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The Ghost Writer

By L G. Nixon

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1. Look Before You Flush
It’s not every day you get your head stuffed in a toilet.
By a ghost.
Lucy sat on the floor and hammered her fists against the mosaic black-and-white tile, one
leg on either side of the ceramic bowl in the girls’ bathroom. Her lips formed a tight thin line, and her hair dripped rivulets of water down her cheeks. Behind her, the soap dispensers oozed a gelatinous goo onto the floor, the old-style taps gushed water into the stoppered sinks, and the paper towel dispensers expelled their contents like confetti. A roll of toilet paper floated through the air, wrapping itself around the stall door like gift wrapping.
The apparition peeping over the top of the stall was solid enough to see. The teenage girl ghost giggled and tossed the empty paper tube aside. She tilted her head to one side, waggled her fingers, and flew through the stall door, disappearing through the opposite wall. The paper tube rolled across the floor and lodged in a soap puddle.
“Son of a buck snort!” Lucy swiped her hands across her face and flung water droplets into the air. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Schuyler burst into the room and slid to a stop. Her mouth dropped as she surveyed the chaos. “Wowza.” She blinked several times, clamped her mouth shut with a pop, and turned off the faucets before the sinks could overflow. “Um, did you vanquish the ghost?”
“No!” Lucy stood and exited the stall. “All the chaos so gobsmacked me, I hesitated. Ghost girl tackled me. We wrestled. I lost my grip on the Spectrescope and dropped it again. And then the ghost disappeared.” She swiped water from her cheeks, then folded her arms and stomped a foot. “Some ghost hunter I am. You’d think I would have gotten the hang of this by
now,” she grumbled, pushing a wet lock of hair from her cheek. “This is our second school haunting since the start of term!”
Schuyler swirled a dubious finger at Lucy’s wet appearance. “How did you get so wet?” “I got dunked.”
“Huh.” Schuyler’s eyebrows pinched together. “How did she get your head in the sink?” “It wasn’t the sink!”
“It wasn’t the—Ew! That’s disgusting!” She skipped away from “Lucy the Biohazard.”
“Seriously? What clued you in, Einstein?” Lucy shook her head like a dog. Schuyler squealed and dodged the flying droplets.
“Well, Einstein says you better think of something before we’re up to our eyeballs in soap and toxic waste!”
Lucy snatched the artifact from the floor. She shrugged a shoulder and waved a soft hand around. “I dunno. Uh, stop?”
The dispensers stopped oozing, and the last of the towels flittered to the floor. Lucy blew out a sigh and tucked the Spectrescope into her waistband under her damp shirt. She knelt and grabbed a handful of towels and started wiping the floor.
An ear-piercing shriek emanated from the corridor. Lucy’s head drooped, and her shoulders slumped. “Here we go again,” she mumbled. “C’mon, we’ve got a ghost to catch.” Lucy, and her best friend, Schuyler Williams, endeavored to follow the ghost without drawing attention, either from the spirit or lingering students. The classrooms were primarily
empty since school had let out for the day.
The Spectrescope lens revealed a teenage girl’s gossamer image in jeans and a T-shirt
floating down the hallway. The ghost paused briefly to look into each classroom. Lucy’s magical

artifact known as the Spectrescope, appeared to be a giant magnifying glass, but it revealed the presence of ghosts and spirits like the one she saw now.
“Do you see her anywhere?” Schuyler was puffing hard. She pushed a lock of honey- blonde curls behind an ear and leaned against the wall to catch her breath. They had chased the ghost up and down staircases and hallways on all three levels of the old building that combined the middle and upper school grades.
Lucy nodded, pointing toward the end of the corridor. “I found her. She’s down there.” She studied the image in the Spectrescope. “She’s opening someone’s locker.”
The ghost pulled her lips up with her fingers and poked out her tongue, knowing they saw her. Lucy’s lips pinched together; her jaw clenched. If I keep this up, I’m going to get lockjaw. Grr. Lucy glared at the annoying spirit.
“What’s she doing?” Schuyler could see the ghost in the scope that only worked for Lucy as she peeked over Lucy’s shoulder at the artifact. Her face scrunched when the ghost, who had a devious smirk on her face, waggled her fingers and zoomed into one of the classrooms.
“Drat!” Lucy edged closer to the doorway. “She went in Mrs. Bernard’s classroom.” A high-pitched screech assaulted Lucy’s ear. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Ya think?” Schuyler snarked, still puffing for air. Lucy wrinkled her nose and squinted in reply.
Several chalk erasers hurtled into the hallway, smacked the wall, and thumped to the floor. Clouds of chalk dust wafted into the air. Students exiting the after-school chess club classroom glanced in their direction and immediately went back to chatting. Lucy sighed in relief. Thankfully, no one was paying attention.

