A/N: My friend and I are writing a webseries, but to attract readers I'm placing the stories on some writing sites like this one. To read all the available stories, find out about updates, and other cool things, head on over to writingworld.wix.com/lostchronicles and poke around. Now please go ahead and read the first story. This one was written by my friend, Vennice Floran.

I fiddled with the strap of my leather messenger bag as I stared out the window. Trees rushed by as the bus bumped along the old dirt road. I tilted my head, letting the sun stream through the window and touch my face.

"So anyways, my cousin said the pool is definitely out of the question until he can get it fixed," Avalon rambled on.

Avalon Cook, my best friend, was almost my complete opposite. She was one to draw attention with wavy auburn hair usually held in a low, messy bun, and green eyes always full of energy. By contrast my thick, curly black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, a handful of strands framing my face, emphasizing pale skin that could almost rival Snow White and soft brown eyes.

We seemed like complete opposites. She liked plain tee-shirts, jean capris, flip flops, and her ancient oversized, faded olive green jacket with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, which was catching the afternoon sunlight. My style was unique with two-toned, old fashioned lavender shirts matched with silver-purple paints, tall brown boots, and a pair of fingerless black gloves.

Avalon was the bold and outgoing one, always sticking her nose in every mystery she could get her hands on. I usually hung back and took down what I saw in my sketchbook, which didn't always fit with my attention drawing appearance. I would follow her to the end of the world, as she would me, and I loved the adventure she brought. I just wasn't big on talking to other people.

In short, the only similarities seen between us from a glance would be our shared age of sixteen, and the dreary town we had lived in forever.

A stranger would never guess that we had been as thick as thieves for as long as either of us could remember. We might as well have been sisters, a part of each other's family, for all the time we spent at each other's houses.

And now we were off to spend the summer to her cousin's old house in Misty Crossing. It wasn't our first shared vacation, but it was our first vacation alone. I still couldn't believe our parents had agreed to it.

"Natasha," Avalon said, waving her hand in my face. From the tone of her voice, it wasn't the first time she had said my name.

"Yeah?" I turned to her.

"Did you hear a single word I said?"

"The pool has cracks in the bottom from weak building materials, so we can't use it," I responded.

"And after that?" She raised her eyebrows, eyes fixed on mine.

"You said my name?" I guessed with a weak smile. She gave a sigh. "Alright, I zoned out."

"I was trying to tell you that we're almost there. Grab your suitcase."

Another quick glance out the window showed the trees disappearing for a sleepy old town. With its wooden and stone buildings and cobblestone roads, it looked almost pulled from another time.

I grabbed my suitcase, purple like most of my stuff, as Avalon grabbed hers.

The bus rolled to a stop and Avalon leapt up, restless from sitting in the bus for five hours. I, on the other hand, was not nearly as graceful, tripping over my suitcase and nearly landing flat on my face.

I hurried to catch up to her, dragging my suitcase behind me, and struggling to get it off the bus.

As soon as I was off, the doors closed behind me and the bus moved along, the driver now free of her only passengers.

I blew a stray hair out of my face and glared at it as it drifted back, before tucking it behind my ear.

"Isn't this place so cool?" Avalon asked, doing a three-sixty to take it all in.

"Yeah, your cousin was right. This is going to be a great summer." I readjusted the grip on my suitcase. "So, where to?"

"Uh, this way." She started off down the road

"You don't have a clue, do you?" I sighed, smiling a little.

"I have a map," She stated, holding her head high.

"It's buried in your suitcase somewhere, isn't it?"

"I know where we're going."

I laughed, bumping my shoulder against hers.

"We'll get there eventually."

-----

It turned out 'eventually' was two hours and four wrong turns later until Avalon started recognizing street signs from the map.

When we finally got to her cousin's house, we stopped for a moment, taking in the sight.

The house was ancient, but sturdy, the walls made of dark wooden planks. Dirty windows showed three floors and what looked like an attic. A chimney peaked out from the back, and a veranda wrapped around the front of the house.

Avalon grinned and rushed up to the house, dragging her suitcase along and leaving me to follow. I chased after her, struggling up the stairs and tripping over my suitcase. Avalon made it look so easy.

The front door opened into a long hallway with a few doors leading off and a spiral staircase at the end. A handful of wall sconces lit it, along with a bit of sunlight. A small table, coat rack, and umbrella holder huddled near the door. The inside of the house had walls made of the same heavy wood, giving it the feel of a cabin.

"Avalon?" I called. My friend had disappeared from sight.

"Yeah?" I jumped as she popped her head out from the room just to my left. "Geez, jumpy much? It's not like this place is haunted. I'm sure my cousin would have mentioned that."

"Well, he didn't mention the layer of dust on everything." I swiped my finger along the top of the table, wiping a soft grey film on to my fingertip. I quickly wiped it off on my pants.

"He hasn't been up here in a while," she said defensively as she slipped off into the room again.

"What did you find?" I left my suitcase in the hall and followed her.

"Jackpot." She spread her arms, turning around.

"Kitchen?" I laughed. "That didn't take you long."

"A girl's gotta eat."

Avalon started opening cupboards, checking inventory, while I wandered out to explore the rest of the house.

I found a living room with an old television and couch, a study with some bookshelves and an antique desk, a dining room with a large table surrounded by six chairs, and a simple bathroom with a sink, mirror, and toilet. Darker spots on the walls held the shapes of frames that once hung there. So there were no creepy portraits, at least on the first floor.

Avalon appeared at the doorway to the dining room as I left, making me jump again.

"Geez, get a bell or something," I told her.

"Then how would I sneak up on you?" She wiggled her eyebrows, making me laugh. "Next floor?"

I took my suitcase, which she had pushed down the hall, and started to drag it up the staircase, Avalon a few steps behind me.

The second floor had a game room with a pool table and foosball – score. There was a room empty save for a few bean-bag chairs, another study with overfilled red plush chairs and small, round chairs, and a room containing a bunch of cardboard boxes with old clothes and knickknacks. Boring. There was also a room with a washing machine and dryer, which would be useful against walking to the laundromat in town.

Up one more floor; we found a pair of bedrooms, each with a dresser, bed, nightstand, and lamp. A bathroom sat between them.

On the other side of the hall was a single, large bedroom with two beds, separated by a nightstand with a lamp on it. A large window had old gray curtains drawn across it. A wardrobe and dresser sat off to the right, while a vanity sat to the left. All the furniture was a dark wood.

I noticed a door to the side, next to the vanity, and headed for it, leaving my suitcase in the middle of the room. The door led to a small bathroom, which was well lit and sported a shower in a tub, a sink, a toilet, and a mirror.

"We've got an on suite," I called to Avalon.

"Sweet." I heard a thunk and sqee-sqeee, and guessed she had jumped onto one of the beds.

I closed the door behind me as I went back into the bedroom, finding Avalon flopped down on her stomach on one of the beds.

"So what do we do first?"

"Well," I said, pulling off my messenger bag. "First we should unpack, and then grab something to eat."

"Sounds good. Faster we get that done, the more time we'll have to explore outside before it gets dark."

We divided the drawers between the two of us, and stuffed our clothes in before hanging up our coats and sweaters in the wardrobe, as well as throwing in our rarely-used-but-sometimes-handy running shoes.

I drew the curtains back from the window, gazing out at the forest. It seemed to stretch endlessly to the horizon.

I could just imagine all the animals and plants to sketch out there. As long as I didn't get lost.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I asked Avalon.

"Told you we were going to love it here. No parents, no school, just us and whatever we choose to do. And right now, I choose food. I'm starving. We've got canned soup downstairs."

She bolted out the door. I listened to her footsteps fade down the stairs. "Natasha, come on," I heard her call up.

I grabbed my messenger bag, checking to make sure my sketchbook and pencils were still nestled inside, and darted to the stairs.

I kept my hand off of the wooden banister along the stairwell, planning to look for some cleaning supplies later and get this place fixed up a bit.

By the time I got to the kitchen, Avalon was having a disagreement with a can of chicken noodle soup and a can opener. I dumped my bag on the back of a chair and crossed the room to take over with the can opener before Avalon hurt herself.

After I dumped the contents of the can into a pot Avalon had found, I started rummaging under the sink for cleaning supplies. I opened a pack of jay clothes and grabbed a bottle of surface cleaner before setting to work on cleaning the table

"So how many sketch books did you bring along?" Avalon asked, knowing my habit of taking down anything I saw on paper.

