Maybe it could tell me where to find friends. Maybe I could learn if I would ever be a real detective. My heart raced at the possibilities.
“Oh no, we’re not getting that.” Mom shook her head.
“Why?” I whined. It wasn’t often I did that, but I really wanted it.
Mom whispered, and pointed at the words, “Engage in captivating conversations as you communicate with spirits, receiving answers to your most burning questions. That’s… evil stuff. You’re not supposed to mess with spirits.”
“Then why are they here?” I whispered back. “They have answers. They could help.”
“No, honey.” She took the box from my hand and set it back on the shelf. “They lie. They… I don’t know why they’re here, but they’re not good.”
They couldn’t all be bad. Mom was… generalizing, right? But how was I going to get it? I didn’t have any birthday money left, and what if she found it in my room? She’d go bananas, absolutely bananas.
I stood in a trance for a second, imagining her pacing the house, freaking out about how her daughter was now a witch, and scared to death that ghosts were going to take over the house and eventually rule the world because I’d summoned something from the depths. Chuckling, I snapped out of it. I couldn’t buy it, but maybe I could make one. It was just a board with words. That should be easy.
And I wasn’t planning on summoning anything. I just wanted to ask a few questions.
Mom picked up another word game, Scrabble, and we took it home. I felt like she was using it as an incentive for me to find friends to play it with.
***
“Wanna play?” Mom asked when we got home, but I was already skipping the stairs to my room.
“Um, I think I’m gonna read for a bit.”
“Well, okay, maybe later, then.” She set it on the counter and I went to my room. Usually, I would have loved a word game with Mom, but I couldn’t get the spirit thing out of my head.
How could I do it? I opened my journal. I could list everything across the two pages.
I sat on the floor in front of my bed. The room was only lit by my bedside lamp, and I drew the board as I remembered it into my notebook.
I grabbed a penny to use as the planchette thing, whatever that meant. I asked a few questions and quickly became bored, staring at the motionless penny. Why wasn’t it working? I sighed and told any spirits that I would check at school tomorrow to see if anyone stood out as a friend.
Someone giggled from my closet, and I froze. The room was so quiet I thought I heard a buzzing sound coming from my lamp. The light faded, then returned to normal. As still as I could be, I glanced around the room.
Silence.
I stared at my closet. Creeping up, I scuffed my feet against the hardwood floor. I tiptoed over, gently placing my hand against the door. I peeked inside, every muscle tense, expecting to actually see a ghost peering through the clothes.
My eyes strained to see into the dark. I slowly reached my hand in, pressing air and brushing against a shirt. Could you feel a ghost? My eyes finally adjusted.
Nothing. Just clothes.
My shoulders dropped, but I didn’t know if it was relief or disappointment. I pursed my lips and swallowed. “Thank you for listening,” I whispered into the dark and tucked myself in bed.
The next day, I checked the library for anyone who might be in the mystery section. I didn’t know how the spirits could help, but I figured I’d better check the library, anyway. Sitting on a bench near the window, a girl sat with a white top, overalls, and fluffy buns over her ears, reading The Westing Game.
Just a Game
I grabbed my penny from the dresser, feeling a little weird about it today, and flipped to the journal spread.
I cleared my throat. “So… I saw someone reading The Westing Game today.” The spirits would know I was talking to them, right? “Was that a sign?”
A tinkling giggle echoed through the room. I pressed off the floor and pulled back my beige curtain. I squinted as a golden-orange light pierced my eyes. Kids played ball and rode bikes outside, so that must have been the sound. But it was late last night when I’d heard it. I doubted anyone was playing outside then.
I padded back to my journal and pressed my finger to the penny. A jolt of cold ran through me and I pulled back. Reaching for it again, I rubbed it between my finger and thumb. It felt like ice melting.
I let it fall to the page. “Can you help me?”
The penny slid across, straight to “Yes.” Maybe it had to do with the icy feel, or maybe it was tilted. I set the journal on the floor, eying the edges to make sure it was flat.
“What should I do?”
The penny slid from letter to letter and I could barely remember what the last one was as it moved.
W-A-I-T
Another giggle echoed from my closet.
I leaned back on my hands. “Hello —”
Before I could finish, the penny flung to YES.
A chill ran up my spine, and a white mist seeped through the cracks beneath my closet and floated over my bed.
“W-What’s your name?”
The penny flew across the pages.
M-O-R-R-I-G-A-N
I squashed myself into a ball against my bed.
“How old are you?”
1-0
“You’re my age,” I said, light in my stomach. Maybe I couldn’t make real friends, but I could make friends with a ghost.
My window creaked and a chill wind rustled the Sugar Maple leaves across the street. One bright red leaf fluttered and twisted, gliding straight through my window and landing on my bed. I reached up and grabbed the stem. Spinning it in my hand, I smiled. Did she give this to me?
I glanced around the room, not knowing what else to say. Then, a girl with fuzzy blonde hair flickered as she sat across from me. I gasped and jumped back slightly.
She stared at me, unblinking, as the penny shook, then moved to spell F-R-I-E-N-D.
If I had a friend, Mom wouldn’t have to worry about me and put me in some after-school thing. I sighed in relief.
H-E-L-P
“You want to help me?”
M-E
“You need help?” With what, I wondered. “Sure. We can help each other.”
A smile crept across the face of the spirit. Her pale purple dress billowed with her hair.
“What do you need?” I asked.
The girl winked out, and Mom’s footsteps clomped upstairs.
I slammed my journal shut and shoved it under my pillow as I plopped onto my bed. As Mom knocked on the door, I grabbed one of my Detective Penny books from my shelf and opened it to a random page.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Mom leaned on the frame. “Hey.” She looked around the room suspiciously. “Want fettuccine Alfredo for dinner?”
“Yeah, sounds good!” I closed my book and put it back on the shelf.
Mom’s brows pulled together. “I thought you read that one already.”
“Uh. I did. It’s a good one.” I smiled.
I could make dinner with Mom tonight, let her know everything was A-OK. Then later, I could see what the spirit needed.
Maybe closure? I’d heard that before, that they may have something they need to do before they could move on. A rush ran through me. I was going to help a spirit!
***
After dinner, I clomped back up to my room. She must have been waiting on me. How long was she waiting for someone to contact her?
I sat next to the bed, slid my journal out from under the pillow, then used my nail to flick the penny into my hand.
“I’m back!” I whispered. “How can I help?”
The girl materialized across from me again, and my blood ran cold. There was a shift in the air, sending goosebumps up my arms.
The penny slid but kept getting caught in the journal crease. It flung from my hand and clanked across the wood floor. I cringed at the clacking sounds, then turned back to her.
She cocked her head and made choppy movements toward me, then bent to whisper. My skin and muscles tightened as I waited, but nothing came. An icy breeze froze half my face, then I heard a faint whisper, “Memory.”
I tried to speak, but nothing came out, so I cleared my throat. “You… lost your memory?” I stammered and leaned back to face her as she loomed over me.
Her ethereal form fuzzed and flickered like a corrupt VHS. She nodded.
“How can I help?” I shuddered as a chill ran up my spine and I looked away.
She slowly bent back to my ear, and I tensed up again, anticipating the icy whisper.
“Find… me.”