The ghost drifted from Mrs. Bernard’s room, brushing chalk dust from her hands. Her stringy dark hair floated around her head. The spirit squealed with delight, zipped down the corridor, and flew inside an old trophy case. The dislodged trophies spun haphazardly on the thick glass shelves, framed photographs tilted and wobbled, and ribbons fluttered wildly.
Two loitering students stared at the erratic behavior inside the display case. They stumbled backward, turned, and fled. Lucy whipped her hand up.
“Freeze!” The chaos immediately stopped. The whirling trophies halted mid-twirl and off-kilter. The framed photos defied gravity, frozen at weird angles on the shelves. The ribbons were stiff as pretzels.
“Drat and double drat!” Lucy stomped her foot. The ghost had disappeared through the back wall. “Missed her again!”
“She did that, didn’t she? Is she still here somewhere?” Schuyler glanced around, expecting to see a full-body apparition—or an “FBA,” as she referred to them. She had learned the terminology from reading a ghost-hunting book last summer.
“Well, it wasn’t the wind.” Lucy wasn’t upset with Schuyler—she was upset with herself because she couldn’t defeat the ghost that was causing her angst. “And no, she’s not here. She went through the back wall.” She heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
Lucy gave an eraser a swift kick, lobbing it back into the classroom. “C’mon, grab the others, would you? We need to check the classroom before someone discovers what happened.” An eraser skidded away from her grasp. “Seriously?” Lucy groused, pushing a damp strand of hair from her face. Each time she reached for the eraser, it hurried away. Schuyler wasn’t doing any better, chasing the bouncing erasers.

“Oh, this is ridiculous! Lucy, you have to do something. We could be here all night.” Schuyler dove for an eraser. She missed.
“Freeze!” The erasers hung above the floor. Lucy grabbed two and smacked them together, sending up more clouds of dust.
“Um, Lucy?” Schuyler rolled to her feet.
“What?”
“Shouldn’t you do something about the trophy case? Or do you plan to leave it like that?” Lucy rolled her eyes and swiped her hand toward the trophy case. “Return.”
Schuyler smothered a giggle. It was comical watching the scene inside the case reverse
itself, the items settling into their original positions.
The large six-panel oak door to Mrs. Bernard’s classroom stood ajar. The girls slipped
inside the classroom, and Lucy eased the door shut. The room was not in its usual configuration. The chairs were balanced precariously against one another on top of the tables, the
reference books were stacked enormously high on the counter, and the blinds were half up and slanted at various angles. The world globes on the tables spun on their bases, and the balloon geography props suspended from the ceiling swayed back and forth.
However, the chalkboard was another matter.
Detailed sketches filled its matte-charcoal surface with werewolves, vampires, coffins, and the disturbing image of a mummy with one bulging eye. Lucy gasped, slapped a hand to her mouth, and pointed to the other drawing.
Mrs. Bernard was a no-nonsense kind of teacher. After all, her German surname meant “strong bear.” Although she usually had a good sense of humor, Lucy didn’t think Mrs. Bernard

