The Nursery

You may have seen this on fanfiction.net. That's mine as well. From Cordria's profile, quoted from the actual summary-"Feel free to steal the ideas and turn them into actual stories."

Chapter 1

The Nursery

by: Ardelia
Doreen Johnson was a lady in the early nineteenth century who was murdered

by her husband for insurance money. Tucker and Danny had always wondered

about the screams they had heard coming from the old house. They finally

decided to investigate.Tucker sat in the corner of the room, feet splayed out

before him, his head bent attentively over a small, thin box held in his hands.

The only source of illumination in the room was the tiny LCD screen imbedded

in the box. A grin flittered across his face as tiny, rather soft beeping noises

filled the room.Occasionally, he would glance up from his toy to scan the room.

After each scan,he would shake his head and then continue with his game.

The soft beepings and whirings of the game became an odd sort of lullaby not

quite suited to the ancient nursery he was currently occupying. Even though

this third-floor room was created for children, dust covered every surface.

Cobwebs snaked from the ceiling. Spiders and small critters inhabited the

darkened recesses of long-forgotten toys. The boy,playing with his game, was

quite alone. Until, rather suddenly, he was not. A woman was walking through

the room, a sad, distant smile on her face. Her gaze passed over the filth, the

insects, and the brokenness of the room, her eyes never lingering on the

dangling spider webs. She ghosted over to one of the shattered cribs,her pale

fingers delicately stretching out to touch an unseen child

Although the woman made no sound, her thin body never creaking the rotting

floor boards, her slippered feet never stirring the thick layers of dust, her

shallow breathing not even a whisper in the stillness of the night

Tucker looked up. Perhaps it was the chill wind that had invaded the room, or

perhaps it was the eerie silence that had seemed to stifle the happy sounds of

his game. Whatever the reason, the boy smiled vaguely at the sight of the lady

in the long, white robe.He watched as the lady stood up from the remains of

the crib and drifted over to the bed along the other wall. The bed's coverings

and mattress were long gone; the skeleton of the bed frame the only thing left

to loom eerily in the night-shrouded room. She paused in front of the bed,

gazing sorrowfully down at the time-worm object. In her eyes, the bed was not

a collection of metal braces that had been lost to time. It was a child's

bed,covered in a soft, hand-made quilt, a down pillow plopped at one end, the

metal burnished to shine even at night. She smiled down at a child only she

could see, reaching out to pull the quilt up around the child's shoulders.He set

down his game, the LCD screen lighting up the area around him. He picked up

along, narrow tube with antenna coming out of the end and pointed it in her

direction. His face took on an odd, green cast as the tube's screen

momentarily lit up, displaying the results of the scan. Carefully, he set the tube

back down and turned to watch the lady in white continue her routine.A morose

smile crossed his face as the woman moved from her eldest child's bed to the

delicate crib that had once held her youngest. She leaned over the dust

enveloped object, her ancient eyes taking in the sleeping form of the tiny infant.

Silently, her mouth moved, an archaic lullaby being sung unheard to a baby

that no longer existed.Slowly she reached into the cradle, picking up her

bundle of life. To the boy in the corner,it looked as though the lady hadn't

picked up anything, but he said nothing as she rocked the armful of air back

and forth, her mouth moving steadily in her noiseless melody. She drifted over

towards the closed glass doors that lead out to a tiny porch, not noticing the

cracks and the grime as she neared.The boy stood up to follow as she walked

straight through the fractured glass, carrying her remembered infant with her to

stand by the splintered railing. He carefully pushed open the door, gazing

through the opening as the woman waited in the night. She stood there for a

moment, rocking back and forth on her heels, staring out at a hundred-year-old

sky. Stars speckled her vision, a full moon lighting the memory of a forest of

trees and a calm lake. The boy, however, could only see the thick clouds and

the harsh lines of the modern city.He waited, silent, as she closed her eyes

and leaned over the shattered remains of the railing. The phantom of a smile

drifted across her face as a nonexistent wind pushed at her translucent hair.

Cradling her beloved child in one arm, she used the other arm to lever herself

farther up onto the thin, wood slats."You're dead. Your children are dead. You

have no reason to stay on this plane any longer." He said. The lady paid no

attention. As if a switch had been thrown, the sound began to drift in on the

wind. The boy blinked as he listened to her forgotten lullaby, mixed with a

distant laughter. She smiled down at her baby, swiveling around so that she

was sitting on the railing facing the nursery

doors.Her laughter died away as an odd look came to her eyes. "Robbie?" her

voice whispered, slightly out of sync with the movements of her mouth. "What

are you....¦?"Frozen wind gushed through the ancient lullaby as the woman

gasped, her eyes wide.Suddenly, as if she had been pushed by an unseen

hand, the lady toppled off the third-floor balcony and tumbled out of sight. "No!"

her spectral shriek split the air as she plummeted to the ground.The boy eased

out onto the crumbling balcony to look down below. As he had expected,the

body of the woman was no where to be seen. He slipped back into the dusty

nursery and quickly strode across the room. Shivering as the echoes of her

scream pushed at his heart, the boy collected his small collection of

belongings and hurried down the stairs.He pulled out a cell phone as soon as

he was out of the crumbling building and quickly dialed a memorized number.

"Danny?" he asked, his voice still shaking. "She's just an imprint ghost. There's nothing we can do."

Quiet descended on the street as the boy walked down the dark street, listening to his friend."Yeah, I know. When they tear down that building to build some new high-rise, she won't even notice. She'll haunt the third floor thinking it's still her nursery. I tried telling her, but she didn't her me." He turned around to glance up at the balcony where he had just witnessed the woman's murder. "Poor Doreen Johnson." he whispered.Suddenly he blinked and grinned at his phone.

"No, that's not what I said. No, it's not."He laughed softly, the last of her

deathly chill leaving his soul. "How's the studying going?" Danny had a make-up exam in English the next day.

"Imprint" Ghosts - ectoplasmic manifestations that are created due to a

strong,emotional occurrence (usually death) or an action that has been

repeated often enough to create an "imprint" in the area. These imprints cannot

interact with people or the true environment - they merely play out the same

few seconds of time every time they appear. They never deviate. Imprint ghosts

encompass most of the "real life" ghost hauntings. They are also sometimes

called "remnants."

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