To Lauren Keane, memory of her parents’ funeral was a blur. There were memories like that of her baby-sitter waking her late at night, telling her what happened; how they had died in a car crash, hit by a drunk. He walked away from the crash unhurt. Also staying with the neighbors before the funeral. Then the funeral itself; people dressed in black and crying and telling her things would be all right. She remembered little more of the service than that, but she did remember two other things: watching the caskets being lowered into the ground and the woman who came to see her.

It was towards the end of the funeral while she was standing with the neighbors she had been staying with and her parents’ lawyer when that the old woman came up to them. She introduced herself as Lauren’s grandmother, Lavinia A. Carver, and only living family. After she talked with the lawyer a while they told Lauren that she was to go live with Lavinia. Lauren was unsure about this somber looking old woman dressed in black, but she had no choice except to go with her.

Lavinia lived in a large, old style house. It was three stories and was surrounded by a beautiful, jungle like garden of herbs and flowers. Towering willow trees made it seem as though the yard was inside rather than out. On the sunny side of the house lilacs bloomed and their sweet perfume would fill the air. The yard was so thick with plants and flowers that they had choked out all the grass. There was only a small path leading from house to the sidewalk that was kept clear of plants. Lauren loved to play in the garden, which was allowed as long as she kept herself clean. Lavinia liked for her to weed while she was outside. She would make it into a game pretend that she was an explorer in the jungle gathering samples or a princess in a magical garden saving plants and animals from evil weeds.

The inside of the house was very different. Throughout most of the house the walls had off white wall paper with small flower prints and maple wanes coating. There were many paintings of portraits, landscapes, and seascapes on the walls, but no photographs. The floors were hardwood and their were area rugs. All the furniture was heavy wood or upholstered and in each of the three bedrooms on the second floor was a large four-poster bed. On the main floor was the kitchen, parlor, dining room, sitting room, and a small library filled with what Lavinia called educational books. There was a cellar and that is where canned goods were stored. There was also an attic which was used for storage. Things were kept impeccably clean and everything had a place and was in it. Part of living there, as Lauren quickly learned, was keeping it clean. It was her job to once a day go through all the rooms and make sure that they were clean of dust and that everything was in order. She turned this into a game too. She was a slave and if she didn’t work she would be beaten, but if she did her job well she would be set free.

Lavinia was unlike anyone Lauren had ever know. She had been wearing black to the funeral, but now Lauren saw that she wore black all the time. She was also very set in her ways. They were to bed by nine and up at five every morning; getting out of bed in the middle of the night for any reason was unacceptable. Every night at six they listened to news on the radio, Lavinia didn’t own a television. Meals were at the exact same time everyday as was her evening cup of tea which she said “calmed her nerves.”

Things were quite different living with her. Lauren’s parents had always liked to laugh and sing, but Lavinia said that silence was golden; also that children were to be seen, not heard. Lauren was not allowed to answer the door or the phone. She was also not allowed outside without permission. There was a long list of strict rules and if Lauren broke any of them there was a severe punishment. Before she had gone to public school, but Lavinia insisted that she was home schooled. Most of the time in her days was spent studying and reading. Lavinia would often give her a surprise quiz on what she was studying at the time, whatever that may have been. Lauren quickly learned to study well and memorize every book she read or face Lavinia’s wrath. She looked like a frail old woman but she was surprisingly strong.

Every Sunday morning they walked to church. It was about the only time Lauren was ever allowed out of the yard. She relished every moment. She knew the route by heart and could probably walk it in her sleep. She also knew every detail of every building between the house and the church. However because of Lavinia’s brisk walking pace the walk never seemed to last and Lauren longed to be away from the house and yard more.

One Sunday afternoon as they were walking home from church Lauren had a great request. Nervously she said, “Lavinia?” She was not allowed to call her “Grandmother.”

“Yes child?” Lavinia spoke in an emotionless monotone that was barely above a whisper so you had to listen very carefully to her and her face never revealed what emotion she was feeling.

She averted her green-grey eyes and studied the ground, it was hard for her to make a request like this. “May I please, not now but sometime, go to the library?”

“To the library?” Lavinia questioned and for a moment Lauren thought that she would hit her right there on the street. Lauren was terrified of what would happen next and she knew that Lavinia was studying her, deciding what that was. “I suppose so. Books are educational after all and you do seem to go through them rather quickly. All right, on Monday morning you may go to the library.” Lauren was amazed, she wasn’t going to get hit, Lavinia wasn’t upset.

The next day she did go to the library. What amazed her even more than Lavinia letting her go to the library was that Lavinia did not go with her. It was the most freedom she had known since coming to live with Lavinia. From that day on every Monday she walked the four blocks to the library.

