After the chaotic classroom hours, the orphans were called to the back courtyard. Under the clotheslines, they put clothespins to sheets, obediently listening to Honey. Only her words mattered. She was the only one who didn't scold them, beating them with a cane until blood was drawn. Moreover, the chances of her putting honey on their wounds were immense. When you didn't do something exactly as it should be, she would calmly take you, saying clearly and distinctly:

-Not like that, dear, this is how it's done!

And with that, your smile would return, and your aura of a little devil would die. If you were on the verge of despair, comfort lay in the hands of that angel. Any malice vanished as if it had never been there. Their mistakes no longer meant a punishment to endure later, but it wasn't always like that. The imposed rule was that the overseeing caretaker would administer the punishment, no one else. Today's task was easy, as they relaxed under the sun. Among the white ghosts, the grass moved from side to side. Mey still stretched the sheets, leaning on Ethan's shoulders. She couldn't reach the top, but with a little help, she could manage. Caroline lounged in the grass near the empty plastic basket and looked up at the other two. Since she appeared on the scene, she had taken her place. Jealousy tempted her to do evil, but at what cost? It's not like they didn't spend time together. The fear of finding herself alone and forgotten haunted her. When she woke up in this orphanage, that was the first thing that pierced her heart. Although, beside her was a relative, an older boy named Tim or Tom, they didn't get along. Even before they were sent here, they held a grudge against each other. Among the adults who forgot them, there was always competition. And the players, the chess pieces, represented the two of them. Wanting to be friends, they began complaining about each other. First, both disliked competing, especially burying their heads in things they didn't like. Tim was drawn to music, especially classical, and Caroline to sports, like football, anything involving throwing a ball. Fate, however, twisted their lives until they got the opposite of what they longed for. Their hatred had a small fuse, causing an explosion. Music was for Tim, but he couldn't stand competing against it. He hated music competitions more than anything. Forced to do it, to be enemies on stage was unbearable for him. At the end of the last competition, they met backstage, discussing a strategy. The plan was to show a mistake in the middle. They shook hands, ready to play their final move. The idea went smoothly, resulting in a broken hand for Tim and a ruptured eardrum for Caroline.

–Traitor! Why, for heaven's sake, couldn't you keep your mouth shut?! Caroline sobbed at Tim, who wouldn't give up music.

–Because it's my dream!

–How can it still be? It didn't turn into a nightmare, competing with me?

–Being alone is better, and how could I see you there with that instrument? It didn't suit you! Plus, it was against your will. What's wrong?

–The mistake is that you promised to leave the stage, but you sought to eliminate me.

–You wanted to play football, and we proceeded as we agreed. Isn't the plan enough?

–Yes, and I still want to, but how can you go back to music? Haven't you hurt yourself enough? Shall we try again?

–Oh, understand that if this is what I want to do, stay away from me.

–So was I really a competition for you?

–No! How many times do I have to tell you?

–Why didn't you try to lose? When I probably wouldn't have beaten you.

Tim looked at her in amazement, not knowing what she was talking about, but his soul shattered in two. The wounds on the girl's body extended from her shoulder to the wrists on both hands. Even covered by plasters, one could understand how much they had stung. He regretted not being more careful. His focus was on how to cope with the madness of their competition. Slowly, he withdrew into the world of music again, although he couldn't feel better. Music was the only thing he had left. Their friendship had been buried, and they wouldn't resume anything. The orphanage meant the death penalty for the two of them, refusing to play any games. Thus, they were replaced and forgotten. Caroline befriended Ethan, simply helping him with his pets. She forgot the past, forgot her previous life definitively. The things she did back then didn't interest her anymore. She dreamed of something more beautiful: a freer life, somewhere she didn't have to listen to old ladies with aprons. A curly-haired girl, a little devil named Greta, fluttered a doll in front of her face, similar to one she had, and reached out to study it. She asked her if she wanted to learn how to use voodoo magic. She had read in a book that if you hurt the doll, the person it resembled would suffer at the same time. Their list of people was so long that there wasn't enough paper to write it down. Caroline intended to make one for Tim, revenge sweetened, but it seemed too simple, so she refrained. Mey and Ethan rushed over to them and started talking faster than ever. Enthusiasm mixed with a certain fear, like someone who went too far with a joke.

–Breathe a little. We won't float up like helium balloons.

–The ghost struck again! Summarize the chained story without understanding who did what.

–Did they find someone hanging? Is something burning? Did the earth crack?

–No, no, and no. Keep guessing.

–We give up anyway. Tell us from the beginning.

–The story is that this time she wrote on the steamed mirrors in the caregivers' bathrooms to end the tyrannical treatments and that she would come after them to kill them. Moreover, several were visited by the alleged ghost, asking them to play with her, and they would become dolls like the ones Greta has. The most terrible thing is that a few are missing from the orphanage, and dolls were found in their beds.

–The first part sounds good, here we agree, but playing with a ghost? Since when does it ask for such a thing?

–Oddly enough, she seems very bored with life.

–Oh, she has a fantastic life, terrorizing us.

–We don't have a vacuum cleaner to get rid of her?

–As if we could catch her; she's totally untouchable. She could strangle you now!

–And lose a potential friend? I don't think so.

–Since this ghost madness started, it hasn't touched the attic. Greta brings her up in conversation, accusing Mey and Ethan of incidents.

–What does it matter? She hasn't touched much! If you want her over your face, just ask us, don't provoke us.

–Pff, you don't realize that since she appeared, Vincent's ghost also appeared.

–You're talking nonsense; I'm sure it's just Vincent's ghost, the first one to step into the fireplace room.

The ghost loved slamming doors at night, chasing the staff through the halls, grabbing objects everywhere. Sometimes, it was so violent that many left the lights on or lit candles during storms. Armed with spoons, forks, knives, you would say they were possessed by it. More cunningly, it would turn off the lights, strangle someone, or teleport them outside. These things didn't scare anyone. Crimes existed before. The morning was terrifying. Sweeping and collecting glass, plastic, wood with a small broom and dustpan didn't sit well. They decided to wait for the ghost this time, to find out what it wanted from them. This time, there were only the four of them, each holding a candle. They hissed down the hall after the ghost. On the upper floor, near a window, a white silhouette reflected in the glass. Petrified with fear, they couldn't utter a word.

–Why am I disturb from my beauty sleep? A muffled voice addressed them, not too friendly.

–What do you want from us? What can calm you down?

–Hmmm, leave, leave. This building is my home! The ghost yelled threateningly, then a laugh penetrated their ears, turning its head. Greta was rolling on the floor with laughter, holding a white sheet taken from the courtyard.

–It was close! You almost put us in the grave!

–Oh, come on, it was a harmless joke. You know well who the real ghost is here.

–Get into that filthy room if you feel the need to live until tomorrow.

–Fine, we'll talk later.

The girls breathed a sigh of relief that it was just a foolish prank and decided not to stay there. Ethan followed them, but something grabbed his shoulders. Thinking it was Greta, ready to drive her away again, he turned even paler. The real ghost threw him into the air like a ball.

–Friends, you are my friends!

–Why do you want it so badly?

–A helper to be of use to me... And those were her last words, evaporating into the air.

© BlairAmy
#friends #ghost #inciden #scary #death #story #horrorstory #orphanage #chores #chaos