"I brought two."

"Only two?" She glanced at me, smirking.

"Well they're a hundred pages each, and they're hardback."

"And you already checked online to make sure you could buy more in town, didn't you?" she interrupted.

I stuck my tongue out at her back. "I'll take drawings over photographs any day," I told her.

"I know. I was the one who got you that five pack of sketchbooks for your birthday, remember?"

"I remember. There, table's clean. Did you find any bowls earlier?"

"Over the microwave."

I glanced around, eyes going from window to oven to counter to sink to more counter to microwave to double door freezer-fridge.

I opened the cupboard above the microwave and grabbed two bowls from the array of dishes, and closed it once more.

"Spoons?"

"Drawer to the left of the sink."

"There's no drawer to the left of the sink." I ditched the bowls on the table.

"The right?"

I pulled open the drawer, rifling through the assorted silverware to find a pair of spoons.

I dropped them on table as she brought the pot over, steam rising off of it, and poured the soup into the two bowls, dripping between them.

"So what's stocked in this place?" I asked, sitting down and slurping my soup.

"Mostly canned stuff, a box of crackers, some dried pasta. We'll have to buy bread and perishable stuff from town," Avalon replied.

"We'll have to head over there tomorrow then."

"So I'm thinking we go and check out the forest now."

"Can't we do that tomorrow, without the risk of being out there in the dark?" I slumped in my seat, already knowing I wasn't getting out of it. Once Avalon decided something, it was pretty hard to convince her otherwise.

"I've got a flashlight upstairs with fresh batteries. We'll be fine."

"Okay – but you're not wandering off on me and leaving me on my own to find my way back."

"Deal."

We finished our dinner and cleaned up. I put away the dishes while Avalon went hunting for her flashlight. I refused to leave without it.

With my bag strung over my shoulder, I followed her outside, locking the door behind us. Though I doubted anyone was likely to try and rob the place.

We walked across the open stretch of property behind the house before entering the forest. I fiddled with my bag, eyes darting around, taking in all the greens and browns. A robin flitted by, a flash of faded colours in the quiet forest.

"My cousin said he saw some deer last time he was here. Maybe we can see one," Avalon said.

We kept going for a good ten minutes, until we found a rock surrounded by bright, colourful flowers.

"Avalon, check it out," I called, dropping to my knees and pulling out my sketch book and pencils.

"I'm going to keep going for a bit. I think I hear a creek. I'll be right back."

"Avalon, wait – ugh." I shook my head as she disappeared further into the trees, blending in as if she belonged there.

I flipped over a few pages to a fresh sheet, and got to work outlining the rock, blocking off space for flowers and trees. I kept my eyes on my subject more than my page, as every art teacher I'd ever had had taught me. I cursed myself for not bringing my coloured pencils. Black and white would just have to do, unless I could find the spot later on in the summer.

I heard a soft, low hiss, and the leaves rustled behind me. I glanced over but saw nothing. It was probably just the wind or something. I always let my imagination get the best of me.

Another hiss sounded.

"Avalon, stop messing with me, it isn't funny," I called, still working on my sketch. I had the rock and the flowers roughed in, and I didn't want to mess up the angle.

"Avalon," a soft, echoing voice whispered behind me.

I went rigid, nearly dropping my book and pencil. I knew my best friend's voice, I knew just about every sound she could make. That was not one of them.

I took a breath, trying to think and listen to something other than my rapidly beating heart. Swallowing, I forced myself to turn around.

My eyes darted around the area, but I didn't see anyone or anything.

"Avalon," I yelled, deserting my drawing and taking off in the direction she had gone, yelling her name again.

"Natasha? Over here," I heard her voice and altered course, nearly colliding with her as she ran in my direction. "Natasha, are you alright?"

"There was something. Something talked. It said your name – and it wasn't there – and we have to go." My words came out in gasps as I looked behind me, holding onto Avalon's jacket.

"Calm down. There's nothing out here but a couple of fish in the creek, and I don't think they can talk." She pulled her coat from my grip and slung her arm over my shoulder.

"We need to go back to the house. I know what I heard." I had almost caught my breath, adrenaline draining from my system and leaving me shaking.

"Did you finish your drawing?" she asked. I shook my head. "Then we're going back and you're finishing. You never stop a drawing before you finish."

"Avalon –"

"We're going back. There isn't anything there."

She led the way, keeping her arm slung over my shoulder. I clutched my book to my chest and gripped my pencil so tight my hand hurt, nails digging into my palm.

I held my breath when we got to the rock, waiting for the voice to return.

"Avalon, I don't need to draw this. I can find something else to draw in town." She crossed her arms.

"Avalon." I heard the voice and almost screamed, almost covered my ears to block it out. Instead I spun around, trying to spot the speaker.

"Avalon," I whimpered.

"Who are you? Come out where we can see you," Avalon shouted into the trees.

"Who are you?" the voice asked.

I spun in the direction it came from, and saw a shimmer in the air. My jaw dropped. I thought I had imagined it until I saw it again, closer. I reached out blindly, grabbing Avalon's shoulder and turning her to face where I was looking.

"Who are you?" the voice screeched, echoing through the trees, fading in a hiss.

A pale blue face appeared in front of mine, human with teeth bared. I screamed.

"Go go go!" Avalon yelled, grabbing the strap of my bag and dragging me along the way we'd entered.

I stumbled, trying to keep up with her. The hissing still sounded behind us. It didn't sound like we left it as we ran.

Avalon let go of me, glancing back constantly to make sure I was there. I stayed only a few steps behind her, not daring to fall back any further or look behind to see if the whatever was still there.

We stumbled from the forest, out of breath and energy. I turned around, catching sight of a shimmer, a tint of blue. A soft hiss carried on the wind.

"What – was that?" Avalon gasped.

"It was a ghost. There is a freaking ghost in the forest! You took me into a haunted forest! I told you there was something there and I told you we should have left!"

She stared off into the forest, frowning slightly. I knew exactly what she was thinking.

"No, no, no, no, no. And in case it wasn't clear, no." I glared at her, hoping she wouldn't say what I thought she was going to say.

"Natasha, tomorrow we're hitting up the library, and then, we're tracking down a ghost."

I groaned and followed her back to the house.

-----

Two hours later, after showers and changing into our pajamas, we crawled into our beds. The lamp was on, casting shadows around the room, and I had dug out some candles from under the bathroom sink and lit them on the dresser and vanity for extra light.

"I haven't seen it again," Avalon claimed. "Maybe it stayed in the forest."

"She," I corrected in a whisper.

"What?"

"The ghost is a she. I saw her face and I heard her voice. The ghost is a she, and she wasn't happy we were there."

"Well, she's going to have to put up with it until we can figure out who she is and what she's doing there."

"Avalon, can't we just leave it? I don't want to end up like one of those people in horror movies who should have just left things alone."

"Well, I'm going to figure it out." I heard her roll over in her bed. "Hey, did you ever check out the attic?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the entrance is right there." She pointed upwards, right by the door. Looking closely, I noticed the square outline of a trap door with a small handle.

Avalon shoved her covers aside and climbed out of bed.

"Avalon," I hissed. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just checking it out." She grabbed her flash light and went underneath the trap door. Standing on her toes, she still couldn't reach it. It took a few jumps until she managed to snag the handle, pulling open the trap door.

She stepped out of the way as the door swung back and forth and a ladder slid down, hitting the floor with a thud.

She grinned and flicked her flashlight on before climbing up the ladder. I threw my covers off and jumped out of bed as she disappeared into the dark hole at the top of the ladder, the light from her flashlight vanishing as well.

After muttering about how going into dark, creepy places in an old house is exactly how the people in movies end up with an axe in their head, I went over to the ladder.

I was considering climbing up and following Avalon – people in pairs always lasted longer in the movies – when I heard scuffling and saw her light reappear. Seconds later she was climbing back down the ladder.

"There wasn't anything up there except this old book," she told me, hopping off of the last rung. She passed me the book and her flashlight before she shoved the ladder back up. It took her a few attempts to get the trap door to latch again.

Standing by the lamp we looked at the book. It was the typical pocketbook size, as thick as a single finger, and bound in old leather that was stiff to the touch. The spine creaked and cracked as we opened it, as if fresh off a bookstore shelf.

