Waiting Spirits by Bruce Coville

Author:Bruce Coville
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781497668539
Publisher: Open Road Media

Lisa sat at the desk in her father’s office, trying to make sense of the page she was supposed to be typing. She had no idea what it said. Her father’s handwriting was pretty bad to begin with. Add to that the penciled in changes and the damage from the water, and the page was almost impossible to decipher. She was beginning to regret having volunteered for this job—especially since it was such a sunny day outside.

Plink!

She looked to her right. A drop of greenish water had appeared on the table.

Plink! Another drop struck the first, causing a small splash. Plink! Plink! Plink! Three more drops fell in rapid succession, forming the beginnings of a small puddle in the middle of the desk. Lisa frowned. Pond water again. The smell was uncomfortably familiar. She recognized it at once as the odor she had detected when she first woke that morning.

“Daddy?”

No answer. She forgot; for once her father was taking a break. He had gone to the beach with the others. She was alone in the house.

Plink!

This time the water splashed on Lisa. She flinched back as if she had been scalded. For some reason she didn’t want it to touch her.

She pushed herself away from the desk. Gathering up the three pages she had already typed, she ran from the room. She slipped and nearly fell in a puddle of greenish water that lay in the hall.

“Mom? Dad?” Her voice was urgent, tinged with fear, though what she was afraid of she could not have said. She ran down the stairs.

The smell of smoke filled the living room. Dropping the papers, she began a frantic search for the source of it.

She found nothing.

Suddenly she stopped her search and stood bolt upright. The sound of crackling flames filled the room.

The smoky odor grew stronger.

Lisa looked around, her eyes wide with fear. What was going on?

She heard something in the hallway above her and held her breath, straining to catch the sound. It was the voice of the weeping woman. She was calling softly, “Carrie? Carrie, where are you? I’m coming, Carrie!”

Lisa turned and bolted from the house, slamming the door behind her. She was panting as if she had just run a mile. What was going on inside seemed impossible out here in the daylight.

She turned back. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door.

A blast of heat struck her in the face.

She screamed and slammed the door, then raced down the driveway as if the Hounds of Hell were at her heels.

As she ran she looked back over her shoulder to see if she was being followed—then suddenly hit something solid. A moment later she was lying on the gravel of the driveway, aching in half a dozen places.

Brian was lying next to her.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked angrily, standing and dusting himself off. He was wearing cutoff jeans, and had scraped one knee badly when he fell.

Then he saw the expression on her face. “Hey,” he said, kneeling and taking her by the shoulders.

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