would be laughing at her effigy in a witch’s hat, grinning manically and brandishing a foaming beer stein. Lucy rolled her eyes upward.
“Quick, help me get rid of this stuff,” said Lucy. The Spectrescope got stuffed in her waistband. She swiped erasers through the effigy while Schuyler scrubbed the drawings from the other end of the chalkboard.
“How is it possible one ghost did all this in a matter of seconds?” Schuyler asked, sneezing at the chalk dust wafting up to her nose. “You have to admit she’s an excellent artist. The graphics are amazing. I wish I could sketch even half as well.” She rubbed the dust from her hands, then began placing the chairs back under the tables. “We should have left some of the drawings. They were perfect for Halloween. It’s in a few days, you know.”
Lucy swept her gaze around the classroom. Several computer tablets, charging on the counter, suddenly lit up with the image of the ghost. The images shrieked in unison, the cacophony of ear-piercing noise bouncing around the room. The spirit, now a fully visible FBA, popped her head through the back wall. A gleeful smirk contorted her face before she zoomed through the room and out the door. Lucy followed her through numerous corridors only to see the ghost disappear through a wall each time. The last time she disappeared, Lucy slumped against a wall and whimpered.
It was the girls’ bathroom.
Again.
They cautiously entered and found it was empty and still a mess.
“Maybe the Spectrescope can help you clean up,” Schuyler offered. “I saw Mr. Bill open
the janitor’s closet down the hall a few minutes ago. He might be coming this way. I’ll go stall

him.” Lucy gave a brief nod. She tucked the Spectrescope in her waistband and pulled her shirt over it.
She thought back to how excited she and Schuyler had been when they’d realized they were ghost hunters. Those dreams of fun, adventure-filled afternoons chasing harmless gossamer ghosts soon became dangerously real. Fallen angels, called Daemons and Irredaemon haunted them instead.
She pushed the pensive mood aside. Clutching a handful of paper towels, she crawled across the floor, wiping up the soap. It didn’t seem right to use the power of the Spectrescope to fix a mess she should have been able to prevent.
“Lucy Hornberger!”
Lucy froze. Her eyes squeezed shut as the owner of the tenor-toned voice stomped into the room, the thud of heavily booted feet stopping next to her. She peeked an eye open, and her worst fear was confirmed. It was Mrs. Jensen, the girls’ gym coach.
And the only teacher in the whole school who didn’t like Lucy.
“Lucy Hornberger! Explain yourself!” Mrs. Jensen roared, standing with her hands on her hips, shoulders back and chest puffed up like a marine. Even her blonde ponytail stood at attention, tight and rigid. “I would never have expected such extreme behavior, even from you. This is an outrage!” Her whistle, on the lariat around her neck, appeared to shudder with every word that exploded from her mouth.
“Mrs. Jensen, I didn’t do it! I found the bathroom like this. See?” Lucy replied, waving a hand with a finger pointed at herself. “I’m the one on the floor trying to clean up this mess!”
“I’ll take no lip from you, young lady! You watch your attitude, or you’ll be doing more than just a week of detention. You might get detention for the rest of the school year!”

“Detention? I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!” retorted Lucy, scrambling to her feet and clutching a wad of drooling paper towels.
“Lucy! You better get this mess cleaned up pronto!” Schuyler burst into the bathroom. “I just saw Mrs.—” Her mouth clamped shut as she grasped the edge of a stall and slid to a stop behind the teacher. “Oops,” she muttered, holding a mop from the janitor’s closet.
Mrs. Jensen’s head swiveled so fast toward Schuyler that Lucy wondered why it didn’t spin completely around like a doll’s head in a horror movie.
“See? Even your groupie seems to think you trashed the bathroom,” snarled Mrs. Jensen, snatching the mop and thrusting it at Lucy. “You can start by mopping. I’ll go tell Mr. McGoo to come supervise. In the meantime, I’ll notify the principal’s office about your detention and telephone your mother to inform her why you missed the school bus. She will have to come pick you up instead.”
“Mrs. Jensen, Lucy didn’t do this,” Schuyler interjected. “We found the bathroom like this.”
The teacher’s head whipped around again. Her face puckered in a scowl so deep she was almost unrecognizable. Schuyler pinched her lips shut and widened her eyes as large as saucers.
“It would be wise for you to keep your excuses to yourself, Miss Williams, or you’ll be joining Miss Hornberger in detention.” The teacher turned and stomped from the room.
Lucy sighed deeply, her shoulders rounded in a slump. She dropped the shaggy mop into a sink and swirled it in the water-filled basin. “You should go home. There’s no need for you to get into trouble too.” She dropped the mop to the floor and scrubbed at the soap puddles.