On the first page an ink sketch of a vague face and body took up most of the space. Words were written in messy handwriting beneath it. Fernwood.

"Isn't that the name of the forest?" Avalon asked, getting her map from the dresser. "Yeah, here it is. Fernwood Forest, that's where we saw the ghost."

I flipped to the next page, which was filled with writing. Some of the ink was smudged or too messy to read, but I managed to get most of it.

"Vengeful? Violent? How does a ghost get violent? Wait, never mind. I don't want to know that."

"She's been there for hundreds of years, according to this." Avalon's voice held excitement and wonder. Mine had held fear.

"It says she only appears from just before sunset to right after sunrise. You just had to drag me into the forest when she was going to appear."

The next page held a map, roughly sketched, but clearly of the forest. A spot was circled multiple times, with the words her rock scrawled next to it. In the corner was a rough, blocked in sketch of the same rock and flowers I had tried to draw.

I flipped the page once more and dropped the book, stepping back. It landed open, a snarling face drawn in blue ink instead of black like the rest of the book.

The sketch took up both pages and showed a face twisted with anger and rage. The same face I had seen in the forest.

"That's her. That's the ghost," I told Avalon as she picked up the book.

"Someone ticked her off," she muttered.

"We did."

"No, a ghost wouldn't have this much rage at us just passing through."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold, despite the warm air. "Now turn the page. I don't want to see her face anymore."

"Alright, alright."

She flipped through the pages, skimming the text while I looked at the drawings scattered throughout.

Most of them were of the ghost or her rock. A couple depicted her in a full length, pale and plain, tattered dress, with bare feet and long, loose hair. Her face was almost always enraged, hissing and snarling, but in some she looked almost heartbroken.

The book mostly told of where and when she had appeared, what she had done or said. Apparently she mostly repeated things, hissed, or screeched.

There was nothing on why she was there, or who she used to be.

Finally, when it was past midnight, we decided to go to bed. Avalon went under her covers, silhouetted as she used her flashlight to go over every detail of the book.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and listened to the soft crinkle of pages. Each time I closed my eyes the ghost's face flashed in front of me, and I snapped my eyes open.

It was going to be a long night.

------

I must have fallen asleep at some point, because Avalon was suddenly shaking me awake.

"Come on, we're making a trip into town," she told me. "Natasha . . . Nat, don't make me drag you out of bed."

"Fine," I grumbled, peeling my eyes open.

I stretched before shoving the covers off and getting ready. By the time I got down to the kitchen I could smell steak and vegetables, making my stomach grumble. Since we didn't have steak and vegetables, I figured Avalon was making soup.

I ditched my bag on a chair like the day before then went about grabbing the bowls and spoons.

"Managed to get the better of the can opener today?" I asked Avalon.

"This one had a pull tab on the top. No evil can opener required," she responded, sticking her tongue out at the drawer where the opener was stored.

"So, soup for breakfast?"

"If you can eat pancakes for dinner, you can eat soup for breakfast. Besides, unless you want crackers or pasta, this is all we got."

"Fair enough," I agreed as she flicked the stove off. "So, plan of attack, since you're not going to let this go?"

"Head to the library and see what they have on dead girls in the forest. Obituaries, folklore, whatever we can find about her and getting rid of ghosts. Get through all that, and then go shopping the stores for flashlights, batteries, and food."

"I'm fine with reading up on her, but do we really have to go look for her again? She doesn't like us."

"She doesn't like anyone, she's a ghost," Avalon said pointedly. "And if you're so scared, you can hang out back here."

"Stay in an old, spooky house alone, and become the star of my own horror film? No thanks. We stand a better chance at making it into the sequel if we stick together."

"Glad to know you're on board." Avalon smiled before going back to her soup.

"Whatever. But if we get killed, it is so your fault."

"Noted."

-----

The walk to the library didn't take nearly as long as finding the house had the day before. Mainly because I insisted on using the map.

Walking into the library, a tall, old, sleepy looking building – like everything else in town – we were met with silence. The door didn't creak, and closed with barely a whisper. There wasn't anyone sitting at the few tables scattered around nor were there any patrons wandering between the tall shelves crammed with books.

A front desk sat off to the side with a computer, a stack of books, and a bell like they had in hotels.

I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and followed Avalon to the front desk. She dinged the bell a few times quickly and we both leapt back as a loud bang sounded from under the desk, followed by a soft moan.

A moment later, a girl stood up, rubbing her head and adjusting her glasses. She couldn't have been more than a few years older than us, with messy brown hair that had probably looked better before she hit her head.

"Hey, sorry, I was trying to fix a loose wire on the computer." She smacked the monitor, which remained blank. "Anyways, what can I help you with?"

"We're looking for books on ghosts," Avalon explained.

"Well, we have a few over in the sci-fi section, some in the horror section, and some in the myths and folklore section," the librarian listed off, staring at the ceiling. "Oh, and you could always check out the museum."

"The museum?" I asked.

"Yeah, Mr. Freders gives ghost tours over there all the time. It's a pretty cool place to check out when you're on vacation," she told us.

"How did you know we were on vacation?" Avalon asked.

"It's a pretty small town," she replied. "Everyone knows everyone here. It's not hard to spot someone passing through."

"Oh. So, where would we find the myths and folklore?" Avalon asked.

"Ah, over there in the corner," the librarian told us, pointing to the far corner. "Looking for anyone in particular?"

"We wanted to learn about the ghost in Fernwood."

"Ah, the blue girl, already getting into the local legends." The librarian smiled.

"So, you know about her?" Avalon asked.

"Yeah, most people 'round here have heard the stories, the blue girl yelling and hissing if you wander around the forest at night. She hasn't actually hurt anyone, and the last sighting was a few years ago."

"Lucky us," I muttered.

"Any reason why she hasn't shown?" Avalon asked, either not hearing me or ignoring me.

"No one knows. There was a team of ghost hunters here a year back, but they couldn't track her down, called the whole thing a hoax. I've never seen her, and I've been to the forest a few times at night, so don't get your hopes up."

"Alright, thanks for your help," Avalon said, heading off into the stacks. I thanked the librarian as well, before following my friend.

There was a table and a few chairs huddled in a space in the corner, and I dropped my bag there while Avalon wandered the stacks, pulling out anything that mentioned ghosts.

She dropped them on the table with a loud thud that made me jump, even though I knew it was coming. She shoved a few books my way and I flipped one of them open, skimming the pages for anything relating to a blue ghost.

Three hours of reading endless ghost facts and sketching the tall bookshelves later, Avalon finally closed her last book with a sigh.

"Find anything?" I asked, my eyes still on my page as I finished my drawing.

"Other than what we already knew from the notebook and a dozen different methods on getting rid of ghosts, nothing." She slouched back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I couldn't find anything about her other than in locally written books."

"Well, we know that she has to have been someone local, and that she probably died in a horrible way," I reminded her. "The reports go back about a century, and for her spirit to last that long in this kind of torment . . ." I trailed off, actually pitying the ghost who had chased us. It wasn't her fault she had died. Probably.

That didn't mean I wanted to go hang out with her any time soon.

"But how did she die? Why is she so ticked all the time?"

"I have no clue. Wait, what if we're looking in the wrong section?" I wondered.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we know she's been around for about a hundred years, what if we check the local history books, find out when something went horribly, terribly wrong?" I suggested.

"We passed by a bunch of them on the way over here." Avalon was already on her feet, and heading down the aisle, scanning the books. I shoved my book and pencil into my bag and I ran after her.

By the time I caught up, Avalon was taking books off the shelf to scan for dates, before putting them back.

I followed along, checking the shelf underneath.

We had almost made it to the end of the shelf when I stopped on a book, Misty Crossing Raider Attack of 1902.

"Here, a hundred years ago, more or less." Avalon darted over to my side, looking at the book over my shoulder.

"There was an attack on the town?"

"Oh my gosh," I breathed, flipping the page. "All the deaths . . ." An entire page was dedicated to names, each with a date of birth and death. "How could that happen?" I flipped the page again.

"'In the middle of the night, twenty five bandits came from the forest and attacked the town,'" Avalon read aloud. "'They struck each house, stealing all valuables and attacking the inhabitants before setting the house on fire. They then disappeared in the chaos.' The town must've been tiny then."

