The Ghost Child

Going To Shadowridge

I am Luna Whispers. Most people that talk to me regret it for most of their life. And I don't blame them. When I learned to talk at the age of one, I started to see scary people, more commonly known as ghosts. 

I would point at the ghosts and start crying, yelling from the top of my lungs, "Scary people! Strangers!". I was young at the time, but still, my parents thought I was mentally disabled. They often took me to doctors, to try and find out my condition, but none of the doctors had a real answer. 

Some claimed I was just doing it to try to scare my parents or that I just had an overactive imagination. Some said I was hallucinating. My parents would give me different medicines, specific foods, and special treatments. 

They would put me on strange diets and would make me talk to strange people. Then, one day, when I was around 4, a person came to my house. Now, I wasn't sure if this person was a ghost or not, but there was something off about her.

Her forehead was a bit too wide, her shoulders a bit too broad. Her eyes were a bit too large, and teeth were a bit too sharp. Her hair was a bit too long and her voice was a bit too high. Her nails were a bit too circular and her hands were a bit too small.

She couldn't have been a ghost, because my parents talked to her. I heard bits and pieces of their conversation, and from the sound of it, they were talking about me. She told my parents of a doctor who may have solved my problem. 

She sat with us for dinner. Unfortunately, it was the last dinner I ever had with my mother and father. I remember falling asleep at the table and waking up in at the police station.

A kind man with a deep voice explained, "I'm sorry, little Luna, but your parents have been hurt, and that...made them sleep. They will sleep for an extremely long time, alright? But I promise that Mother Potts here will keep you safe. Now, we cleaned out your room and we got all of your stuff in that big box, right there. Now I want you to pick your favorite things and pack them in the bag right there. Mother Potts will help you, alright?"

I gave him a small nod of approval and walked over to the box. A woman who looked around the same age my mother was, came with me. She had beautiful, long locks of bright red hair. Her face was nearly pale, sprinkled with freckles and emerald green eyes.

"I'm Mother Potts. I'm sure Wilson told you. I will watch over you for the time being. Now while we look through your stuff, would you please answer a question of mine?"

I nodded.

"Do you know any of any aunts, uncles, or cousins you may have?"

"Only Big Uncle Barry and Auntie Martha..."I mumbled.

"Alright, thank you..."Mother Potts said, looking over at Wilson. She had a face of worry. I heard them whispering:

"Wilson, her aunt, and uncle...weren't they also... you know..."

"Darn, it's so weird. First her parents, and then the psychopath went for her only living relatives. They were also taken..."

"But why, Wilson, why?"

"We aren't so sure why...that evil monster's motives were highly unclear."

"The child, Wilson. She was the only survivor. The poor girl never did a thing wrong."

"Actually, we aren't so sure..."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"She claims to see ghosts. Doctors have tried to find a solution, but the only thing they could come up with was her being...mentally...unwell."

"No, not her. She's a sweetheart, and I swear, I will care for her until she is put somewhere safe with someone who will love her as much as possible."