Make Some Magic by Morgana Best

Author:Morgana Best [Best, Morgana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781922420541
Publisher: Best Cosy Books

Chapter 13

I drove back to Hillgrove. I went straight to the Hillgrove museum to see if it would supply any clues of the evil entity. I figured it was a long shot, but it was as good a place to start as any. This time, there was a car parked down at one end of the museum, so I parked my car at the other end, under a tree, after rolling down the windows as the day had turned hot. The weather in this part of the country was highly unpredictable, but for the moment it was hot and my car’s air conditioning wasn’t working.

I walked down the pathway to the old white building and, once inside the little ante room, made the gold coin donation. A gruff looking man appeared at the doorway leading into the main room of the museum. I jumped.

“Did you pay?” His voice was accusatory.

“Yes, I just put the money in that box.” I pointed to the honour box on the bench.

“Are you here to look at the museum?”

I bit back the overwhelming urge to say something sarcastic. Why else would I be there? I simply said, “Yes.”

The man scowled at me and went back into the museum. I wandered around the main room of the museum, relieved that, this time, I wasn’t aware of any ghosts of children haunting the old school house. Perhaps the gruff man had scared them away. Nevertheless, the man was keeping an eye on me. I decided on the direct approach.

“Hi, my name’s Misty Friday. Are you the curator of the museum?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, Samuel Groves. I’m the curator of the Hillgrove Rural Life and Industry Museum, which is its proper name.”

I was encouraged by the fact that his tone was less unpleasant. “Hillgrove is an old place. There must be lots of ghosts here.”

The man simply mumbled to himself.

I pressed on. “Have you heard of ghost sightings here? Or heard of bad things happening?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m a journalist for a paranormal magazine. I’m writing a story on the ghosts here in Hillgrove and Bakers Creek Falls.” I wasn’t getting anywhere with the man so thought it wouldn’t hurt to give him that information.

“You can’t use my name,” he snapped.

I hurried to reassure him. “Oh no, of course not. Whatever you say will be completely anonymous. Do you know anything about any ghosts around here?”

He walked to look out one of the large sash windows at the back of the building and I followed. “What sort of ghosts?” he asked.

“Well, any sort really,” I said. “Is there an evil presence or anything bad around these parts?”

“Could be. Why do you want to find it?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t want to find ghosts as such. I just have to write about them.”

He simply looked at me before walking across the room and then out of the building altogether.

I stood there, in front of a group of Freemasons’ photographs, shaking my head. That didn’t go so well, I thought.

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