"That's horrible."

"Well, at least we know how she died."

"But why her? The bandits killed so many people, why was she the only stuck as a ghost?"

"Dunno, but I intend to find out."

"Avalon, no."

"We're going back tonight. Besides, the librarian said she hasn't hurt anyone, we'll be fine."

"She also said the ghost hadn't appeared in years. She broke one pattern already. I think it's a bad idea."

"Alright, then I'll go by myself, which leaves me alone in the ghost's path, and leaves you alone in a creepy old house, which you won't do. So we're going." She shoved the book back onto the shelf and strode off.

Passing by the front desk, Avalon called out a thanks and good bye to the librarian, and I called out a sorry as she hit her head on the desk again. Must have been a really messed up wire.

I argued with Avalon as we hit up the grocery store and for most of the way back to the house, but she didn't waver from her plan to go into the forest as soon as the sun started setting.

We were so busy arguing, we clearly didn't pay enough attention to our surroundings as Avalon unlocked the door.

"Good afternoon girls," a voice called.

We spun around, spotting an old lady with very large garden shears walking towards us.

"Avalon," I whispered, grabbing her arm.

"Mrs McKraken?" Avalon called.

"That's me," the old lady replied. "You two must be Avalon and Natasha. Mr Cook called me to say you were coming up for the summer." She stopped in front of us. "Nice to meet you."

"She's the grounds keeper," Avalon told me.

"Been working here for many years. Your cousin is a very nice boy," She told me.

"I'm Avalon, she's Natasha," Avalon corrected.

"Oh, my mistake. Well, I've got to get back to that old lilac bush. It's getting a bit out of control." With a nod, she turned and made her way towards a purple flowered bush at the edge of the lawn. I let out a breath.

"I thought she was some nut coming to kill us," I confessed as we went inside.

"You're scared of a little old lady?" Avalon started laughed.

"You didn't tell me there was a groundskeeper."

"I forgot." She kept laughing.

"You're a horrible friend. I'm going to tell your cousin what a horrible friend you are."

"Uh-huh, you'll have to find somewhere you can actually get a bar on your cell for more than three seconds to talk to anyone. But hey, we get to connect with nature."

"Nature isn't a ghost," I muttered, heading to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

-----

That evening, as the sun set, we headed back into the forest, Avalon waving her flashlight in front of us while I held tight to my brand new electric lantern.

We managed to find the same path as before, to my dismay. Apparently we had made a definitive trail when we bolted, and we had the map in the notebook to guide us.

I stayed close to Avalon, ready to run if she did, though she insisted we were fine.

The sky turned a dark blue as the sun tipped past the horizon. I could just see the sunset colours through the trees as Avalon pointed out the rock.

I went to fiddle with the strap of my messenger bag out of habit, but came up empty. I had left it back at the house.

We stood there for a minute, the forest quiet. Not even the wind dared rustle the leaves. Avalon wasn't going to take that.

"Come out," she called, her voice breaking the silence. "We're here, and I know you are to. You won't leave, you've been here for a century."

"Avalon-" I grabbed her arm, wanting her to be quiet, but she talked over me.

"We know what happened, so just show yourself already."

"Know what happened," a voice hissed. I screamed, flinching when I saw a sparkle, followed by the blue image of a girl.

She stood in front of us, fully visible in the near dark. She looked just as she had in the notebook sketches. Unfortunately she looked like the angry ones.

"We know about the attack," Avalon told her, a little less confident than before.

"The attack, the attack, the attack..." The ghost muttered, gliding around us to the rock.

"We know about the raiders, and what happened."

"What happened," she hissed, glaring at us.

"We aren't leaving-"

"Leaving, leaving." She paused, tilting her head. "Avalon."

"You remember us?" I asked, my voice quiet and not nearly as confident as Avalon's.

"You remember. Remember, you," she replied. "Leaving."

"You're repeating us," I realized. "You have to rehear words before you can use them."

"Repeating," she hissed. "You, leaving, Avalon, leaving."

"You died in the attack," Avalon said. She paused for a moment, thinking. "I."

"I," The ghost repeated. "The attack. I, the attack."

"You attacked?" I whispered. "You were part of the attack on the town?"

"Attack on the town, attack on the town." She screamed, flying off into the forest.

"Oh no you don't," Avalon snapped, chasing after her.

I bolted in the same direction, following the bouncing light from Avalon's flashlight and the blue glow.

We ran and ran until it felt like my lungs were on fire and my legs about to give out. Finally I saw the ghost, hovering at the edge of the forest, screaming.

I stopped, covering my ears and trying to breathe. Avalon halted by the ghost.

The ghost kept screaming, looking like she was trying to flee the forest. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the screaming stopped.

I stood up, opening my eyes, breath coming easier.

"You're trying to attack the town," Avalon accused. The ghost turned and hissed at her.

"Attack on the town, attack on the town," she hissed.

"Yeah, we got that bit, you were screaming it loud enough," Avalon scoffed.

"I screaming, attack on the town, attack on the town, I no screaming it loud enough. I died in the attack." She glided back and forth along the edge of the trees. "I screaming attack on the town. No part. No leaving. No . . ."

She stopped and stared out towards the town, the landscape ghastly shades of grey.

"What is she talking about?" Avalon whispered to me. "I know she's a ghost, but she isn't making sense."

"I – I think I know what's she's saying," I said before turning to the ghost. "They, listen, did, not, save, them," I told her, giving her the words she needed.

The ghost spun around to face me and I stepped back.

"I did not save them. I screaming attack on the town. They did not listen." Her features softened as she turned away again, and I could swear I heard sadness in her voice as she said "I did not save them."

"You warned them about the bandit attack, but they didn't listen, and they died. You're like Cassandra from Greek mythology, doomed to know the future, but never to be believed," Avalon said.

"But how did you know?" I asked. The ghost looked at me for a moment before taking off back into the depths of the forest.

I was really not a runner.

Following Avalon, we ran back along the trail we had plowed, chasing the blue shimmers through the trees.

We arrived at the rock once again, and once again I was out of breath. Finally accepting the fact that Avalon was right, and that the ghost wasn't going to kill us or anything, I dropped down to the ground by the rock.

No sooner than I had sat down, the ghost started hissing and screaming at me. I leapt back to my feet and hid behind Avalon, who stood her ground.

"Bandit," the ghost hissed. "Bandit screaming."

"Here?" Avalon asked, looking around.

"Bandit here, I screaming attack on town, they did not listen. I attack bandit here." She paused, her scowl softening slightly. "I died here."

"No one would have found you," I said softly, still hiding behind Avalon. "No wonder you're still stuck here, after all these years . . ."

"A trauma like that would definitely let her remain, and if she was never buried, she wouldn't have a way out," Avalon agreed.

"So how do we help her?" I asked.

"I thought you were afraid," Avalon pointed out with a smirk.

"And you weren't?" I asked. "She needs our help – she needs someone's help. People didn't listen to her before. Someone should now."

"Good. First step, find the body. Or bones. Or whatever's left. Then we're gonna need a shovel and a spot to make the grave. After she's buried, she should be able to leave, or at least be at peace." She turned to the ghost. "Where did you die?"

"I died here," came the reply.

"There isn't a body here," Avalon told her. "Where did your body go?"

"Body . . ." The ghost looked around, almost like she couldn't remember. Maybe she couldn't, having been dead for so long. Maybe her body had broken to pieces, or been taken by animals.

"If you can't remember where your body is, we can't help you," Avalon said, crossing her arms.

"Help? Body help?"

"Yeah, your body would help. We can't exactly make a grave without a body."

"Maybe she doesn't remember where she died," I suggested. "They could have moved her body – dumped it in the creek or something."

"Creek . . ." She floated off deeper into the trees. At least this time she moved slowly, almost lost in thought. Avalon and I only had to do a fast walk to keep up.

She paused, coming to a creek, the one Avalon had found the day before. "Here."

"She must have fallen or been thrown into the creek," Avalon said. "So she would have been washed down over the years..."

Avalon wandered down the side of the creek, following the current and shining her flashlight into the black ripples, stopping when the banks bent and curved in a different direction.

I watched Avalon crouch down by the water, searching it with her flashlight. "The body would have been able to roll here, but I don't think the water would be able to turn them in a different direction, the curve is too sharp."

