Dreh dich nicht um ...
Excerpt
“Did you know of a girl who lived on the property my parents own now? One who was engaged to be married and about to elope? You see, I found her journal.”
The girls looked at each other.
“No,” Anne replied. “We weren’t born yet back then. And my parents never mentioned a girl like that. Probably the girl never told anybody about her plans and never carried them out. Nobody ever knew except her journal.”
“Either that or she was one of the unlucky ones who was killed.” Betty added.
“Wouldn’t you know her name then?” Sylvia pressed.
“Not if she was never found.” Anne wet her lips. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Sylvia shook her head.
“Sometimes at night when it’s real still and the moon is full you think you see things around here. To tell you the truth, sometimes I think I’ve seen a girl next door before your parents arrived. She would go in and out of the cabins. Perhaps it was her.”
Chills went up Sylvia’s spine. She remembered the sense of someone else in the cabin with her, the breeze sweeping past. Yes, maybe it had been the same girl.
Sylvia shut her eyes for a minute. She could feel the life, the love, and the pain of a real girl � for one fleeting moment — now forever vanished. But why was she still walking, haunting the living, if it was indeed her? Was she trying to communicate something to them? Had it been for some reason that she had led Sylvia to her journal? Did she want Sylvia to do something for her?
Sylvia opened her eyes and shook off the abstraction. She closed the album and handed it back to the sisters as her hand trembled — not for the first time that day.
“Did you know of a girl who lived on the property my parents own now? One who was engaged to be married and about to elope? You see, I found her journal.”
The girls looked at each other.
“No,” Anne replied. “We weren’t born yet back then. And my parents never mentioned a girl like that. Probably the girl never told anybody about her plans and never carried them out. Nobody ever knew except her journal.”
“Either that or she was one of the unlucky ones who was killed.” Betty added.
“Wouldn’t you know her name then?” Sylvia pressed.
“Not if she was never found.” Anne wet her lips. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Sylvia shook her head.
“Sometimes at night when it’s real still and the moon is full you think you see things around here. To tell you the truth, sometimes I think I’ve seen a girl next door before your parents arrived. She would go in and out of the cabins. Perhaps it was her.”
Chills went up Sylvia’s spine. She remembered the sense of someone else in the cabin with her, the breeze sweeping past. Yes, maybe it had been the same girl.
Sylvia shut her eyes for a minute. She could feel the life, the love, and the pain of a real girl � for one fleeting moment — now forever vanished. But why was she still walking, haunting the living, if it was indeed her? Was she trying to communicate something to them? Had it been for some reason that she had led Sylvia to her journal? Did she want Sylvia to do something for her?
Sylvia opened her eyes and shook off the abstraction. She closed the album and handed it back to the sisters as her hand trembled — not for the first time that day.