“It’s not okay! You didn’t do this. Mrs. Jensen is unreasonable.” Schuyler picked up the remaining paper towels and dried the water droplets on the mirror. “She’s probably still mad at the trick you pulled on her.”
“Oh, c’mon! It was just a prank.” Lucy snorted, then a grin slowly creased her face. “I’ve never seen anyone’s face so red before!” She shrugged her shoulders. “It was weeks ago. How could she still be mad?”
“Why would you even think of gluing the pea on her whistle? She’s the least likely teacher to find anything funny. She’s always grumpy.” Schuyler crossed her arms, lifted an eyebrow, and waited for Lucy to see the absurdity of the pea incident.
“And that’s why everyone else thought it was hysterical! She kept blowing that thing until her face turned red, and then she stormed off the girls’ basketball court.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “She needs to lighten up a bit.”
“Well, at least that was only two days of detention. Now, you’re looking at doing a week.”
“Yeah, but at least we got a good laugh from a harmless prank. That’s what I do—prank. Not make a mess or destroy things.” Lucy rinsed the mop in the sink, squeezed out the excess, and dropped it to the floor with a splat. “Besides, it wasn’t even her whistle. I found an identical one at a garage sale for a dollar and glued the pea to that one. After class, I switched her original back when she wasn’t looking.”
“I know you prank in fun, but this is your second detention, whether a ghost caused it or not. If you keep getting detention, you will get suspended.”
Lucy waggled her head. “I doubt it. I’m not usually in trouble, but what else can I do? She is the second ghost we’ve seen since school started. The first ghost was a bumbling idiot

who walked into our snare. He was vanquished. This time it’s a girl, and she’s not so easy to catch.”
“It’s been quiet since we cleared both houses this past summer.” Schuyler shivered. The daemon ghost of Darwin Stewart had haunted her parent’s house for several weeks until he was defeated. “Sheesh! Ghosts at the school? They’re starting to become a real nuisance. We better figure out fast where they’re coming from and why, or we’ll both be in big trouble.” She dropped the used towels in the trash bin.
“We know where they’re coming from and why. Darnathian is still after the Spectrescope.” Lucy still clearly remembered her battle with the Dark Prince to get the Spectrescope back. She nearly didn’t survive. “But so far he’s sent a bumbling idiot and a snarky girl. What gives?” Lucy shoved the mop back and forth across the floor, grimacing when the soap began frothing like a bubble bath. “This is going to take forever!” She smacked the mop handle.
“I’ll go see if there’s another mop,” Schuyler muttered and disappeared out the door again.
Lucy swirled the mop in the sink and squeezed it, wringing the excess water from its stringlike cotton curls. She did this several more times, but the soapy mess was expanding.
A giggle erupted somewhere in the bathroom, followed by a loud swooshing as a toilet flushed. Then a second toilet flushed, and another. The flushing and gurgling reverberated through the tiled room like the Old Faithful geyser erupting at Yellowstone National Park.
Lucy wrinkled her nose in a snarl. “Ooh, just you wait till I find you!” The flushing stopped, and the giggling got louder. She swirled the mop in the sink as movement caught her