"How do you even know this stuff?" I asked.

"I watch too many criminal investigation shows," she replied.

"Well, how do we know if you're right?"

"I'm not dragging a shovel out here unless I'm sure, so . . ." She dropped her flashlight on the ground and pushed her sleeves up higher. "Shine your lantern over here."

"This is beyond wrong," I muttered, doing as she asked while she stuck her hand into the water and started shoving around the silt at the bottom. "We're in the middle of the forest, searching for a ghost's bones, lost a century ago, so we can put her to rest. This was not the vacation I signed on for."

"Man this is cold . . ." Avalon muttered, ignoring my ramblings. A second later she muttered a curse, recoiling and pulling her hand out of the water and shaking it off. "Gotta admit, part of me was really hoping I wouldn't find a bone."

The ghost hissed at her, scowling.

"So now what?" I asked.

"Now we leave and come back in the morning with a shovel," Avalon said, wiping the last of the water off on her pants and pushing her sleeves down to her elbows again. The ghost hissed again and I turned to keep an eye on her while Avalon grabbed her flashlight.

"Leave . . ."

"We're coming back," Avalon told her. "We're getting what we need, and then we're helping you. If you don't like it, then do something about it."

I could see the tightness in Avalon's shoulders as she challenged the ghost. I could see how worried she was the ghost would take her up on it, even though her face was straight and calm.

A few moments passed, the ghost watching her, before the blue of her form shimmered and faded. Avalon let out a breath, as did I.

"Let's get out of the forest, before she changes her mind," I decided. Avalon nodded and we started back on the path we'd traveled too many times that night.

-----

I was the first one to wake up the next morning, rolling over to keep the sun out of my eyes. We hadn't bothered closing the curtains the night before, being so tired from running around the forest.

I sat bolt upright, remembering what had happened, and our promise, or Avalon's promise, to the ghost.

I swung out of bed and shook Avalon awake, although it took a few minutes and she got in a few good shots before she clued in to who was shaking her. I suspected she knew the whole time and just didn't want to get up.

"Come on," I said. "We have to go bone hunting. Unless you want to go tell the sheriff or whatever they have here, which would be the sane thing to do."

"If we tell someone, they'll either think we're nuts, believe us and try to hunt her down, or think we're covering up a crime with a crazy story," she said, shoving the covers aside. "Besides, it's been a hundred years. There's nothing for a cop to do that we can't."

Once we got ready and scarfed down some toast, we started searching for the tool shed.

We located an old, rickety looking shed to the side off the house. Inside were all types of gardening tools; weed whackers, mulch, wheelbarrow the shears Mrs McKraken had used. More lined the walls and lay on the floor.

We pulled out a shovel, a bucket, and a pair of gloves that I insisted upon.

Twenty minutes later, we were arriving at the rock, looking for the path to the creek. Another five, and Avalon was knee deep in the water, jeans rolled up and flip flops off, scooping shovelfuls of silt onto the bank.

Wearing the gloves, it was my job to search through the muck, keeping an eye out for the ghost, despite what the journal said about when she appeared.

I was about to tell Avalon that she was wrong, and that all I had found were a few sticks and rocks, when I spotted a long, curved piece of bone, brown, as if someone had rubbed a tea bag over it or soaked it in coffee.

Gritting my teeth, I pulled it out of the pile, rinsed it off in the creek, and tossed it into the bucket before continuing my search, hating how often Avalon was right in her wild theories.

A few hours later, Avalon had dug out a good portion of the creek bed onto the bank, and was helping me search through the silt.

More than a few times when I found bones in the pile, I regretted the toast I had eaten and fought to keep it down. I thought for sure I was going to lose it when we found the skull, part of the back smashed to bits.

The bucket slowly filled up with bones as we tossed silt back into the creek, stirring up little muddy clouds in the water.

Eventually Avalon tossed the last handful into the water and sat back.

"Well, that's all there is to find. Anything not here got carried off by animals. This will have to do," she said.

"I can't believe we just dug up a hundred-year-old bones," I muttered. "We're completely insane."

"Yup, but it's for a good cause," she reminded me. "We're gonna set her free. Come on."

She stood up, grabbed the bucket, and wandered off, leaving me to take the shovel and follow her.

"So, where are we making the grave?" I asked.

"We'll make it at the rock, using it as a headstone. She spends all her time there anyways."

And so we found ourselves, two hours later, at the rock, with a hole large enough to bury one of us and about waist deep dug at its base.

I had no clue how Avalon was being so chill about burying the ghost's body, but she even took the time to scatter the bones in a way that they looked like a skeleton.

We almost had the full skeleton, just missing the back of the skull, bits of the spine and most of the small bones from the fingers and toes.

It took us only about half an hour to fill the hole and replant the flowers, which we managed to keep mostly intact and together.

Covered in dirt, exhausted from the day's work, and needing food, no matter how grossed out I was, since we had skipped lunch, we finally made it back to the house.

We didn't even bother to put away the bucket, shovel, and gloves, instead just leaving them on the porch and heading inside to take turns in the shower.

The rest of the day was spent hanging out in the living room, trying to find something interesting on TV. The best thing on was a Ghostbusters marathon.

We waited until the sun started to set before heading back out to see if burying the bones had done any good.

By that point, we had worn a clear path to the rock, the grass and plants so trampled and shoved to the side we could probably have found our way in pitch black.

I turned on my lantern as we reached the rock, the sun's rays fading.

"So, do you think she's gone?" I asked Avalon, glancing around.

"I don't know. She should be, she's got a proper grave now," she replied. "She's shown up every night so far, so if we don't see her tonight, that'll be our answer."

We waited a short while more, shining our lights into the trees and trying to spot a blue shimmer.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard giggling behind us.

Spinning around, we spotted the ghost, dancing and swirling around the rock, a smile on her face.

"You're still here," Avalon said, stating the obvious.

"Still here," The ghost repeated, giggling. Her voice still echoed through the trees like before, but there was no underlying hiss. Instead, it was soft, pleasant, almost musical.

"But, you have a grave," I told her, pointing to the dirt patch over her bones.

"Have a grave, still here."

"Did you choose to stay here?" Avalon asked.

"Choose to stay here," the ghost confirmed.

"Are you, happy? At peace?"

"Have a grave, happy, at peace, choose to stay here." The ghost twirled, giggling again.

"So, you aren't going to go all crazy and kill us or anything?" I clarified. She shook her head before zipping around, weaving between us.

"And you're going to hang out here for a while?" Avalon asked. The ghost paused long enough to nod again.

"Well, I guess we have to give her a name," I said.

"Well, what about Avira?" Avalon suggested. The ghost stopped in front of her and nodded, a grin still spread across her face. "Alright, Avira it is. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," the ghost repeated.

"I guess that notebook we found will have to be changed," I told Avalon. "She's different now."

"Well, maybe you should make a new one," Avalon said. "You can sketch Avira and her rock, and record everything we learned about her. And you can do the same thing for anything else we find."

"You think there's going to be more in this place?" I asked.

"Well, we've got all summer. Let's find out."

A/N: Remember, the official site is writingworld.wix.com/lostchronicles minus the spaces

2: Vol 1.2: Rippling Waves

A/N: To read this properly (with the italics & stuff) please go to the website! This story was written by me and is from the POV of Avalon.

Once upon a time, I quite liked my cousin. I mean, he’d agreed to me and my best friend Natasha staying in his place for the whole summer alone. That was great. It was also why I was running around the attic with a straw broom swatting at the air.

I had no idea what was making the noise, but it didn’t sound like a bug or a bird, and after laying a ghost to rest three day previous, I was beginning to think it wasn’t going to be found in a natural history book.

One moment it’d be at one end of the attic, a weird sound like a combination of buzzing and tapping, and then it skittered along a wild path to the other end. So I was navigating by sound, trying to hit it and hoping I didn’t fall through the open hatch in the floor to the bedroom below.

I brought the bristled down in a corner with a yell. My chest was heaving. “Did you get it?” Natasha called up. The noise skittered away again. “I’ll take that as a no.”

I straightened up and tucked an auburn lock behind my ear. My bun was over half fallen out. Fully annoyed by that sound and wanting ear plugs, I walked over to the hatch and climbed down the ladder, dragging the broom with me.

“You checked that notebook we found about Avira, right? There was nothing about weird sounds in the house?” I asked.

Natasha sighed. “I checked and double checked. There’s stuff that’s to scribble out to read, and it was incomplete about Avira in the first place. It’s not any help.”

“How does one know about a ghost living in the forest that appears twice a day but not about noises in the attic?” I grumbled. “Well in that case, we’ll just have to go to the library again.”

“And look up what?”

“Anything and everything. Can, I don’t know, fairies exist in the same realm as ghosts?” I supposed it was possible, though it could be just as impossible. After all, ghosts weren’t supposed to exist and we had one as a neighbour. Natasha just gave me a look. “Oh whatever. Let’s just try to pretend it doesn’t exist for now.”

There was a sound like whatever it was was doing a jig. “I hope it shuts up when we go to bed,” Natasha said.

“If not . . .” I hefted the broom. “It won’t get a good night’s sleep.” I thumped the handle on the ceiling a couple times. Dust trickled down. I grinned and Natasha cracked a smile. “Got the movie queued up?”

“Yup. The Princess Bride is all set up and I’ve made two big bowls of popcorn,” she said. “Time for a movie night.”

“Now all we need are milkshakes,” I said, setting the broom aside and heading to the door. “To bad the grocery store only had vanilla ice cream.” The invisible thing made more noise. “If it stops the movie, I will smack the sense out of it.”

“You’re going to smack the sense out of an invisible noise maker?”

“I dug up a ghost’s bones. I think I can handle it.”

“And here I was hoping that the ghost would be the last of the supernatural.”

------

I woke up to sunlight and Natasha poking me in the back with the broom. I grabbed it from her and threw it to the floor. “Inconceivable,” I muttered to her, sticking with the all-time favourite joke of The Princess Bride fans as a call back to the previous night.

“Breakfast. And then we go back to the library. That thing started up again this morning.”

“At least we know it sleeps.” I said up. My hair was a wonderful pile of knots around my head. I needed to start braiding it at night or something. It’d take me forever to be presentable.

Ten minutes later we were dressed and tromping downstairs for breakfast. My hair was still a mess. I grabbed bowls and spoons as Natasha picked out a cereal. I set the cutlery down. “Hey Nat, I thought you were looking through the notebook upstairs?”

“I was.”

I picked up the notebook from the table. “Then what’s this doing here?”

Natasha looked up, knitting her eyebrows. “What? – That can’t be the same notebook. I just saw it in our room.”

“Then why is it . . . ?” I flipped it open to a random page. “Nope. You’re right. This is different. Nothing about Avira or other ghostly instances in Fernwood like the other one.” I turned to the front. My eyes widened. “No way. This is about the house.”

Natasha set the box of Raisin Bran down. “What?”

“Look!” I thumbed through the pages. “A drawing of the house with a bunch of notes about the different rooms. Although I can barely make out this handwriting.”

“I should’ve made you take that calligraphy class with me,” Natasha said to herself as she took the notebook from me. “This is about noises and sightings of shapes in the house.”

“You mean what we were dealing with last night?” I crossed my arm, feeling a scowl form on my face. “Does it say what it is? Or how to get rid of it?”

“No. It’s just documenting the specifics of each case. But there is stuff inked out.”

“Great. We have a partially helpful notebook about the paranormal that appeared in a rather paranormal way. How does that work? And who wrote these notebooks? Because local ghost lore is pretty common, but I get the feeling the rest of the town doesn’t believe in the supernatural. Except for whoever wrote these.” I realized I was looking at the notebook like I would a math problem – very ticked off and confused.

“Maybe this is from Mrs McKraken,” Natasha suggested. “We found the first one in the attic. Maybe she found this one in the shed and thought it was mine and brought it back.”

“If that’s the case, I should take her house keys,” I said. “But I suppose it makes sense. Well, more sense. There’s still the –” That sound reverberated through the house. “And it woke up. Let’s eat quickly and see what this notebook says.”

The notebook was only slightly helpful. It speculated on the sound being brownies or boggarts or tiny winged people or leprechauns or clurichauns, and I only had an idea of what two of those things were. Thankfully it also denounced several theories. But it didn’t tell us what it was, or what to do.

By the time I was placing the last pins in my bun the thing in the attic was making a riot like yesterday. Resisting the urge to go and try to smack it again with the broom, Natasha and I headed out for the library.

It was just as empty as the first time around, only now the librarian girl had a working computer. She was on Facebook. As the door closed without a sound she looked over at us, surprised. “You guys are back.”

“Well my cousin never installed a Wi-Fi modem, so this and cable TV are our forms of summer entertainment,” I said. “Hope you don’t mind. We won’t take anything out.”

She shrugged. “Would hardly matter if you do. People barely come in here, it’ll be nice having some regulars. Your cousin?”

“Yeah, I’m Avalon Cook,” I told her. “We’re staying in that big old place my cousin inherited a couple years ago from some old, dead person I’m related to only through marriage.”

“That explains why you guys are still around. Well, enjoy the books.”

We headed over to the mythology and folklore section and started pulling out books on the plausible theorized creatures.

A number of hours I wasn’t sure of later and we seemed to have gone through everything dealing with miniature people and gnomes. I stuffed the last book on the shelf, making a face. Natasha was scribbling out a picture of . . . it looked like a Lord of the Rings dwarf, but I think she meant it to be a gnome.

“That was a waste of time,” I muttered. “The best I got is offering it milk.”

Natasha glanced over at me. “You are not putting a bowl of milk out in the attic and then leaving it there overnight. That will stink.”

“I know. Maybe I can substitute it for acorns.”

“Acorns?”

“These are all forest-y things. Maybe it’ll like acorns. Though I don’t know where I’d find them this time of year . . .”

“Uh . . .” Natasha closed her sketchbook. “Let’s just go. We haven’t found anything. Maybe it’s just a rat in the walls or something normal.”

“Because it’ll be something normal after the ghost,” I said to myself as Natasha packed up her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

We said good-bye to the librarian, who was still on social media, and then spent the next little while wandering around town. We borrowed some ‘free’ Wi-Fi to check our phones for any important messages, though we only had a few minutes so we weren’t caught.

Back at the house we saw Mrs McKraken going around the grounds with a wheelbarrow and loppers and a shovel. It looked like one of the shovels we’d used to dig Avira’s grave. Such fun memories.

I unlocked the front door and we went inside to have our ears immediately greeted with that annoying skittering sound magnified by times ten. Natasha looked like she was ready to bolt out the door. I snatched up the broom and brandished the bristles. “Alright, show yourself! Or I’m giving you a mouthful of straw. If you have a mouth.”

The hall fell quiet and I moved cautiously into the kitchen. I looked around and caught a glimpse of a slight shadow in the corner. Just as I focused on it, the shadow dart on, accompanied by that sound once again.

I automatically dropped the broom and lunged at it. I fully expected to miss or have my hands pass through it, so I was about as surprised at the creature when I managed to catch it. Behind me I heard Natasha squeak as I started wrestling with an extremely strong and determined miniature creature.

“Stop that!” I shouted. “You’re a pest!”

“Am not, am not, am not!” a high-pitched voice exclaimed. I was so shocked I froze and stared at the thing in my hands. “I made a deal with the owner a hundred and fifty years ago! They may be dead, but their bargain still holds!”

Picture a tiny, thin man with green skin, pointed ears, sharp teeth, and potentially absent clothing, and that’s what I was suddenly holding in my hands. My mouth worked for a second. “Bargain? What bargain? And what’s with the noise?”

The little man glared at me. “I made a deal. I could keep the shrooms in the attic. Now we need them, but they’re not there! They were moved! You moved them!”

“The attic’s been completely empty,” Natasha muttered.

I thought for a second. “Not when my cousin got the place,” I said. “There was a ton of stuff in there. And . . .” Right then I was regretting not paying much attention to family conversations. “I think he mentioned finding a box of something he thought was organic. Apparently when he opened it, it was really stinky, so he threw it out.”

The little man wailed in my hands.

“I think those are the . . . shrooms he mentioned,” Natasha said.

“Obviously,” I said. “But they’re long gone now.”

The little man looked like he was trying to keep his head from exploding. “No good! No good! The emergency stache is all we have for the coming of age ceremony! It takes twenty years to dry shrooms! For my nephew this works, but my niece will not have a proper drowning!”

