Part three of the ghost story.

"STOP!" I shouted at the blonde, her long hair blinding me as I gripped the knife. Sometimes, my hand couldn't take it and lose its grip, but the other hand wouldn't back down.

"STOP WHOEVER YOU ARE!!" She hollered, as she tried to figure out why the air was grasping her knife so tight, it left marks. 

She couldn't hear me. Couldn't see me. But yet, none of that mattered as my hands yanked roughly at the knife, placed solidly in Jessica's hands.

I pull once more, and have the knife in my control. It's shiny blade, stared back at me, but my reflection was bare and transparent. 

The knife turns ghostly in my fingertips, as Jessica tries to figure out what happened. Her luscious hair was now tangled, her glasses cracked. They must of slipped off during the fight. They were clearly heavily damaged, yet she gave no notice as she placed them back on the bridge of her nose. Her head was lightly dripping with blood, its source concealed by her golden locks.

"Stop…" She whispers, falling to her knees. "Stop…" She bows her head and sobs. "Let me die… Let me… Please..."

Her begging hit me like a ton of bricks, the weight of the world now on my fragile, lifeless shoulders. I look into the blade again, but the image has changed. Now it revealed Jessica and her petite body pushed up against the lockers, piles of papers floating in the air. A crowd that surrounded her laughed, picking them up, and placing them on her already large stack of books.

"Better be done by morning," One of them taunted as the others howled with laughter, some boys slapping him on his shoulder. The girls looked quite content with themselves, and rushed over to the bathroom I now stood in. 

The vision blurred before showing Jessica, now curled up in a ball crying onto the tiles of the school bathroom.

I dropped the knife, and it clattered on the ground. Jessica heard and looked up, to see her knife on the floor. I couldn't hold that knife. It wasn't just some old kitchen knife.

It was Jessica's life.

I went over to her overflowing stack of books, and ripped out a sheet of paper from her notebook. Unzipping her pencil case, I take out a pencil.

I write down a few sentences, before leaving it where I stood. I placed her materials back in the bag before hastily exiting out the lavatory.

I remember the look of confusion on her face as I left, her mind trying to process the words. 

The words I scribbled, before I left. The words that probably saved her.

Don't do it. Trust me, it's not worth it.

Ok this is part two of the ghost girl story. Now this part shows more of another character and starts the set for the entire story.

Jessica Johnston, a sophomore, was a geek. Her oval glasses slipped from her nose from time to time, occasionally it screamed out an unhealthy crack. Her freckles dotting her face, her sunshine hair falling halfway down her back, her eyes dull and lifeless, like- like mine.

She walks down the hallway, and disappears down a hall at the intersection. Her tiny legs carry her towards the classrooms. Her books stacked in her hands, overflowing, as the bell rings, its sound blaring through the loud speakers. She jumps and drops some of her books, and I rush forward to help her, but I skid to a stop. 

I can't help her. I want to, but I can't.

Now her destination seemed to be away from the classrooms, as she flew to the girl's bathroom. She stares at the door, as if she was making sure it wasn't a boy's image in front of her. Like the clear sign didn't state, "Girl's Room".

After another moment of hesitation, she finally enters it. I didn't even understand why I'm following her. It's like I have no control over my body parts. Like I'm a pawn in a game of chess, being told where to go. 

There's no point in heading in after her, she probably just has to go. I wait for a few minutes, and when she doesn't come out I got worried. My insides churned, the feeling I get when something bad was about to happen. I wait, but a few minutes turns into ten, and by then I can't take it. I enter the bathroom, and hear crying in one of the stalls. I couldn't push the stall open and I didn't feel like floating in, so I levitated off the ground, the tiles becoming tiny particles. 

I gasp at what I see. Jessica is in a stall, with her phone out ready to record, with a knife against her skin.

She couldn't do it. I wouldn't let her. No. No. She didn't deserve it. She was supposed to go to Oxford or Princeton and graduate at the top of her class. No.

With no other thoughts in my mind, I leapt forward, and grabbed the knife. I wouldn't let her make the same mistake I did.

And that's how it started. How we began struggling against the white floor of a bathroom, for control over Jessica's life.


