Read Online Almost Dead (Dead, #1) by Rebecca A. Rogers - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rebecca A. Rogers
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there,” she says, pointing toward the ceiling. you Ceilder to If you can’t move objects around to warn your family, or even write a note, how will they know?”
Writing never occurred to me. Can ghosts do that?
“Wait a second … I can scribble notes?”
Sara nods and says, “Though your family may believe it’s not you, you have to prove it is. Tell them something only they know.”
“Yeah. That’ll freak them out. I’m missing, and then weird messages appear on the refrigerator.”
“This isn’t a joke, Laney.” Sara’s serious tone catches me off-guard.
I shake my head. “I don’t mean for it to be, but put yourself in their place. Wouldn’t you be a little creeped out?”
“You can decide later whether you want to use messages to communicate, or whether you will attempt to move objects. It’s your choice , but I have to get back to Flora.” Sara gives me an I’m-sorry look. “I hope you understand.”
Oh, I understand all right. I understand that she’s not bothering to waste her time on someone who sucks at manipulating items . Instead, she’s centering her attention on someone who’s actually good at it. Never mind that I can breeze through walls, which is ten times more awesome. Whatever. I don’t have time for this.
I crawl under the covers and play invisible until I no longer hear Sara and Flora’s whispered conversations. But then an idea hits me as hard as the time I stepped outside during one of Chase’s backyard football games to let him know dinner was ready and the football struck my head: I’ll grab a random object and, as soon as I open the front door, I’ll throw it outside. It’s going to drop from my hand, anyway, but at least it’s something I can practice with. And I definitely need to practice. Maybe if I can show Sara I’m just as good as Flora, she’ll let me go to the Shadowlands first. I was, after all, the first to own walking through walls and moving my hand through a table.
Sliding out from underneath the covers and s natching a book from the stack in my room, I blow off the dust, because Sara’s obviously too busy to clean. Half expecting my door to creak open, like in scary movies, I squint, preparing for the worst-case scenario. Nothing happens.
I slink across the wooden floorboards of Sara’s cabin and…no creaks, no groans, just smooth gliding. Apparently, ghosts don’t create sounds when they’re trying to be sneaky. Hopefully, my idea will work; I’ve had all afternoon to devise a plan. But the weaker I become, the harder it is for me to concentrate.
The flames crackle in the stone fireplace and every few seconds emit a loud pop . I jump. Plus, my stomach is flipping out. What if Sara catches me? What if we’re not supposed to be out late? Maybe there are evil ghosts lurking in the bushes.
A shiver C"+0 la ting les up my spine as I dismiss that mental image.
Twisting the knob and slowly opening the door, I toss the book out into the mist. I have no clue where it landed, just that it’s somewhere in front of me. I’m going to learn this before tomorrow. Good thing ghosts don’t really require sleep.
Soundlessly, I close the door. I always thought spirits like being creepy and scaring people with their rusty doors and strange noises, but now I know they don’t do any of that unless they need attention. It’s kind of sad, in a way. And desperate.
“Where are you, book?” I whisper. Fog continues to pass by. Waves of ashen sheets break into various directions as they collide into my legs. Moving my hands back and forth doesn’t work, as they run straight through. With the intense haze steadily moving, this is going to be ten times more difficult.
Sara had said I need to focus all my energy on the object. With my body growing more fragile, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to practice . I do know that if I can’t learn this exercise, I’ll be stuck in Lichburn while Flora spends her merry time up top.
The thought of Flora
Writing never occurred to me. Can ghosts do that?
“Wait a second … I can scribble notes?”
Sara nods and says, “Though your family may believe it’s not you, you have to prove it is. Tell them something only they know.”
“Yeah. That’ll freak them out. I’m missing, and then weird messages appear on the refrigerator.”
“This isn’t a joke, Laney.” Sara’s serious tone catches me off-guard.
I shake my head. “I don’t mean for it to be, but put yourself in their place. Wouldn’t you be a little creeped out?”
“You can decide later whether you want to use messages to communicate, or whether you will attempt to move objects. It’s your choice , but I have to get back to Flora.” Sara gives me an I’m-sorry look. “I hope you understand.”
Oh, I understand all right. I understand that she’s not bothering to waste her time on someone who sucks at manipulating items . Instead, she’s centering her attention on someone who’s actually good at it. Never mind that I can breeze through walls, which is ten times more awesome. Whatever. I don’t have time for this.
I crawl under the covers and play invisible until I no longer hear Sara and Flora’s whispered conversations. But then an idea hits me as hard as the time I stepped outside during one of Chase’s backyard football games to let him know dinner was ready and the football struck my head: I’ll grab a random object and, as soon as I open the front door, I’ll throw it outside. It’s going to drop from my hand, anyway, but at least it’s something I can practice with. And I definitely need to practice. Maybe if I can show Sara I’m just as good as Flora, she’ll let me go to the Shadowlands first. I was, after all, the first to own walking through walls and moving my hand through a table.
Sliding out from underneath the covers and s natching a book from the stack in my room, I blow off the dust, because Sara’s obviously too busy to clean. Half expecting my door to creak open, like in scary movies, I squint, preparing for the worst-case scenario. Nothing happens.
I slink across the wooden floorboards of Sara’s cabin and…no creaks, no groans, just smooth gliding. Apparently, ghosts don’t create sounds when they’re trying to be sneaky. Hopefully, my idea will work; I’ve had all afternoon to devise a plan. But the weaker I become, the harder it is for me to concentrate.
The flames crackle in the stone fireplace and every few seconds emit a loud pop . I jump. Plus, my stomach is flipping out. What if Sara catches me? What if we’re not supposed to be out late? Maybe there are evil ghosts lurking in the bushes.
A shiver C"+0 la ting les up my spine as I dismiss that mental image.
Twisting the knob and slowly opening the door, I toss the book out into the mist. I have no clue where it landed, just that it’s somewhere in front of me. I’m going to learn this before tomorrow. Good thing ghosts don’t really require sleep.
Soundlessly, I close the door. I always thought spirits like being creepy and scaring people with their rusty doors and strange noises, but now I know they don’t do any of that unless they need attention. It’s kind of sad, in a way. And desperate.
“Where are you, book?” I whisper. Fog continues to pass by. Waves of ashen sheets break into various directions as they collide into my legs. Moving my hands back and forth doesn’t work, as they run straight through. With the intense haze steadily moving, this is going to be ten times more difficult.
Sara had said I need to focus all my energy on the object. With my body growing more fragile, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to practice . I do know that if I can’t learn this exercise, I’ll be stuck in Lichburn while Flora spends her merry time up top.
The thought of Flora
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