eye in the mirror. The teenage ghost floated out of the wall, locking eyes with Lucy’s reflection. A smirk teased the corners of her thin pale lips.
The quirky ghost morphed into a monstrous wolflike thing in a snap, its gaping mouth wide enough to gobble Lucy’s head with double rows of razor-sharp teeth. In its daemon form, the ghost had griffin wings, and a serpent tail slashed the walls. The creature still wore jeans and a T-shirt.
“Armor!” Lucy turned, flung the wet mop aside, and reached both hands behind her, pulling the Spectrescope lens from the handle. The Spirit Sword flowed upward like molten steel and formed into a solid, razor-sharp two-edged sword.
Simultaneously, a kite shield erupted from the bracelet she wore, and her woven metallic vest fluidly changed to a snug-fitting breastplate. Drat! Lucy thought, pursing her lips and stuffing the lens head in her pocket. I bet the hat in my locker just became the helmet! I have to remember to wear that thing next time!
The creature shrieked and flew toward the ceiling. Lucy gripped the sword and stepped to the middle of the room. “Who are you? Tell me your name!” she yelled. The creature hissed fire from its mouth and pitched itself at Lucy, who raised her shield.
The flames hit the shield and flashed back at the creature instead, searing its whiskers. Screeching, it hovered near the ceiling and swiped a clawed hand at Lucy. “You have no power over me, puny human.”
“We’ll see about that.” Lucy placed one foot forward and swung the Spirit Sword at the dogheaded daemon, the gleaming edges slicing through the air. She missed. The sword smacked the block wall, chipping the old paint. The daemon zipped into a stall. A roll of toilet paper whizzed past Lucy’s face. “Seriously? What are you? Like five years old?”

The spirit growled. It soared over the top of the enclosure and hurtled toward Lucy, arms outstretched. Lucy ducked, feinting the sword at the creature.
The creature swerved, snarled, and spit fire from its mouth, its wings a blur. “You are weak, human. You will never conquer me.” It flew up the wall, pivoted, then dove again.
Lucy rolled under sinks and speared the daemon in the foot. It hit the wall before sliding to the floor as Lucy stood and used the sword’s broadside to wallop the daemon on the head with a resounding thwack.
The impact reverberated through her arms. “Okay, that’s weird. You’re solid?” Lucy poked the daemon. It snarled, baring its pointy teeth. The winged dog-creature sat in a slimy soap puddle on the floor, rubbing its head. No, it’s not a gossamer ghost anymore, Lucy thought.
The angry creature stood, braced itself against the wall, and crossed its arms. The griffin wings folded and disappeared, and the dog head morphed. Once again, the ghost girl with the long, stringy hair stared defiantly at Lucy.
“Huh, guess you were wrong about my not having any power over you.” Lucy blocked the exit, although she wasn’t quite sure it would keep the ghost girl from disappearing. “I command you to tell me your name.”
“You command no one, stupid girl. Least of all a daemon like me.” The spirit waved a dismissive hand, then casually began to inspect a nail. “You are weak and puny and thoroughly disgusting. The Irredaemon abhor the One you serve.” A foul odor leaked from her mouth as she spoke.
Lucy gagged and waved a hand to dispel the odor wafting toward her, which reeked of dead skunk and rotten eggs. “Ew, thanks for the reminder, Stinky Breath. You’re right. I can’t

command you, but the High King can. In the name of the High King of Ascalon, I command you—tell me your name!” Lucy stepped forward with the Spirit Sword.
“Argh!” The ghost covered its ears and turned its face away. “Do not say that name!” Her head and body dipped and swayed like a cougar. Her eyes had a green glow-in-the-dark gleam to them.
“The High King commands you!” Lucy took another step. Nervous sweat trickled down her back. Although she had faced daemons before, each occurrence was different and unsettling. And this was most unsettling.
“Marchosias!” The ghost squirmed and covered her ears. She squatted against the wall and glared hatefully at Lucy.
“Seriously? Mark-chose-what?” Lucy said with a snicker. The daemon snarled.
“Stupid human! Mar-cho-sea-as! I am of the order of confusion. Spend a little more time with me, stupid human, and I will confound your mind.”
“Okay, Marchosias. In the name of the High King, tell me your real name!” Ignoring the goose bumps marching along her spine, Lucy waggled the sword in front of the daemon’s face.
“No!” The daemon bellowed, its eyes searching desperately for a way past Lucy and her sword. “Stop saying that accursed name!” Marchosias scrambled like a monkey into a corner and spit fire. The shield deflected the fiery blast back at the daemon. Tendrils of the daemon girl’s hair smoldered. Lucy cringed at the foul odor.
“In the name of the High King of Ascalon, what is your real name?”
A scream tore from the daemon’s throat before it spoke. “Chaos! My name is Chaos. Leave me alone, stupid girl! I’ll go away and never return.” The daemon rocked back and forth to comfort itself. After a moment, it stood, eyes glowing eerily.

