Free Ghost Girl in Shadow Bay: A Young Adult Haunted House Mystery by R. Barri Flowers Page A

else."
    As if deaf to her words, the man turned the
shotgun on the woman in bed, who was screaming hysterically.
    Feeling she had to do something, Peyton
sprang toward him, hoping against hope that she could somehow
prevent further tragedy.
    Before she reached him, the shotgun went
off. Peyton faced the bed, petrified at what she expected to
see...
    * * *
    Peyton opened her eyes to darkness. Drenched
in sweat, her heart was racing wildly, throat aching as if she had
been trying to scream with nothing coming out. She'd had another
one of her recurring nightmares. Only this time it was more
terrifying than ever.
    While trying to make sense of it, Peyton was
given a start when, before her very eyes, a girl appeared at the
side of the bed. It was the same girl from the bay, mirror, and her
dreams. The one her father called Caitlyn. She even wore the
nightgown Peyton remembered in the dream. But there was no bloody
hole where she'd been shot.
    Peyton's eyes widened in dismay and she
wondered if she might actually still be asleep. "Are you really
there?" she whispered, afraid to speak louder.
    The girl nodded, but said nothing. Peyton
was still confused. If the girl was a ghost, she wasn't in a
ghostly form. Though there was a definite glow to her against the
backdrop of darkness, Peyton did not consider the girl to be an
apparition. She wanted to reach out and touch her to be sure, but
thought better.
    "Are you Caitlyn?" Peyton sat up. "Weren't
you just in my dream--with your mother, father, and another
man?"
    The girl looked confused, as if Peyton were
speaking in a foreign language.
    "It's you and your parents in that picture
in the attic--am I right?"
    There was no response.
    Peyton was determined to get some answers
before her courage disappeared. "You were the girl in the bay; then
the mirror, right?"
    The girl remained mute.
    "Say something. Please tell me I'm not
imagining all this?"
    The girl favored Peyton with a deadpan look,
but still did not speak.
    "Why are you here?" Peyton asked with
trepidation, not sure she really wanted to know. "What do you want
with me?"
    The girl seemed to ponder this and then
lifted a long, frail arm, pointing her finger at the wall.
    Peyton turned and fixed her eyes on the
words in red that formed on the wall like fire.
    "Yes, I'm Caitlyn. You must help me before
it's too late for all of us."
    "How?" Peyton asked, even as she tried to
come to terms with the fact that she was apparently communicating
with a dead person. "I don't know if I can help you."
    More words suddenly appeared on the
wall.
    "It's the only way to prevent it from
happening all over again."
    "Prevent what?" Peyton tried to play dumb,
but she had a pretty good idea what Caitlyn was talking about. The
dream said it all. Her father had gone berserk and shot her mother,
Caitlyn, and another man.
    But if it really happened in the past, what
can I do to change history?
    Caitlyn held her gaze before moving toward
the door. Peyton wondered if she would open it, go through it, or
what. Instead, when Caitlyn got to the door, she looked back once
more at Peyton, as though a final plea for help, then simply
vanished as though never there.
    Peyton's first thought was that this was all
part of the same weird dream she was unable to escape. Even while
awake. Or was she actually still asleep, but didn't know it?
    Then she realized Caitlyn must have wanted
her to follow her, sort of, into the hall.
    Though frightened of what may be on the
other side of the door, Peyton was more afraid of doing nothing.
She reached over and cut on the lamp. After adjusting her eyes, she
looked at the wall where the chilling words were scribbled. They
were no longer there, which left Peyton wondering whether the whole
thing had only been an illusion or if she was truly losing her
mind.
    Did I really see Caitlyn just now in my
room? How do I know that's even her real name and not just
one my subconscious created?
    Was she really asking me to help her?
    Peyton