As Kyle reached for the doorknob, a weak voice came from behind him. He stopped for a few seconds, sighed, and turned around. A elderly woman was siting on the black desk chair. She was in a yellow flowered dress and three inch white high heels. A wide amber bonnet was on her graying haired head.
"Please child, tell me where I am." She said in a soft, but scared toned voice. Kyle smiled and dropped the heavy backpack making a thud sound.
"What's your name?" He questioned nervously. It was still weird to talk to the undead. He had never really taken anything supernatural seriously before.
The old woman thought for a moment. "My name is Alison Vonstrution," Kyle noticed a small red handbag resting on her lap. "I can't find my husband!" she exclaimed, her voice rising a little. A tear fell from her eye.
"Mrs. Vonstrution, please stop crying," Kyle pleaded. "What year do you think it is?"
Sometimes, or so his grandmother has told, spirits know they are dead. And some, on the other hand, do not. Usually the ones who know were not murdered, and died peacefully. "What do you mean child," she asked. "Why it's...
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