Books opened up a whole new world to Lauren that she had never know. The books at the library were not the boring novels that Lavinia had. These books spoke to her. Her favorites were adventure stories. That is until she found Charles Dickens. She must have read Oliver Twist over a hundred times. Lavinia seemingly approved. There were some books that she knew Lavinia wouldn’t approve of at the library. After reading authors like Steinbeck, Bach, and others her head was filled with radical thoughts that she would have never dreamed of thinking. Those she would read in there and not check out. If Lavinia found out she was doing this she would never let her go to the library again. It was worth it though to read those stories.

That summer when Lauren would walk to the library she could see other children her age outside playing. She passed girls skipping rope and playing hopscotch and boys playing baseball and riding bikes. At times she wished she could join them, but she could never ask Lavinia to let her go play. She would say that young ladies should not play and get dirty. She also said that cleanliness was next to godliness.

One day as she was walking to the library, carrying some books, she met a small group of boys all about her age, nine or ten, walking the other direction on the same side of the street. Politely she moved out of their way to let them by. They didn’t go by, instead they stopped and began to ask were she was going. It had been a long time since anyone except Lavinia had spoken to her and she was very shy and didn’t answer. She tried to continue on her way.

They followed her down the street and started teasing her. They called her a dummy and a mute and tried to get her to talk. The more they teased though the more closed mouthed she was. They followed her all the way to the library pestering her more and more. They pulled her strawberry blond hair and tried to take her books. She was afraid of them. They were all bigger than her even though they were starting to get to the age where most girls were taller than boys. She finally got refuge when she reached the library, they would not go inside. Thankfully they did not wait outside for her. It was not the last time she saw them though. Any time they got the chance they tormented her. As long as she could see refuge in her books Lauren didn’t let it get to her.

One night in late summer Lauren woke to the sound of someone walking around in the attic above her. For a while she listened wondering what it could be. Finally she remembered that Lavinia had asked her to bring a box down from the attic that day. She had gone up there to get the box, but it was very stuffy and musty in there. She opened the only window to let things air out. She had taken the box downstairs, but never closed the window. If Lavinia found out she would be furious. She knew getting out of bed was against the rules, but some how if she didn’t close the window Lavinia would find out and punish her for it. Perhaps if she closed the window now she would never know.

Quiet as a mouse she slipped out of bed and went up the old stairs to the attic. A cold night’s breeze was blowing through the open window and Lauren quickly went and shut it. As she walked back towards the stairs she realized that she was still shivering. Without the breeze it was warm, but something was chilling her. It was very strange and she became very scared all of a sudden. Her eyes darted around the room. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she knew something had to be there. Lauren’s heart was racing and her throat went dry. Her stomach felt empty and pained her slightly. She was not only scared she was terrified. The sound of someone or something walking around up here is what had roused her. At the time she thought it was the wind, but now she was not so sure. Someone was up here with her.

She strained to hear and see, but she saw nothing and the only sound was her frantically pounding heart. Finally in the dim light she saw something. She wasn’t quite sure what it was. It looked, at first, like heat rising off a candle and it seemed to glow. Gradually it started to take shape. For a moment she was so intrigued by it she forgot that she was so terrified. Then she could make out the shape and she was filled with new terror. It was a large, burly man. He was almost transparent though and she could see vaguely through him. His face was cruel, twisted with anger, his eyes like two glossy black beads and he was walking towards her.

She screamed but she couldn’t move as he walked toward her. She closed her eyes as he got close and felt him walk through her. It was a terrible experience and it left her feeling dirty and as if she would throw up. She turned around and saw that it had not been her that the man was after. He was headed strait towards a young woman who was huddled on the ground. Like the man she was almost transparent. She was very pretty, but looked as afraid as Lauren felt. The woman moved her mouth, but no words came out.

Just before the man reached the woman the attic door flung open and they both just disappeared. Lauren was relieved until she saw that it was Lavinia at the door. Now she had something else to be afraid of and she was sure that Lavinia was real.

“What are you doing up here?” Lavinia demanded. Her voice wasn’t it’s normal monotone, but was enraged though the volume had not raised at all.

“I...there was a...and...” Lauren tried, but she couldn’t get it to come out. She was trembling so violently that her whole body was shaking.

“What are you babbling about?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer she grabbed her by the arm and started beating her violently. When she was finished she sent her off to bed again.

In bed Lauren couldn’t find a position to lay that she wasn’t aggravating bruises and welts. She hurt all over and wanted to cry, but didn’t. She didn’t want Lavinia to hear and come to her room. Lavinia said that she wasn’t to leave the house for a week, not that she would have. She didn’t want anyone else to see her swollen, bruised face. She lay in bed not being able to sleep, just thinking. She decided that what she saw in the attic had to be ghosts. She had read about them in books from the library and she was sure that’s what they had to be. Knowing that they were ghosts didn’t make them any less frightening though. She was terrified of the man and even the woman scared her with the way she had spoke, but no words came out. It was all like a terrible nightmare. Unfortunately she would not even begin to wake from this nightmare for nine years.