“Coming of age?”

”Drowning?” Leave it to Natasha to focus on the part with horrifying moral implications.

“Yes, yes. Coming of age drowning ceremony. Fine for my nephew in three days. Not good for my niece in a few years. No shrooms is bad. I need them. The deal was made to me, it shouldn’t have been broken even if the old man died. Who works like that?”

“Humans,” I said. “The goblins from Harry Potter. Probably most sentient beings.” I gave the little man a hard look. “The point is – stay outta my house. My cousin’s house. Whatever. And what’s this about a drowning?”

“Standard nokken procedure. None of your business.” Then the little thing vanished. Literally vanished; one minute I was holding it, the next it was gone. That annoying skittering sound started up again, but before I could pinpoint it, it was gone.

I looked furiously around. “That little – what did he say?”

“No . . . nokken procedure? What does that mean?” Natasha said.

“I have no idea, but I can tell you one thing. If it wasn’t so late, I’d say go back to the library and look up this ‘nokken’ term. But we don’t have time for that, and I don’t like this drowning talk. So tomorrow, let’s check out the lake.”

Natasha folded her arms. “If something in there is going to drown me, I’m not going swimming.”

“We’ll check it out before we go into the lake. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe these things live in the creek or something. Though that makes the memory of dredging bones more terrifying,” I said.

“I can’t decide if I hate or like this town,” Natasha decided. I gave her one of my grins that could’ve meant anything. She knew better than to argue with me.

------

The next day we got up early and dress for the lake, despite the fact it would probably be chilly. I had shorts and my jacket on over my one piece bathing suit, and Natasha wore leggings and a tank top and fingerless gloves over hers.

I slung a beach bag with towels and sunscreen and other beach essentials such as snacks over my shoulder and Natasha had her messenger bag. She was double checking it for pencils and colours and paper. That was when she discovered the third notebook. It was just sitting in Natasha’s bag, the worn leather cover an obvious deviation from her colourful sketchbook.

She pulled it out. “Okay, now these things are freaking me out.” She creaked it open. “A-a-and it’s about those nokken things. Lovely.” I hung over her shoulder and we hastily flipped through the pages. Any advice would be good.

“Huh,” I said. “Shapeshifting . . . water spirits . . . music . . . merpeople? Well, if they can shapeshift . . . nice horses. Not that I’ll try to ride one and drown. I can’t tell if these are supposed to be friendly or not.”

“No clue,” Natasha grumbled. “Stuff is inked out or left blank, like unanswered questions and things people shouldn’t know. There’s nothing about nokkens and the lake. But knowing the worst of their tricks is nice. Providing these are the worst.”

“Aren’t you just a little ray of sunshine?” I said, making a face and taking the book from her. “Well let’s get going. Maybe we can prevent a drowning and find out who made the freaky ghost books. If books are gonna pop up every time we encounter something . . .”

I pushed that thought away and we left.

The lake was only about half an hour away on foot, which was good since we didn’t have a car or anything. Not that we could drive, technically. We had no fully licensed driver to sit in the passenger seat. On the road, a few other people joined us. Mainly families with little kids.

The stretch of lakeshore that was a mix of sand and smooth stones was open, one lifeguard on duty. The guy was so scrawny, I doubted he could pull me out, much less someone larger.

We spread out towels and kicked off our sandals to stake our claim on the sand. I grabbed the old notebook and waited as Natasha took off her cover up clothes. “Ready to go find a water spirit?” I asked her.

“No. But you’ll go anyways.”

I smiled and then made my way to the shoreline. I turned right and back to pick my way beside the shallows. We walked for a couple minutes, until we were out the immediate line of sight of the townsfolk, but their sounds remained just on the verge of hearing.

I looked out of the faded blue of the lake. “Now what?” Natasha asked.

“I figure out how to summon a nokken or whatever,” I said. “Maybe I should yell insults until that little things that was in the house comes back.”

“That would be a good way to get dragged under,” a male voice off to the side said. I jumped and realized that a teenage boy was sitting on a large rock by the water’s edge. His dark hair and blue clothes were damp. He looked up, blue eyes sorrowful.

“Uh . . . who are you?” I asked.

“You’re not running away,” he noted, ignoring my question. I had to grab Natasha’s arm to stop her from backing up.

“Should I be?” I asked.

“Most people don’t want to stick around if they’re talking to a nokken.”

“Right – wait, you’re the same thing as that creepy little green dude I grabbed?” I looked at Natasha. “There was mention of shapeshifting.”

“This is just weird,” she muttered.

“You could apologize for grabbing my uncle,” the nokken boy said. “He was put out about it for the rest of the day. Though I would have loved to see his face.”

I stared at him. “Uncle? Are you the guy who’s supposed to drown someone at some point?”

He shook his head. “Nah. That’s my little brother. He’s still got a few years before his turn. It’s my little sister’s ceremony in a few days.”

I blinked. “Um . . . is there a whole family of nokkens living in this lake?”

He thought for a second. “There’s my parents, my older sister, me, my little sister, my little brother, my uncle, my cousin, and then there’s that nix I think I’m related to but I’m not sure.”

Natasha and I exchanged a glance. “Well that’s uncomfortable if you all drown people. What’s a nix?”

He frowned. “Humans use different terms, don’t they? Nix is our term for any male. A nixie is female.”

I looked at Natasha. “Notebook. Now.”

She looked close to screaming or something, but she pulled the notebook out of her messenger bag and handed it to me. I creaked it open and began to flip through pages. “Yeah . . . not finding anything. Brilliant. Okay. We got shapeshifting lake people. What’s up with the drowning thing?”

The . . . nix nokken . . . shrugged. “It’s a tradition. When we come of age, we have this whole ceremony and all, and at the end we’re supposed to drown a human. Nokkens have been doing it for ages.”

I swallowed. “I take it that includes yourself.”

He was silent for a moment, then very deliberately he took his bare feet out of the shallows and onto dry land. He stood up and walked over. I was fully prepared to run if I had to. He folded his arms. “Are you any good at keeping secrets?”

Natasha made a squeaking sound. “You have no idea,” I said dryly, thinking of Avira.

He glanced at the lake, his eyes distant. “I messed up my ceremony. I didn’t want to drown a person. I used a rabbit instead. All we need to do is take a life and bring back some bones and blood. I didn’t even want to do that, but like I said, tradition. The rest of my family is old fashioned. And since you,” he gave me a pointed look, “grab my uncle and were kind of rude to him, my sister is pretty eager to make you or your friend her victim. I felt it fair to warn you.”

Natasha plucked at my sleeve. “Avalon . . . maybe we should go.”

I swallowed. “As tempting as that is, they know where I live, and, er . . .”

I opened the notebook again and flipped to the pages about nokken and music. “So according to this, nokkens are into using magical music to drown people. Make I should lock myself in the basement with some ear plugs in.”

“What is that?”

I literally jumped when I realize the nokken was standing next to me to look at the notebook. “Geez, I don’t care if you’re a shapeshifting lake monster, don’t sneak up on a girl!”

“Lake monster?”

“Uh, maybe dial down the insults,” Natasha said. “And it’s just a notebook. Magically popped up in my bag this morning and has info on you . . . nokken things.”

“No way.” He snatched the notebook from me and began to leaf through it quickly.

“Hey, give that back! It’s none of your business!”

Suddenly he started laughing. “I can’t believe he was telling the truth!”

Natasha and I looked at him blankly. “Who was telling the truth?” she asked.

“My grandfather,” he replied, still reading the notebook. “Died a few years ago. He told me stories about how for a week or so, someone hung around the lake, writing all the time and drawing. My grandfather said he thought it was about nokkens, but he never saw the notebook. I thought he made it up, since he never said what the writer was. Could’ve been anything or anyone.”

I threw up my hands. “Magic journals written by some mysterious, unknown entity! A dead magic lake spirit who saw said entity! I hate my cousin for telling us to come here!”

Natasha gave me a look. “Really?”

“Oh . . .” Angrily I grabbed the notebook back. “Unless either of you have something useful to say, be quiet! I want to, oh I don’t know, stop myself or Nat or anyone else from drowning!”

I started going through the notebook, reading every little bit of the elaborate handwriting.

“Your friend is weird,” the nokken said.

