The Ghost Behind The Wall by Melvin Burgess

Author:Melvin Burgess [Burgess, Melvin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

7

A Conversation with the Ghost

That night, David heard crying again. The ghost boy was weeping in a thin, quiet way to itself, as if it didn’t know or care if anyone heard it. The sound was clearer and louder than before, as if the ghost was becoming more real every time he went into the ducts. David sat up in bed to listen.

“What’s wrong?” whispered David. The ghost didn’t answer, but the sobbing became slightly louder. David was sure the boy had heard him.

“Where are you?” David asked again.

The ghost snuffled and a voice from nowhere said, “I’m lost.”

“Lost?” David was puzzled. He looked around and tried to work out where the voice was coming from. “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I’m lost.”

“Well, where do you belong, then?”

“Sod that,” hissed the ghost. David laughed. A swearing ghost! The ghost laughed back.

“Sod that!” said the voice, and this time David could place it. It was coming from the floor by the side of his bed, and when he turned to look, there was the ghost lying there. He was on his side toward the wall, but he had twisted his head around so that David could see his wide, tearstained face breaking out into a laugh as he looked up at him. The face got bigger, and at first David thought he was sitting up, but it wasn’t that. His face was simply getting bigger, wider, closer. Maybe it was just the ghost’s way of getting closer to him, but it made David cry out in fright. Then the laugh faded, and the figure faded with it, and all David could make out was a paleness in the place where the ghost had sat.

“I’m here now,” said the voice softly, and David almost jumped out of bed in fright, because suddenly the voice wasn’t coming from the floor by his bed, but from behind the grille leading to the ducts. There was a pause and then the voice said clearly, “Come in here with me.”

David felt a thrill of fear go up his spine. Go in there—into the night with a ghost? He shook his head.

“Why do you want me to go in there?”

“We can get that old guy.”

“Who are you? What’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name,” said the ghost.

“You must have a name.”

“No name!”

The ghost sounded angry, so David said, “I’ll call you Charlie, then.”

“That’s not my real name.”

The voice seemed to be moving about and it was making David feel odd, trying to talk to someone who only had a shape sometimes. He turned his bedside light on, slipped out of bed, and went to the ducts to peer in. He couldn’t see anything.

“Where are you?” he hissed.

“Here. Sometimes.” The ghost laughed. “Sometimes I’m here and sometimes I’m somewhere else. Come inside. You’ll be able to see me if you come in.”

“Somewhere else where?”

“Somewhere that’s not here.”

“Is that where you come from?”

“I used to be with the others.”

“What others?”

“I don’t know. The others.”

“Where were you with the others?”

“I don’t know.

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