At eighteen she looked much the same as she did when she was nine. She was still thin and petite, and still smaller than any boys her age. Her strawberry blond hair still long and her eyes still green-grey. She had matured though and there was no question of her age. Her life had not changed much though. She still went to church on Sundays with Lavinia and to the library on Mondays. Lavinia would still beat her if she vexed her, which wasn’t often anymore. She had learned to be meek, mild, and do whatever Lavinia said. She never questioned her and never talked back. At least the boys in the neighborhood didn’t tease or pester her anymore.

She did though still see ghosts. She knew of three ghosts now. The man, who still terrified her, the woman, and now a child. She was a cute little girl and Lauren often saw her at the foot of the attic stairs playing with imaginary toys or sometimes in the attic with the woman. For some reason only the child ever left the attic. Lauren was very grateful that the man didn’t leave the attic.

At the library one day in late fall Lauren was sitting at one of the tables reading Howard Zinn’s A People's History of the United States when a boy about her age sat down across the table from her. She glanced up from her book only once but her keen eyes took in every detail of him. He was tall, even sitting down, and lean, but well muscled. She guessed that he was an athlete. He had light brown hair and hazel eyes. His face had with well defined lines, but soft angles. He looked slightly familiar. Shakespeare would have called him a man of wax, she thought finding her place again and almost forgetting about him.

“Excuse me,” he said and she looked up at him again. “You aren’t by any chance taking Mr. Hallowood’s history class are you?” She shook her head and looked back to her book, but he spoke again forcing her to look up again. “Reading A People’s History I would have thought you were.”

“No, just like reading it,” she said simply and quietly.

“I can’t see how anyone could enjoy it,” he said and was quickly losing her interest. He changed the subject. “I haven’t seen you around school. Are you new?”

“No, I don’t attend public school.”

“By the way my name’s Brent.” He extended his hand to her. She shook it and said, “I’m Lauren.”

“Well Lauren you certainly seem to have a great academic appetite.”

She shrugged, “I like to read.” She wanted to get back to her book, but she knew it wasn’t polite while he was talking to her.

“I can see that. You also seem to like history.” She waited for him to go on. He did. “I was wondering if maybe you could help me out with that. I’m not so good at history and finals are coming up.”

She though about that for a moment. As she did she studied him. She knew him from somewhere. Finally she said, “I don’t think my grandmother would like that very much.”

“Come on, it would just be once a week and I could pay you if you’d like.” He smiled at her. “If you don’t think your grandmother would like that it’s not like you’d have to tell her that you were helping a poor soul pass history.”

She had a week spot for “poor souls.” Oliver Twist was still her favorite book. She had to help him. “You don’t have to pay me, I’ll help you out. Just be here on Monday’s at four.”

He smiled at her again. “You’re a saint Lauren.”

At that moment she remembered where she knew him from and said, “I remember you now. You just live down the street from me. You and your friends used to tease me when I walked by.” He blushed looking very embarrassed and utterly sheepish. The situation reminded her of Dickens’ Great Expectations and she had to smile. “Don’t worry, no hard feelings. It was a long time ago and you were just a child.”

She began to tutor Brent and they became fast friends. They continued to see each other on Mondays even after he passed his history class. She could talk to him about lots of things and found that he too had a love of books. She couldn’t talk to him about Lavinia or the ghosts in her house, but most other things she could. She knew that he thought she was sort of odd, but he didn’t seem to care.

Almost a year after they met Brent started going to the local college, but since it was close they still stayed good friends. They didn’t see each other as often though because besides going to college he had also gotten a job. So they only saw each other a few times a month. It was comfortable arrangement though and Lauren was content with the way things were.

That is until a fateful night in spring when everything changed forever. She woke and had a strange feeling almost like déjà vu, but different. As she got out of bed she felt as if she was dreaming and had no control of her limbs. She walked from her room and went to the attic. Was this a dream? Was she remembering the time she had come up here at night as a child?

She heard someone calling softly, “James, James, Jimmy? Are you here?” Then she realized that it was her voice calling. She tried to stop, she tried to put a hand over her mouth, she tried to go back to her room. She couldn’t. She wasn’t in control of body anymore. She cocked her head as if she had heard a noise, but there was no sound. She turned and saw the ghost of the child on the stairs and she said to it, “Sarah-Anne go downstairs and wait for me.”