“No kidding,” Natasha said. “Say, uh, you got a name, right?”

“We’re technically not supposed to tell humans, but I am peaceful so it should be fine. It’s –” He said something that sounded German or something.

“. . . Can I just call you Nick?” she asked.

“. . . Sure.”

I looked up from the book. “What was that about not telling humans your name?”

Nick the nix nokken looked at me. Those blue eyes seemed to be permanently stuck in sad mode. “Well, supposedly if a human says our name, it’ll either kill us or force us to let them go . . . but that only applies if we’re trying to drown them, I think. Not sure. Nokkens haven’t have contact with humans in a long time.”

“You like breaking all the rules, don’t you?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I think humans are cool. That’s why I like this form.”

“What other forms can you do?” Natasha asked.

“The usual – this one, half person half fish, a white horse. Not much more than that. My uncle is good at shapeshifting.”

“Great. Well I’m going to do something stupid!” I announced. I strode purposefully along the lakeshore, looking for just the right spot.

“She does this sort of thing a lot, doesn’t she?” Nick wondered.

Natasha gave a sigh. “Earlier this week she went looking for a ghost’s bones in the creek at night. You have no idea.”

------

I found a pile of rocks that stuck off of the lakeshore and clamoured out to the end. Natasha stood behind me safely on the shore. Nick stuck his feet in the shallows and plopped down on a stone.

I cleared my throat loudly. “Go-o-o-d day nixes and nixies! Sorry about yesterday and the yelling and all, though there was trespassing and that annoying noise . . . but that’s not important! So, uh, about that whole drowning thing. Don’t suppose I could talk to someone about, like, alternatives?”

Nothing happened. I stood there awkwardly, feeling like an idiot. Just when I was thinking there was no point in waiting any longer and I should head back and go with the basement-and-earplugs idea, a head popped up from the lake.

Their skin was tinted green and the ears tapered to long, slender points. Black eyes looked at me coldly. “So you’re the one who grabbed my brother. You don’t look like much.”

“I kinda doubted I would,” I replied. “And I really am sorry – I’m new to the whole ‘paranormal’ thing and I didn’t know there was any actual reason behind everything, just that there was a really irritating noise. I’m apologizing for grabbing your brother and I’d do it to his face but I don’t exactly blame him for not . . . surfacing? Whatever. I think you get what I mean. I hope.”

The nixie just curled her lip. “You like to talk, don’t you? I really will encourage my daughter to choose you as her victim.”

I swallowed nervously. “Avalon . . .” Natasha hissed at me. I was suddenly very inclined to join her in running for it.

Instead I tried for a smile. “Really? I mean, if you nokkens are semi-immortal like I think, then you might not be up to speed on how things have changed. If they find me or anyone else drowned, especially fully dressed, there’ll be a huge inquiry. Police will be swarming this place for forever.”

“Then we can just drown them too.”

That had not been the response I was hoping for. I really wanted to bolt for it then.

And that was when Natasha once again showed herself as a genius. “That’s a terrible idea,” she said. “If you start killing off to many people or doing it to frequently, then there’ll be a ton of police and reporters, way too many for even your whole family to drown. Then everyone will start getting suspicious of the lake and the area and no one will be allowed near it. Then your ceremony will never done by anyone in the years to come.”

The nixie blinked slowly. Her eyes were like chips of obsidian. “Your words are not pleasing, but I see no reason to find truth in them. We must have a victim for the ceremony.”

“Uh-huh, well . . .” I glanced over to where Nick sat, only he wasn’t there. There was a really large blue fish in the shallows. Great. I focused back the nixie and held up the notebook. “See, this has a bunch of info on you nokkens. And while there’s mention of your ceremony, there’s nothing that says it needs to be a human. Just a life taken, and then the blood and bones of that. You could just use an animal instead. No one would get concerned if they found the remains of a drowned animal. Then your ceremony is done and no one dies and alerts the police and ruins everything for you.”

The dark eyes blinked slowly again. “Feasible, yes, but that would break with tradition.”

“If your tradition started in medieval times, then it might need to change since the whole planet has changed in the, like, several hundred years between then and now,” I told her. “I’m not suggesting you change your ceremony, just one small, tiny detail that works better for this era.”

“It would also save your life,” she noted.

“Well . . . yeah, probably. But I’m going to die eventually and while I’d prefer to stay alive I’m not . . . oh, forget it. I came here to apologize for the whole grabbing your brother thing and to ask you to not drown a person. My personal philosophy should not be discussed.”

“Hm. Well, I would have to discuss this break from tradition. We shall see what is decided.” The nixie vanished with hardly a ripple.

Feeling a jangle of nerves inside me twist, I picked my way along the stones to reach the shore again. As I hopped down on to the dirt, I looked over to where that giant blue fish was hanging out in the shadows and it suddenly changed.

The colours blurred and the form stretched, spreading and bubbling until it was once more human and the colours sharpened, revealing the same damp, dark haired boy with sad blue eyes.

“I can’t decide if that was cool or disturbing,” Natasha said.

Nick frowned. “Why? What did it look like?” I exchanged a look with my best friend, completely at a loss as to how to describe the shapeshifting. “Anyways. I didn’t particularly want my mum to see me with you guys, and I can at least hold a fish form for a descent amount of time.”

“I don’t even know how to respond,” I muttered.

He seemed unconcerned. “Well, they’ll probably be talking about things for a few hours. Though maybe you should avoid deep water until then.”

That was only common sense. “I think we’ll just stay far back on the beach and hang out before heading home. Uh, thanks for the info and advice and all. I wouldn’t have been able to bluff my way through otherwise.”

“No problem. I don’t exactly agree with my family, and you guys seem pretty cool.”

“Still, thanks,” Natasha said. “Now we should probably get going.” She gave me a wide eyed look, and I stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, I get it. I’ve scared you enough for today, let’s go.”

We walked back to the beach, where people were going about their lives normally. They completely ignored us; like we were two ordinary girls out for an ordinary walk. Instead we’d dealt with angry water spirits. Yeah, I really used to like my cousin.

We flopped down on our towels on the sand. Natasha pulled out a sketchbook and began to play around with her various pencils. I put the notebook away and took out a tattered paperback novel, Dragon Keeper. This had been a weird morning, so why not delve in to a nice fantasy world?

------

Natasha was stealing the can opener from me – they were evil, but I could manage – when there was a knock on the door. Confused, and clearly seeing Mrs McKraken on the other side of the property through the window, I let Natasha take the can opener and went out into the hall to the front door.

I pulled it opened and was greeted with the sight of a damp boy. I blinked. “Oh, um, hi.” I craned my head back, which caused my bun to come loose. “Nat! It’s Nick the nix nokken.” I looked at him. “Sorry, that’s just fun to say.” There was a clatter as Natasha dropped what she held and stuck her head out into the hall.

“What does he want?” she asked.

I raised my eyebrows. “Well? You wanna come in and talk or are you here to distract us before you family kills us?”

Nick stepped just inside. “I thought I’d tell you what happened. They’ve decided animals are okay, after much grumbling. They’re already having to mess around with details due to the sudden lack of shrooms, so in comparison it’s not too big a deal to change human to animal. I think my mum was impressed by how you guys, well, Avalon, stood up to her without quaking in fear.”

“I’d call that out as rude,” Natasha said, “but I was seriously terrified.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said. “Well, that’s good news, that no one will be drowned. Thanks for telling us.”

Nick smiled. “It’s no trouble. I thought you should know.”

“Yeah, well like I’ve said before, thanks. You want to come in? We’re about to make dinner, not that that’s impressive . . .”

He thought about it for a moment. “Sure. Why not? It’d be cool to hang out without people for once. I can’t exactly make friends being a nokken.”

I stood aside to let him walk past me and shut the door. Natasha was looking at me like I was out of my mind, but didn’t say anything. “Just don’t soak the furniture,” I told him. “Or we’re gonna have an issue with you being permanently damp.”

Back in the kitchen, I turned the stove on and we got to fixing dinner. Our nokken guest wasn’t exactly helpful in that regards. Somehow, it seemed like my friends in Misty Crossing had doubled, but only one of them was human. This town was turning everything on its head, and I felt the strangeness wasn’t done. After all, there were those magical notebooks.

No, as I set the table, I knew the mysteries and magic weren’t done by a long shot.