“You will go, that’s for sure.” Lucy watched the ghost. “Did Darnathian send you?” The mirror reflected the daemon’s back, where the wings were slowly emerging and fluttering. “Stop that!” Lucy commanded. The wings disappeared.
“My Master did not send me. I was summoned. One moment chains held me in darkness. The next, I was loosed in this realm and floating through the school. I do not know why I was summoned, only that someone called me here. So, here am I.”
“Why did you take the form of a teenage girl?” Lucy asked the spirit. “Wouldn’t your flying wolf dog form have been scarier?”
“When I appeared in this realm, I was already in the form of the girl,” replied Marchosias. “I am Chaos, so I create havoc and disorder. It is what I do.” The daemon’s eyes darted from the sword to Lucy’s face. Marchosias rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Let me go, human. I will not bother you again.”
“Daemons don’t belong in this realm, as you called it.” Lucy breathed deeply and slowly exhaled. The action always helped steady her nerves. “In the name of the High King of Ascalon, I banish you back to Shinar, to be bound in chains and darkness!” Lucy lunged forward and touched the Spirit Sword to the chest of the daemon. It opened its mouth and screamed, but it imploded and disappeared.
Lucy exhaled loudly, only just realizing she had been holding her breath. Tension eased from her shoulders as she lowered the sword. She never found it easy vanquishing a sentient being, even if it was evil.
“Lucy! Heads up! Guess who I found?” Schuyler announced cheerfully and entered the bathroom ahead of the custodian.

“Armor!” whispered Lucy. The shield and the breastplate disappeared, and she was wearing the bracelet and the vest again. She snapped the Spectrescope head onto the handle and tucked the completed artifact inside her waistband under her shirt. She picked up the mop just as Schuyler and an older gentleman entered the room.
“What the heck happened in here?” Mr. Bill, the school custodian, lifted his eyebrows. “Whoa! What a stench too! Was it Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria today?” He grinned and winked.
“Hey! It wasn’t me, okay? I didn’t eat the beans.” Lucy returned the grin. Mr. Bill was one of the few custodians who interacted with the students, and he was always teasing Lucy and Schuyler. He was also Lucy’s next-door neighbor, married to Vivian, who worked in the school cafeteria—but not on Tuesdays. In Lucy’s estimation, Vivian made the best chocolate chip cookies ever. They had both retired years ago but recently took part-time jobs at the school to keep busy.
“Bless their hearts. They try hard, but sometimes the cooks in the kitchen need to eat their own cooking.” Bill ran a hand through his dark-brown tufts. His hair was so thick and unruly, it made Lucy think of a cairn terrier in terrible need of grooming. “How’d you get all wet, Lucy?” He pointed at her damp hair. “Are they doing aerobics in gym class now?”
“Yeah, you could say it was a bit of a gymnastic workout.” Lucy shrugged a shoulder. Mr. Bill chuckled. “Well, let’s get to work so you gals can go home.”
“Mrs. Jensen said I had to clean it up,” Lucy moaned, swishing the mop through the soap.
“It shouldn’t be your responsibility to do it.”
Schuyler held a second mop, and Mr. Bill waggled another.

“Well, the way I see it, we all want to go home, and Mrs. Jensen isn’t the boss of me. Besides, Schuyler says you gals found it this way, but you got blamed anyway. So, the sooner we all start mopping, the quicker we’ll finish. Does that sound about right?”
“Mr. Bill, you are awesome! You, too, Schuyler. Thanks for helping!” Lucy pushed the mop a little quicker. Within minutes, the bathroom smelled fresh with a clean floor and sparkling mirrors, and they had replaced all the empty toilet paper rolls.

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