Maria Gonzalez

I walk through the hallways. Through the teachers, the students, the geeks, the nerds, the jocks, the prom queens and the bullies. They don't notice. Here I'm invisible. Occasionally, some people would bump into me, but they wouldn't say "Watch it creep!", they would think they hit something they couldn't see or that didn't exist and they tripped over their own two feet. But they didn't, they tripped over mine. 

I stand outside science, contemplating whether or not to go in. After a few minutes, I decide to just go in. I float through the door, without making a sound. I head to my seat, as my teacher starts passing out papers. He skips my desk though. Like I said, invisible.

I sigh, and head up to his desk, where he keeps extra sheets, and then grab one like usual, and it instantly turns transparent. Some people notice this and point, but the science professor just sends them to the nurse for rest. They believe what the nurse says, that their mind is seeing things that aren't there.  Usually due to tiredness, or over stress or some other medical term. 

Well they're wrong.

I go back to my desk and try to sit in my seat, but it's pretty much impossible, so I just stand. I try to grip the pencil, but I couldn't concentrate very well ever since…- I just attempt to soak up all the information my teacher was saying.

While all the kids huddle in groups, debating what chemical goes in what beaker, I stand back, wishing I could do that too.

But I can't.

I just stare at the clock, its tick-tocking soothing me, unlike how it used to irritate me, waiting for that bell.

It rang, and I dump my paper into the waste basket, before exiting the lab.

I float over to my locker, and put in my combination, something that took forever to master, in this form. I look at the corner, the only space that isn't bare, and see my picture. I smile, it's nice to remember how you look when you can't use a mirror.

My name is Maria Gonzalez. And I'm dead.

What should I do next???

Fashion. Everybody thinks it means catching up on the latest trends/styles and whatnot, but to me it’s a way of expressing myself. Which, is why when I walked into Castle Heights Middle School, I wasn't shocked when everyone started snickering, laughing, and pointing at me as I entered the doors of my brand new school.

“ Look at that doof.” I could hear one girl whispering to her friend. 

“What in the world is she wearing?” I could hear another say.

I looked down at my outfit. I was wearing a Hello Kitty necklace, a yellow strapless top, a black pencil skirt, and some bright red high heeled shoes, all topped with a hot pink purse draped over my shoulder. The Hello Kitty necklace was to signify the young days of our childhood, when girls liked Hello Kitty and played with dolls. The yellow top and the black skirt was to show that how girls acted when they were in middle school and to show that I was growing up. The red heels and the pink purse was for a splash of color to make my outfit really POP! Based on the looks I was getting, I had really made it POP! 

“Great,” I murmured to myself sarcastically, “just the way I wanted to be noticed.”

By the looks of things, it didn't see like anyone would even dare to talk to me. But then I met Taylor. Little did I know, Taylor would be the reason I got through middle school. She would be the reason I survived this jail. 

“ Hi,” Taylor stated. “I like your outfit, its very-” She paused for a minute, searching for the right word. “-different.”

“Thanks,” I replied back. At least someone liked my outfit. Or wait, was she being sarcastic too? I glanced at her face to check. She was beaming as bright as the sun. It seemed like she was serious. Maybe there was some hope for me. 

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My latest book, Let Me Dream! I hope you all enjoy, because in MY book, it's really good! (ha ha)

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Okay, I have the story although its not done....

Guys I wrote this poem today, hope you like it!

Her eyes whisper innocence,
Her face masks fear.
Her brain tells her to run but her end was near.

Her clothes screamed cheap,
Her hair seemed brutal,
Her mother's picture stood proud,
As she prayed to be that beautiful.

Her lips were bare,
Her skin colorless,
Her expression strong,
As if she was fearless.

Her heart stolen,
Never returned.
Broken and stomped and blaze with fire,
Which no one stopped with care and desire.

Her mind made up, nothing could change,
Her decision locked, she would never be the same.
Her body limp and cold as she was laid in the case,
Her story never told till this day, but one which no person could ever erase.

Ok I'm just gonna make this up now. Tell me if you want me to continue.

The world spun, the leaves flying off the branches, littering the ground. The wind blowing through my hair, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. His calm voice full of fear and worry at my condition, sprawled on the ground, my face full of soot and feet bare and vulnerable to the knife the man has. I hear ropes being tugged at, before a scream ends my concentration on his soft face, my vision blurred before darkening.

Maybe I should start from the beginning.......

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