Then she turned away from ghost and started calling for James again. Suddenly the ghost of the man appear right by her. Before she knew what was happening he hit her with the back of his hand and she was scrambling away, but she tripped and fell. She was huddled on the ground just as the woman’s ghost had been. She was crying, “Please James no!”

“Whore,” he spat at her and his speech was slurred as if he had been drinking. “Who have you been sleeping with?”

“No one I swear to you my husband. You’re the only one for me,” she cried.

“Liar I’ll kill you,” he said and started toward’s her just as she had seen him do before. She had to get out of there now. He would kill her.

She shook her head violently and she realized her body was responding to what she wanted it to do. Without another thought she got to her feet and ran from the attic. At the bottom of the stairs was the ghost child, but she paid it no attention. She ran to her room and quickly pulled on some clothes. She couldn’t stay in this house any longer. That ghost would have killed her. If she wasn’t killed staying in this house would make her go mad if she wasn’t already.

Dressed she fled the house. Outside in the dark though she didn’t know where to go. There was only one person she could turn to. She ran the two blocks to Brent’s house. There she went around to the backside of the house and grabbed a hand full of pebbles. She started throwing them at his window and after a while the light came on and she saw him in the window. A minute later he was outside with her. Before he could even ask why she was there she started breaking down and said franticly, “I can’t stay in that house. I can’t stay with Lavinia. I can’t live with those people in the attic.”

“Calm down,” he said putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re rambling.”

She took a deep breath and told him everything. About the ghosts, Lavinia’s ill treatment of her, everything. By the time she was finished she was trembling and physically and emotionally drained.

“It’s going to be all right,” he assured her. “What do you want to do?”

She thought for a while. She had no money or formal schooling, she had been totally dependant her whole life. She did have her inheritance from her parents but she didn’t have access to it until she was twenty-one. She turned twenty-one in a little over a week. Could she stand to stay in that house another week? She would have to.

She arranged it with Brent and it was all set that as soon as she had access to her inheritance he would take her away from there. She didn’t care where they went. She just wanted to get away and she was very grateful to Brent for helping her get away.

The next week went by very slowly. Lauren was afraid every night of going to sleep for fear that she would be possessed again. Maybe this time she wouldn’t be able to get away before the man, James, killed her.

Finally her birthday came and that day instead of going to the library she went to the bank and withdrew her inheritance. That evening she packed and waited for Lavinia to fall asleep. When she was finally sure that Lavinia was asleep she snuck out of her room and downstairs to the back door. Lavinia was waiting for her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked barring the way.

“I can’t stay here Lavinia.”

“And why is that?”

“There are ghosts in this house and if I stay they will kill me.”

“You have no need to fear them,” Lavinia said and Lauren was shocked that she knew of them.

“Who are they?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“My twin sister, Lucial, her husband, James and their daughter, Sarah-Anne. James killed Lucial and Sarah-Anne before committing suicide,” she said and Lauren wondered how she could remain so emotionless. “But he can’t hurt you now, he’s dead.” Lauren shook her head. She didn’t believe her. “Why don’t I show you?”

She grabbed Lauren by the arm and dragged her up two flights of stairs to the attic and threw her inside. She closed and locked the door behind her. In the attic the same scene was being played out. Lucial was on the ground pleading with James not to kill her and he was bearing down on her. It was just as Lavinia said.

Suddenly a knife appeared in Lucial’s hand and she stood and plunged it into James’ chest. She pulled the knife out and slit his throat in one swift swing. Lauren was aghast. James fell and Lucial pulled the knife from him and she licked the ghost blood from it. There was a crazed look in her eyes as she called for Sarah-Anne. The little girl walked right through the locked door and went to her mother. Seeing her slain father though she stopped before she reached her and started to cry. Lucial leapt for her and stabbed the little girl over and over again. Then in one swift motion she turned the knife on herself. When all three were dead their ghost bodies disappeared.

Lauren was horrified. Lucial had been crazy. For the first time in her life she realized that Lavinia was crazy too. She knew then that the ghosts weren’t the real reason she was running away it was because she had lived with a crazy, abusive grandmother most of her life and she didn’t want to take it anymore.

She went to the attic window and looked out. She could tell that she could climb out of it and she could reach a trellis that was on the side of the house. She climbed out the window and down the trellis. Brent was waiting for her in his car just around the corner. He asked her what had taken so long and she said she would tell him on the way and gave him directions to the cemetery where her parents were buried. She wanted to pay them final respects before she left forever.

At the cemetery she visited her parents graves and Brent pointed three others out to her. Those of Lucial, James and Sarah-Anne. As Brent studied those graves Lauren looked around and bit and she saw something that made all the color drain from her face. She started screaming mad screams and sobbing, her first real tears in twelve years. Brent rushed to her side and saw what had caused her fit. It was a simple tombstone, plain except for three lines of writing. It read: