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New South Wales. I hadn’t been here for two years, ever since “The Fall ''. Ever since I took an oath to never come back to this place. At that time I thought it would be impossible to get from Melbourne to Sydney all by myself. But now as I stand here, 878 km away from home. I wonder how I did it. How I found the courage to break the oath and take one train and five buses to get here. If Mum found out she’d ground me for eternity, but she’d also ask me why. And the answer I will give you now.
Someone had called me. But I do not know who. Why me? Why now? Why here? Unless … No. It couldn’t possibly be. I refused to believe it. She was dead, and only someone alive could’ve called me here. Right?
I shook my head. And lifted my chin. Whoever had called me, I would find them, find out why they called me and then I’d return.
I tiptoed up the steps, being careful not to make any noise. At one point I was distracted and I fell grazing my knee. But that didn’t stop me, I kept going, until I reached the doors, and a problem appeared. I would not be able to get into the library, the doors would be locked. I reached for the handle anyway and the door opened.
I pushed it open an inch wider and squeezed in. In my mind I had imagined someone to be waiting for me. Turns out I was wrong. The library was empty, silent and empty.
I crept in further, taking in the scene in front of me. The marble map of the world on the floor, the marble and glass case with an ancient banner. And the balcony, I shuddered, memories flooding my eyes. Emily noticing the map for the first time. The man creeping up behind her. Then Emily screaming as she fell. Then silence.
The memories in my eyes became tears. But I wiped them away. I wasn’t here to remember. I was here to find the person who called me, then leave.
I walked ahead. Into the doors of the reading room. Where, even in the silent night, everything in that room was screaming for me to leave, to go home. But I continued walking, until someone coughed. I froze. I was 99% sure that no one else was in the library except me. I turned slowly, quickly coming up with excuses in my head for why I was in the state library in the middle of the night. Then I screamed. Because there, right in front of me was a ghost.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Hillary.”
******
So many questions swirled around in my head as I stared at the ghost.
How did he know I was coming? How did he know my name? Who is he? I thought ghosts weren’t real Mum, how do you explain this? And why does he look so familiar?
Luckily for me, all my questions were answered in one sentence, “Sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m David Scott Mitchell, I am the founder of this library and I’ve been sent to find you by the orders of Emily York, who I believe is your sister.”
Annoyingly, his answers made new questions pop into my head, so I decided to ask the first question that came to my mind, “Why are you alive?”
“I would consider that rude, but you have never seen a ghost before, so you ---”
What he just said made my jaw drop, I had so I couldn’t wait any longer, I did the unbearable, unspeakable, I interrupted, “So you're actually a ghost, not a figment of my over curious imagination that may have lead me to hear a voice and ”
Interrupting had always been a big no, no in my family, we had been taught to be patient and to wait, we’d been told it was rude, very rude. But, with all that worrying about what Mum would say if she knew, I forgot about another rule I had just broken.
“Shhhhhhhhh! This is a library!” David Scott Mitchel shouted, breaking the rule he’d just called me out on for breaking.
“Sorry. Wait, what about Emily, is she a ghost, too?”
He nodded.
“Can I see her?”
He nodded and walked.
“Wait! Come back here, where are you going?!”
David Scott Mitchell kept walking, I couldn’t believe it, he didn’t even care that I’d just shouted in a library. So, even though I should have known better than to follow a ghost I had only just met through a library that I hadn’t been in for four years in the middle of the night, I followed him.
And so, we walked, and walked some more, and walked a bit more and ---
Something flashed at the corner of my eyes. In the doorway was a man, tall, wrinkled and pale, but not as pale as the ghost that was walking in front of me. I could tell the doorway man was searching for something, I could tell, by the way his face was tilted, and the way his eyes widened as he saw me, his eyes blood red, veins pulsing rapidly, I knew what had just happened, he recognised me. I ran.
I ran fast, sprinted down ten different hallways, then I stopped. And David Scott Mitchell was standing right beside me. “This way,” he said.
We walked into the galleries, where artworks hung on walls, then we stopped. I was very determined to get as far away as possible from that, what’d you call it, thing, as possible, “Come on. Why have we stopped?” Then I saw.
A door had opened, like a bit of the wall had just cracked and swung open, it was a very confusing sight. “Come.” David Scott Mitchell said. Then he disappeared through the door, and very soon afterward, I did too.
Inside was a hallway, a big giant hallway, that seemed to stretch on forever. SLAM! I jumped. And quickly turned around, nothing was there, it was only the door closing.
