The Haunting of Birchwood Manor

Hi people! This is my first story! Most of you might know me from all poetry. Enjoy.

The Haunting of Birchwood Manor 

By Lily Green

“What do you want from me?”

Ainsley White had always tried to ignore them. But she wasn’t sure she could anymore. 

“Play?”

“No,” she said shakily. “No play.” She got to her feet and stared at herself in the mirror, willing away the angry ghost. She described herself as she often did in her head, none of the words changing since she first imagined herself in someone else’s eyes. She was a short girl, with long black hair in braids, dyed white at the tips. She had eyes that fluctuated between blue and bluegreen, with dark double lashes that made it look like she was always wearing mascara. Her eyebrows were absolutely disgusting and looked like a man's. She had a smallish nose and cheeks that were constantly flushed. Her lips were pinkish and pretty darn big. Her small, pierced ears were never covered by her hair, although she wished they were. She was not on the thin side at all so her mom made her wear a corset. Unless she was wearing the obnoxious tights, her thighs became a single being if she stood still. Even on the rare occasion she was allowed to, she never wore midriff-baring tops because she spilled all over herself when she did. She had man shoulders as well as a freaking forest growing on her arms, because her mom said she was going to get "laser hair removal" at 16. She had light hair on her legs, so it wasn't very noticeable at all, which she was glad about. She had insanely huge feet and couldn't shoe-shop at Macy's anymore. She was a very quiet girl, unless you crossed her. Then it was a good idea to hide inside your backpack. She was a smart girl who loved to read, write, and do math. She loved to run, even if she wasn't very fast, and also loved volleyball. She had a big fat temper so it wasn't a good idea to get her mad, and she cried very easily. Even though she begged and pleaded every year on her birthday, she had never ridden an elephant, but would like to. However, she had ridden a camel and a horse. She was not very athletic but nevertheless loved to play sports at Remington’s School for Girls. She spoke Spanish, Latin, Mandarin and English and was learning French, Ukranian and Russian. She was an avid animal lover and tried to smuggle geckos back from Mexico multiple times. And one last thing: Ainsley White could see ghosts.

“Play!”

The ghost was angry now. Not good, not good, not good. The thirteen-year-old girl ran as fast as she could down the stairs, almost running over her butler, Milford. He grumpily straightened his tie and frowned at the sprinting girl.

She ran through the maze-like corridors, trying to get to the hedge maze. She could feel the chill of the ghost’s being on her neck. Not good, not good, not good.

She darted into and through the hedges, thinking of nothing but losing the ghost. She knew the pattern by heart, and emerged into the center in record time.

“Ainsley,” came an angry voice. She looked up to see her worst nightmare.

No, not a ghost. Her mom. Ainsley took a minute to check over herself. Dumb braids? Check. Lacy pink doll dress? Check. 

“Your socks, Ainsley.” She looked down to see her long white stockings bunched down at her ankles. Aisnley tried to discreetly pull up the offending socks. She could hear the wailing of the ghost.

She tried to remember what the ghost looked like. Mangled and bloodied, yes, but it was definitely a girl. Through the girl’s stringy, matted hair Ainsley could see eyes. Sparkling, beautiful brown eyes. There was a broken, bleeding nose, and the girl didn’t have lips, just a big smile drawn on with lipstick. She wore a ratty dress and no shoes, so her twisted, broken feet were on full display. But as the vengeful ghost advanced on her now, its warm brown eyes turned black as coal.

Suddenly Ainsley felt the need to help the ghost. Inside, she knew it was a ghostly trick, and many ghosts had tried it before to no avail. But Ainsley couldn’t help herself. She extended a hand to it, and the timid girl took it in hers. It was cold as ice, but as long as Ainsley could help her…

The ghost grinned, and Ainsley knew she’d been fooled. The angry ghost pulled her away, through the hedges. “Ainsley!” cried her mom. She cringed: she was going to get a whooping later.

The ghost led her to a ransackle shack. Maintenance shed, she thought. It was rotting, dark and cold and smelled like mildew. Ainsley opened her eyes to see hundreds, if not thousands of ghosts milling around the tiny area. She shivered, and closed her eyes so they wouldn’t freeze over.

The ghosts drew closer. Ainsley knew they were going to feed. She shuddered as the gray figures closed in. Usually she could defeat them, but there were so many, and it was so cold. The ghosts knew she thought she could kill them, and they laughed. It was a piercing sound. Gut wrenching growling, raspy high voices… they were laughing at her. 

Ainsley knew she had to do something. If she didn’t, they would feed. They had only fed on her soul once, and it wasn’t a fun experience. She remembered it now- the coldness, the fear. She had become a shell of herself, even travelled the Monochrome for a while as doctors frantically tried to wake her up. She had seen things, things she could never unsee. She didn’t want it to happen again.

The original ghost girl came closer than the rest, and Ainsley could feel the temperature drop even more. She knew it was going to feed on her. Not the army of coal-eyes, but specifically that girl, that girl who had something against her...