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Rated: 13+ · Novel · Fantasy · #1790451
this is the chapter 1..
The Night-Girl 





          I was a night-girl. I wasn’t  afraid of the dark. I could roam around in the cemetery at midnight without the tip of fear touching the surface of me.


          Everyday I would take the lonely road from Pipa’s house  to mine. Street 420 . Ironic, huh? The name .  Well, there had been a lot of thieves around this street until an unknown ghost ruined their source of income.
         
          The ghost was of a sixteen year old high school girl who wore jeans and T-shirt with sneakers instead of a  spooky, boring white gown. Maybe the people thought this ghost preferred more to be comfy than traditional.


          Anyways, I have been taking that way to home almost every school-night for the last two years. Guess, they had sightings of me. But I didn’t bother to clear the doubts. I enjoyed it.


          From time to time, I would hear stories about a young spirit haunting Street 420. I loved it. Rumors spread faster than light in small towns.


          By the time I reached home, it was 10 already. I wanted to hurry to my room before mom could get a chance to say anything. But guess I wasn’t fast enough.


          “You are getting more and more late with each passing day, miss !” , mom sounded angry and worried at the same time.


          “I completed my homework” , I said trying to reach my room.
         
“That’s not an excuse .”


          “Right. That’s not an excuse’, I blurted out. “I am not trying to give one.”


          “Jaz, It’s not safe out, especially at this time of the day”, I could see my mom was calming down a bit now. Now that I reached home. Unhurt.


          But now I am getting all heated up.


          “What’s not safe ?! I don’t see anything dangerous there. It’s just a quiet, lonely road.”


          “There’s no street light there. It spooks me out!” my eleven year old brother, Jemmy , added salt to the fire.


          “What doesn’t spook you out, kid?” I shouted at the kid.


          “Jaz !” my mother glared at me.


          “What?” It was getting really frustrating. “ There are street lights”, I argued. “They just don’t work.”


          “Don’t try to act smart.”mom said.


          All  I  want is  to get to my room, my hiding place. Why isn’t she letting me…
         
          “There are many stories about that road.” Mom continued.


          “Like? The long lost spirit walking around in jeans and T-shirt?” It’s getting really annoying now. As if she didn’t know. “ Mom, if it’s news to you, that’s me. I am the ghost.”


          “Bingo!” said Javier Jones, another annoying masterpiece whom I was to know as my elder brother, cut in.
         
I,  honestly, do not think he is my elder brother. Aren’t big brothers suppose to save their baby sisters from anything and everything? I have even seen brothers who chase their baby  sisters loving and caring boyfriends away , just to be protective. Well, that’s absolutely lame. But still…


          “She is the ghost !!” he added.


          I ignored him. “Lets talk it out sometime later”, I said to mom. “I am really tired.”


          I took something to eat from the kitchen and dashed straight to my room , bolted the locks and I finally was at peace.


          Usually, my mother was a fun loving person ( which the kid missed to meet, by the time things around started making sense to him; mom was already suffering from this paranoia .She now thinks everyday is a ‘Freaky Friday’ ) until our dad died.. The worst part is… we don’t even know if he is dead or still breathing. He just got missing. Whether he was kidnapped or he was so sick and bored of us that he preferred  to leave, we didn’t know.


          I was five , Javier eight and the kid,  a mere one year old when this happened.


He loved us a lot. We knew it. There was no way he abandoned us. My heart says he is alive. But if it is so, where was he? Did he not miss his kids? Did he not miss mom?


          Dad was the bravest man I had ever met. He was a hunter. I remember him hanging out with his other hunter friends at our house. Their laughter roared in every corner of the house. I don’t remember the faces of the hunter friends. But I do remember his. I can recognize him anywhere; if I ever see him again that is.


          Like him, I and Jav were fearless. We didn’t learn to be afraid. We wanted it so bad; to be like dad.


          But the kid, that was all he was taught. To be afraid. Mom wanted us to be safe, but making us coward wasn’t  gonna protect us.


          I cast the thought of dad away as I didn’t want to spend the night trying to fight my tears.


          I switched on my ipod; turned the volume up till I could block out any other sound from  reaching  those ears. The Linking Park had the power to sooth me. I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling as Lp lulled me to darkness.
© Copyright 2011 bidisha g (bonnybiedz at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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