I continued to follow David Scott Mitchell through the hallway, and then down another. This time it was bigger, with colourful doors on either side, ghosts walking in and out, nodding “hello” to David Scott Mitchell as they passed, not taking any notice of me.
“Stay here.” We were standing outside of a sage green door, with the letters E.Y written in gold writing. David Scott Mitchell was gone, I guessed he was in the room. So I waited, and waited then I listened, because I was very good at listening through doors. I heard voices, two, David Scott Mitchell’s and someone else's, someone young.
“Yes, miss.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Alright, I’m ready to see her.”
And with that, footsteps sounded, I pulled away from the door. It opened, and David Scott Mitchell came out, “She’s ready to see you.”
He held the door open for me to step in, and I did, very, very nervously.
“Hillary!” The girl in the seat jumped up in joy. She was about eight, wide eyes and hair in pigtails. For a second I didn’t know her, she was just another ghost, a kid ghost, but still a ghost, and then I saw her. Saw her jumping over the waves at the beach, choosing a birthday present for Mum, choosing a fish at the pet shop. This wasn’t just a ghost, this was Emily, the girl who didn’t deserve to die that day, the girl I called my sister.
******
Emily was alive (not really, she’s a ghost), she was happy, she was also very very scared. Of the man in the doorway, who she told me was Henry Lawson.
“Henry Lawson?” I stare at Emily in disbelief, “But didn’t he die like 100 years ago?”
Emily nodded, “Yes, he did. I’m confused too. But that doesn’t matter, I just want to find out why he’s looking for me, and why he’s so desperate to find me. Why is he travelling into human minds to make them look for me? I want to know.”
“And you want me to find out and stop him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. But there is one teensy problem” I said, remembering the look of recognition on Henry Lawson’s face when he saw me.
“What is that?”
“Well, I’ve seen him.”
“What?! Hillary! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Emily hopped from her seat clearly worried.
“Well, until you gave the description, I didn’t know who he was. And he sorta, kinda, maybe looked like he knew who I was.”
Emily’s face was pale, really pale, seeing that she was a ghost. “No. No. No. No. No. This can’t - just no.” Then she took a big deep breath, but didn’t breath in any air, “Ok. Hillary, don’t worry. He doesn’t know you so he shouldn’t recognise you. So don’t worry. Just find out what he wants ok. And be safe.”
I nodded, “I will.” Then I left and David Scott Mitchell led me down two other hallways to a door painted mustard yellow with the letters H.Y written in gold writing on it. My initials. “Excuse me, Mr Mitchell, I was just wondering why -”
“Your initials are on this door?” David Scott Mitchel finished my question, “Also, Miss Hillary, I prefer to be called Dave, or Scotty, that’s what my friends call me.”
“I’m your friend?” I couldn’t believe this, I was friends with a famous person.
“Yes. Any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.”
“Why do you care for Emily so much?”
“Well, she reminds me of a woman I once loved, Emily Matilda. And she was so lonely here, so I told her I’d be her father, so she'd have family with her. Until, at least, when you die and she will have someone familiar.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, “Thankyou.” I said, half-crying, then I hugged him. “Thank you, Dave.”
******
I set off to find Henry Lawson half an hour later. Dave said he was happy to come but I told him that he had to stay with Emily.
I completely regretted that just after the door in the wall closed, wishing I had someone with me. Henry Lawson was creepy, and I barely knew my way around the state library. Before I left Emily told me to search the stacks, which she presumed was where Henry Lawson hid when he wasn’t roaming the halls. She also told me quite a bit about resurrected humans. Like how they can’t eat or drink, or read, they have no knowledge whatsoever. Which means they are being controlled by someone else. But who?
I walk down stairs, following the map Dave had drawn for me. Until I reached the first level of the stacks. Shelves and shelves full of millions of year old objects. A few had labels. And two were just labels, at first I thought the labels were the old object, then I read them and realised what the labels said.
Henry Lawson
Death Mask
Henry Lawson
Hand Cast
Whoever had resurrected Henry Lawson must have taken these to do so. I went down to the next level, then the next. This one had quite a few ancient books on the shelves so I took my time, examining each one carefully, trying my best not to sniff them, because the smell of old books is mesmerizing. I turned the corner. Then I froze. The figure sitting on the desk a few feet away from me ran, dropping everything in their hands. Then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Magic.
I neared the desk. On it was a teacup, with still-warm tea inside. It was white with little pictures of waratahs on it, it looked so familiar. And the other object, a newspaper dated on the 8th of May 2018. Who would want to read a newspaper from that long ago. I scanned the front page for any sign of interesting news when I saw Emily’s name. This wasn’t just any newspaper, this was the newspaper from the day fell. The day journalist Thalia Glasshouse interviewed us, and the day we left. Leaving every memory of Emily in New South Wales. Then I read. Thalia made everything so sad and realistic, it felt like I was reliving that day.
CRASH! I jumped, and I screamed. It was the creepy guy, Henry Lawson, I knew it was. I began thinking that I would never make it back to Melbourne. I turned slowly, bracing myself for the blood-red eyes of Henry Lawson. But I only saw a ghost. Not a human ghost though, it was the ghost of a cat.
******
I breathed out in relief. And bend down to pet the cat. But of course, the cat was a ghost and my hand went straight through it. “Right.” I said to myself, realising. I stood up and went back to the desk. The teacup had cooled down, and the warm smell had vanished. So I decided to leave. Turning on the spot to face the stairs, I noticed someone. They were pale, and tall, with large blood-red eyes. Henry Lawson.
I wanted to run, but I was too curious. Henry Lawson seemed sad, but he was after Emily, so he had to go. I grabbed the closest object and held it high above my head. “STOP!” The voice was hoarse and wrinkled. I stopped, I knew I probably shouldn’t have.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I just need Emily.”
“Why?” I ask, this was my only chance to get the answers.
“My master. He wants her dead.”
“She’s already dead,” I exclaimed, then, after the last puzzle piece of my question was completed in my mind, I added, “He killed her.”
“Well, clearly, she is still in some way alive, she can still communicate with living humans.”
“So she knew something?”
“I believe so.”
“Why doesn’t he find her?”
“He doesn’t want to be seen. And so he brought me back to life, even though I was quite happy living as a dead human. I just want to be dead again, it’s so peaceful.”
“Is there anything I can do to stop him?”
Henry Lawson nods. And points to the newspaper in my hand. “See those two words, the ones that say “evil matter” that is an anagram of time travel. You just have to read that sentence three times and you will be there, in that time. And there could be a possibility that you could save your sister. And I will be free.”
I stare at him open mouthed. The guy I thought was evil was actually helping me. I nod. Read the sentence three times and suddenly blackness, an ice-like cold seeping under my clothes into my bones. Then light, bright and blinding.
The noise overwhelms me, after silence the voices of everyone in the building is painful, bursting my eardrums. I clasp my hands onto my ears, and fall to the ground. “Hillary, sweetheart, are you ok?”
I look up, Mum stands above me, Dad is by her side. “Look, I can explain.” I say, my voice suddenly younger. “What’s the date?”
Mum and Dad stare at each other, “It’s the 8th of May. Why are you asking?”
“What’s the year?”
Dad answers this time, “2020.”
I couldn’t believe it, the newspaper had actually worked. I was ten-years-old. Emily was alive, and I was one of the two people who knew that Emily was about to die. “Look at the map!”
My head shoots up to see Emily leaning over the railing pointing down at the marble map. I ran over to her, but I did not look down at the map, I was looking for a man, the necromancer. I looked down at my watch, because I wore one back then and screamed. It was loud and hurt my throat, but it got everyone’s attention.
“Hillary. This is a library.” Mum whispers sternly in my ear.
But I don’t stop. “THIS MAN WAS ABOUT TO PUSH HER!!!” I shouted pointing behind me, where, as I expected, stood a man so familiar looking I couldn’t believe it.
In the next fifteen minutes of that day, the police were called and the man was arrested. And I became the star of the newspaper. I smile, I completed my task, Emily was not dead, and Henry Lawson was free.
EIGHTH OF MAY 2024
The 4 year anniversary of the day I saved Emily, and the day she told me a secret I will keep for the rest of my life. Until “The Day”. I will forever remember that day, and I will never forget, no matter what.
It was 6:00 am when the knock arrived. We all poked our heads out of our rooms, our hair messy and uncombed. “It’s likely a delivery person, they’ll just leave it at the door.”
I stared at Mum in disbelief, had she literally forgotten, “The talent scout.” I whisper as I watch a wave of realisation wash across Mum’s face. She stared at me, her eyes wide, telling me to answer the door.
I flatten my hair with my hands, take a deep breath and unlock the door, “Hi, how can I help you.” I say in my cheeriest voice.
The person at the door was tall, with long hair slicked back into a tight bun. They were wearing a suit. I knew it must be the talent scout. Well, that was until they spoke.
“I have a warrant for Hillary and Emily York’s immediate execution.”
Someone had called me. But I do not know who. Why me? Why now? Why here? Unless … No. It couldn’t possibly be. I refused to believe it. She was dead, and only someone alive could’ve called me here. Right?
I shook my head. And lifted my chin. Whoever had called me, I would find them, find out why they called me and then I’d return.
I tiptoed up the steps, being careful not to make any noise. At one point I was distracted and I fell grazing my knee. But that didn’t stop me, I kept going, until I reached the doors, and a problem appeared. I would not be able to get into the library, the doors would be locked. I reached for the handle anyway and the door opened.
I pushed it open an inch wider and squeezed in. In my mind I had imagined someone to be waiting for me. Turns out I was wrong. The library was empty, silent and empty.
I crept in further, taking in the scene in front of me. The marble map of the world on the floor, the marble and glass case with an ancient banner. And the balcony, I shuddered, memories flooding my eyes. Emily noticing the map for the first time. The man creeping up behind her. Then Emily screaming as she fell. Then silence.
The memories in my eyes became tears. But I wiped them away. I wasn’t here to remember. I was here to find the person who called me, then leave.
I walked ahead. Into the doors of the reading room. Where, even in the silent night, everything in that room was screaming for me to leave, to go home. But I continued walking, until someone coughed. I froze. I was 99% sure that no one else was in the library except me. I turned slowly, quickly coming up with excuses in my head for why I was in the state library in the middle of the night. Then I screamed. Because there, right in front of me was a ghost.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Hillary.”
******
So many questions swirled around in my head as I stared at the ghost.
How did he know I was coming? How did he know my name? Who is he? I thought ghosts weren’t real Mum, how do you explain this? And why does he look so familiar?
Luckily for me, all my questions were answered in one sentence, “Sorry, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet. I’m David Scott Mitchell, I am the founder of this library and I’ve been sent to find you by the orders of Emily York, who I believe is your sister.”
Annoyingly, his answers made new questions pop into my head, so I decided to ask the first question that came to my mind, “Why are you alive?”
“I would consider that rude, but you have never seen a ghost before, so you ---”
What he just said made my jaw drop, I had so I couldn’t wait any longer, I did the unbearable, unspeakable, I interrupted, “So you're actually a ghost, not a figment of my over curious imagination that may have lead me to hear a voice and ”
Interrupting had always been a big no, no in my family, we had been taught to be patient and to wait, we’d been told it was rude, very rude. But, with all that worrying about what Mum would say if she knew, I forgot about another rule I had just broken.
“Shhhhhhhhh! This is a library!” David Scott Mitchel shouted, breaking the rule he’d just called me out on for breaking.
“Sorry. Wait, what about Emily, is she a ghost, too?”
He nodded.
“Can I see her?”
He nodded and walked.
“Wait! Come back here, where are you going?!”
David Scott Mitchell kept walking, I couldn’t believe it, he didn’t even care that I’d just shouted in a library. So, even though I should have known better than to follow a ghost I had only just met through a library that I hadn’t been in for four years in the middle of the night, I followed him.
And so, we walked, and walked some more, and walked a bit more and ---
Something flashed at the corner of my eyes. In the doorway was a man, tall, wrinkled and pale, but not as pale as the ghost that was walking in front of me. I could tell the doorway man was searching for something, I could tell, by the way his face was tilted, and the way his eyes widened as he saw me, his eyes blood red, veins pulsing rapidly, I knew what had just happened, he recognised me. I ran.
I ran fast, sprinted down ten different hallways, then I stopped. And David Scott Mitchell was standing right beside me. “This way,” he said.
We walked into the galleries, where artworks hung on walls, then we stopped. I was very determined to get as far away as possible from that, what’d you call it, thing, as possible, “Come on. Why have we stopped?” Then I saw.
A door had opened, like a bit of the wall had just cracked and swung open, it was a very confusing sight. “Come.” David Scott Mitchell said. Then he disappeared through the door, and very soon afterward, I did too.
Inside was a hallway, a big giant hallway, that seemed to stretch on forever. SLAM! I jumped. And quickly turned around, nothing was there, it was only the door closing.
I continued to follow David Scott Mitchell through the hallway, and then down another. This time it was bigger, with colourful doors on either side, ghosts walking in and out, nodding “hello” to David Scott Mitchell as they passed, not taking any notice of me.
