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~THE CRY OF THE NIGHT~
CHAPTER THE FIRST
Ryan was not sure how long the night had been crying.
Could have been weeks, could have been months.
Maybe it’s all just in his head.
But for as long as he could remember, the night cried out like a completely alone soul was trapped with nowhere to go.
He shifted between the various objects in the boot of the car, trying to find a comfortable position.
He didn’t.
It had been like this for the last few weeks after he ran away.
His method was simple:
Hop on a car. When the car stops, run into whatever place the car brought you to. Find a hidden place to rest and store whatever crumbs of food you have. Manage the hideout to be more homely. Remember the spot, and then go find some food.
The only reason he moved from his old place was because he was caught trying to steal some food, and was chased by the police.
He didn’t have time to grab anything from his hideout, so he was back to square one.
Even though the chase ended several minutes ago, his heart was still hammering away at his ribs. It was so loud that he was beginning to worry that the driver would hear it.
The car swerved and skidded. Whoever was driving was not very good at their job.
Bang!
Suddenly the car went over a speed bump, and everything was jostled.
It was barely anything, but for Ryan squashed between a bunch of random objects, it hurt.
Something metal slammed into his forehead, and before his brain could retake control of his mouth, he cried out.
“OW!!” He yelped, and clapped his hand over his mouth as if he could shove the traitorous noise back in there.
But it was too late.
Ryan heard a series of confused muttering, and felt as the car slowed down and stopped. He heard the car door slam as the driver walked over to the boot…
Okay, thought Ryan. You’ve done this before. Leap out of the boot screaming. Maybe push someone over. Big. Threatening.
He could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer…
Finally, the boot opened.
“ARRRR-“ Bellowed Ryan, throwing his arms up.
The driver yelped and threw a sharp punch at Ryan’s jaw.
His bellow turned into a cry as he tumbled out of the boot clutching his mouth.
“Oaaahhh.” Moaned Ryan.
“Whuh yuh doo daaat?”
Then he looked up into the bright green eyes of another child.
He bugged out his eyes, opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
“Whuh yuh doo daaat?” He mimicked in a funny tone.
“Uh, first off,” He said, in his normal voice, “I didn’t hit you that hard. Second, you just jumped out of the boot of my car screaming your head off. I think I can be forgiven for letting a fist fly.”
“Your car?!” