Here in Spirit
Here is the story in response to shanachie_quill's prompt of 'ghost story'. It's more sweet than spooky, probably to make up for some of the horrible stories I've shared in the past. LOL
“They say she never left,” whispered one child.
“Who?” asked another.
“The teacher that died here ages ago, like before my mom was born or something.”
“Did your mom go to school here?” asked a third child, attracted by the whispers.
“No! That’s not what I’m saying. They say a teacher walks the halls at night and opens all the lockers and the classroom doors looking for children.”
“Why would he do that?” asked the second child.
“She!”
“Why would she do that? Kids are here in the daytime, not at night,” said the second child.
“Ghosts only come out at night.”
“If she opens the doors, who closes them?” asked the third child.
“You’re messing this up,” muttered the first child.
“Break it up ladies,” said an authoritative voice behind them. “You have one more minute to get to class. Do it without running!” she yelled out after them when they scattered at an alarming rate of speed.
A male teacher poked his head out of his now empty classroom.
“Trouble?” he asked.
The female teacher chuckled. “No. It’s just the ghost story again.”
“The what?”
“That’s right. You’re new. Hold on a second and I’ll tell you.”
Once the halls were clear and the bells sounded another round of student vs. teacher interaction, she leaned against his doorjamb and smiled.
“One of the women in the front office supposedly died of a coronary about fifteen years ago,” she said. “I’m told she was a hard worker, the glue of the school at that time, if you know what I mean.” She sighed. “I wish I had met her. Anyway, the students at that time passed on a rumor to new students who came in to the school that she was still here, watching over them. Over the years, the story changed . One year the kids said she could be seen in the girl’s bathroom mirrors. The next, she would shush bullies in the halls. This year it seems she’s attained the rank of teacher and opens all the locker and classroom doors, looking for who knows what.”
“Who opens all the locker and classroom doors?” asked a decidedly male voice behind her.
Stifling a shriek, the woman turned and laughed. “Oh, Mr. Harcliff! You frightened me! I was just telling one of our new teachers about the resident ghost.”
The principal laughed. “That one again? And now the ghost opens up lockers and classrooms at night, huh?” He shook his elderly head gently and grinned. “You know, I knew the woman who died. Her name was Mildred and she was here when I started as principal. She was a good soul - always a hard worker. Always had one more thing to do. I could see her as a very kindly ghost, a very kindly ghost indeed. That said, I think we should redirect these rumors.” He nodded at both of the teachers and set off down the hall once more. “Let’s fill those young minds with knowledge, not ghost stories!” he sang out as he waved absently to them.
“Latrisha, have you seen my pen?” he asked the young cheerful woman behind a huge desk when he entered the main office area. “I seem to have misplaced it yet again.”
She tisked good naturally. “I’m not surprised you loose things, Mr. Harcliff. You really need to clean off your desk. I’m sure it’s sitting right there where you left it.”
“The desk or the pen?” he answered with a wink.
They both laughed and he passed on though a door and closed it behind him.
His desk, solidly standing in the middle of the space, was huge. Normally it was messy. At the moment, it was properly tidied up with his pen neatly placed on the very center of his cleaned off desk planner.
“Bless you. I needed that pen.” He stepped around and sat in the chair. “But don’t do this too often or you’ll spoil me. Oh, and by the way,” he said as he started slitting open the neatly stacked envelopes containing the day’s mail, “ I must have missed closing all the doors this morning. Sorry about that. You always were hard to keep up with.”
A small wind ruffled his hair and he grinned.
“Thanks again, Mildred. What would I do without you?”
“They say she never left,” whispered one child.
“Who?” asked another.
“The teacher that died here ages ago, like before my mom was born or something.”
“Did your mom go to school here?” asked a third child, attracted by the whispers.
“No! That’s not what I’m saying. They say a teacher walks the halls at night and opens all the lockers and the classroom doors looking for children.”
“Why would he do that?” asked the second child.
“She!”
“Why would she do that? Kids are here in the daytime, not at night,” said the second child.
“Ghosts only come out at night.”
“If she opens the doors, who closes them?” asked the third child.
“You’re messing this up,” muttered the first child.
“Break it up ladies,” said an authoritative voice behind them. “You have one more minute to get to class. Do it without running!” she yelled out after them when they scattered at an alarming rate of speed.
A male teacher poked his head out of his now empty classroom.
“Trouble?” he asked.
The female teacher chuckled. “No. It’s just the ghost story again.”
“The what?”
“That’s right. You’re new. Hold on a second and I’ll tell you.”
Once the halls were clear and the bells sounded another round of student vs. teacher interaction, she leaned against his doorjamb and smiled.
“One of the women in the front office supposedly died of a coronary about fifteen years ago,” she said. “I’m told she was a hard worker, the glue of the school at that time, if you know what I mean.” She sighed. “I wish I had met her. Anyway, the students at that time passed on a rumor to new students who came in to the school that she was still here, watching over them. Over the years, the story changed . One year the kids said she could be seen in the girl’s bathroom mirrors. The next, she would shush bullies in the halls. This year it seems she’s attained the rank of teacher and opens all the locker and classroom doors, looking for who knows what.”
“Who opens all the locker and classroom doors?” asked a decidedly male voice behind her.
Stifling a shriek, the woman turned and laughed. “Oh, Mr. Harcliff! You frightened me! I was just telling one of our new teachers about the resident ghost.”
The principal laughed. “That one again? And now the ghost opens up lockers and classrooms at night, huh?” He shook his elderly head gently and grinned. “You know, I knew the woman who died. Her name was Mildred and she was here when I started as principal. She was a good soul - always a hard worker. Always had one more thing to do. I could see her as a very kindly ghost, a very kindly ghost indeed. That said, I think we should redirect these rumors.” He nodded at both of the teachers and set off down the hall once more. “Let’s fill those young minds with knowledge, not ghost stories!” he sang out as he waved absently to them.
“Latrisha, have you seen my pen?” he asked the young cheerful woman behind a huge desk when he entered the main office area. “I seem to have misplaced it yet again.”
She tisked good naturally. “I’m not surprised you loose things, Mr. Harcliff. You really need to clean off your desk. I’m sure it’s sitting right there where you left it.”
“The desk or the pen?” he answered with a wink.
They both laughed and he passed on though a door and closed it behind him.
His desk, solidly standing in the middle of the space, was huge. Normally it was messy. At the moment, it was properly tidied up with his pen neatly placed on the very center of his cleaned off desk planner.
“Bless you. I needed that pen.” He stepped around and sat in the chair. “But don’t do this too often or you’ll spoil me. Oh, and by the way,” he said as he started slitting open the neatly stacked envelopes containing the day’s mail, “ I must have missed closing all the doors this morning. Sorry about that. You always were hard to keep up with.”
A small wind ruffled his hair and he grinned.
“Thanks again, Mildred. What would I do without you?”