“Stay here.” We were standing outside of a sage green door, with the letters E.Y written in gold writing. David Scott Mitchell was gone, I guessed he was in the room. So I waited, and waited then I listened, because I was very good at listening through doors. I heard voices, two, David Scott Mitchell’s and someone else's, someone young.
“Yes, miss.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Alright, I’m ready to see her.”
And with that, footsteps sounded, I pulled away from the door. It opened, and David Scott Mitchell came out, “She’s ready to see you.”
He held the door open for me to step in, and I did, very, very nervously.
“Hillary!” The girl in the seat jumped up in joy. She was about eight, wide eyes and hair in pigtails. For a second I didn’t know her, she was just another ghost, a kid ghost, but still a ghost, and then I saw her. Saw her jumping over the waves at the beach, choosing a birthday present for Mum, choosing a fish at the pet shop. This wasn’t just a ghost, this was Emily, the girl who didn’t deserve to die that day, the girl I called my sister.
******
Emily was alive (not really, she’s a ghost), she was happy, she was also very very scared. Of the man in the doorway, who she told me was Henry Lawson.
“Henry Lawson?” I stare at Emily in disbelief, “But didn’t he die like 100 years ago?”
Emily nodded, “Yes, he did. I’m confused too. But that doesn’t matter, I just want to find out why he’s looking for me, and why he’s so desperate to find me. Why is he travelling into human minds to make them look for me? I want to know.”
“And you want me to find out and stop him, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t. But there is one teensy problem” I said, remembering the look of recognition on Henry Lawson’s face when he saw me.
“What is that?”
“Well, I’ve seen him.”
“What?! Hillary! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Emily hopped from her seat clearly worried.
“Well, until you gave the description, I didn’t know who he was. And he sorta, kinda, maybe looked like he knew who I was.”
Emily’s face was pale, really pale, seeing that she was a ghost. “No. No. No. No. No. This can’t - just no.” Then she took a big deep breath, but didn’t breath in any air, “Ok. Hillary, don’t worry. He doesn’t know you so he shouldn’t recognise you. So don’t worry. Just find out what he wants ok. And be safe.”
I nodded, “I will.” Then I left and David Scott Mitchell led me down two other hallways to a door painted mustard yellow with the letters H.Y written in gold writing on it. My initials. “Excuse me, Mr Mitchell, I was just wondering why -”
“Your initials are on this door?” David Scott Mitchel finished my question, “Also, Miss Hillary, I prefer to be called Dave, or Scotty, that’s what my friends call me.”
“I’m your friend?” I couldn’t believe this, I was friends with a famous person.
“Yes. Any friend of Emily’s is a friend of mine.”
“Why do you care for Emily so much?”
“Well, she reminds me of a woman I once loved, Emily Matilda. And she was so lonely here, so I told her I’d be her father, so she'd have family with her. Until, at least, when you die and she will have someone familiar.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, “Thankyou.” I said, half-crying, then I hugged him. “Thank you, Dave.”
******
I set off to find Henry Lawson half an hour later. Dave said he was happy to come but I told him that he had to stay with Emily.
I completely regretted that just after the door in the wall closed, wishing I had someone with me. Henry Lawson was creepy, and I barely knew my way around the state library. Before I left Emily told me to search the stacks, which she presumed was where Henry Lawson hid when he wasn’t roaming the halls. She also told me quite a bit about resurrected humans. Like how they can’t eat or drink, or read, they have no knowledge whatsoever. Which means they are being controlled by someone else. But who?
I walk down stairs, following the map Dave had drawn for me. Until I reached the first level of the stacks. Shelves and shelves full of millions of year old objects. A few had labels. And two were just labels, at first I thought the labels were the old object, then I read them and realised what the labels said.
Henry Lawson
Death Mask
Henry Lawson
Hand Cast
Whoever had resurrected Henry Lawson must have taken these to do so. I went down to the next level, then the next. This one had quite a few ancient books on the shelves so I took my time, examining each one carefully, trying my best not to sniff them, because the smell of old books is mesmerizing. I turned the corner. Then I froze. The figure sitting on the desk a few feet away from me ran, dropping everything in their hands. Then disappeared in a puff of smoke. Magic.
I neared the desk. On it was a teacup, with still-warm tea inside. It was white with little pictures of waratahs on it, it looked so familiar. And the other object, a newspaper dated on the 8th of May 2018. Who would want to read a newspaper from that long ago. I scanned the front page for any sign of interesting news when I saw Emily’s name. This wasn’t just any newspaper, this was the newspaper from the day fell. The day journalist Thalia Glasshouse interviewed us, and the day we left. Leaving every memory of Emily in New South Wales. Then I read. Thalia made everything so sad and realistic, it felt like I was reliving that day.
CRASH! I jumped, and I screamed. It was the creepy guy, Henry Lawson, I knew it was. I began thinking that I would never make it back to Melbourne. I turned slowly, bracing myself for the blood-red eyes of Henry Lawson. But I only saw a ghost. Not a human ghost though, it was the ghost of a cat.
******
I breathed out in relief. And bend down to pet the cat. But of course, the cat was a ghost and my hand went straight through it. “Right.” I said to myself, realising. I stood up and went back to the desk. The teacup had cooled down, and the warm smell had vanished. So I decided to leave. Turning on the spot to face the stairs, I noticed someone. They were pale, and tall, with large blood-red eyes. Henry Lawson.
I wanted to run, but I was too curious. Henry Lawson seemed sad, but he was after Emily, so he had to go. I grabbed the closest object and held it high above my head. “STOP!” The voice was hoarse and wrinkled. I stopped, I knew I probably shouldn’t have.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I just need Emily.”
“Why?” I ask, this was my only chance to get the answers.
“My master. He wants her dead.”
“She’s already dead,” I exclaimed, then, after the last puzzle piece of my question was completed in my mind, I added, “He killed her.”
“Well, clearly, she is still in some way alive, she can still communicate with living humans.”
“So she knew something?”
“I believe so.”
“Why doesn’t he find her?”
“He doesn’t want to be seen. And so he brought me back to life, even though I was quite happy living as a dead human. I just want to be dead again, it’s so peaceful.”
“Is there anything I can do to stop him?”
Henry Lawson nods. And points to the newspaper in my hand. “See those two words, the ones that say “evil matter” that is an anagram of time travel. You just have to read that sentence three times and you will be there, in that time. And there could be a possibility that you could save your sister. And I will be free.”
I stare at him open mouthed. The guy I thought was evil was actually helping me. I nod. Read the sentence three times and suddenly blackness, an ice-like cold seeping under my clothes into my bones. Then light, bright and blinding.
The noise overwhelms me, after silence the voices of everyone in the building is painful, bursting my eardrums. I clasp my hands onto my ears, and fall to the ground. “Hillary, sweetheart, are you ok?”
I look up, Mum stands above me, Dad is by her side. “Look, I can explain.” I say, my voice suddenly younger. “What’s the date?”
Mum and Dad stare at each other, “It’s the 8th of May. Why are you asking?”
“What’s the year?”
Dad answers this time, “2020.”
I couldn’t believe it, the newspaper had actually worked. I was ten-years-old. Emily was alive, and I was one of the two people who knew that Emily was about to die. “Look at the map!”
My head shoots up to see Emily leaning over the railing pointing down at the marble map. I ran over to her, but I did not look down at the map, I was looking for a man, the necromancer. I looked down at my watch, because I wore one back then and screamed. It was loud and hurt my throat, but it got everyone’s attention.
“Hillary. This is a library.” Mum whispers sternly in my ear.
But I don’t stop. “THIS MAN WAS ABOUT TO PUSH HER!!!” I shouted pointing behind me, where, as I expected, stood a man so familiar looking I couldn’t believe it.
In the next fifteen minutes of that day, the police were called and the man was arrested. And I became the star of the newspaper. I smile, I completed my task, Emily was not dead, and Henry Lawson was free.
EIGHTH OF MAY 2024
The 4 year anniversary of the day I saved Emily, and the day she told me a secret I will keep for the rest of my life. Until “The Day”. I will forever remember that day, and I will never forget, no matter what.
It was 6:00 am when the knock arrived. We all poked our heads out of our rooms, our hair messy and uncombed. “It’s likely a delivery person, they’ll just leave it at the door.”
I stared at Mum in disbelief, had she literally forgotten, “The talent scout.” I whisper as I watch a wave of realisation wash across Mum’s face. She stared at me, her eyes wide, telling me to answer the door.
I flatten my hair with my hands, take a deep breath and unlock the door, “Hi, how can I help you.” I say in my cheeriest voice.
The person at the door was tall, with long hair slicked back into a tight bun. They were wearing a suit. I knew it must be the talent scout. Well, that was until they spoke.
“I have a warrant for Hillary and Emily York’s immediate execution.”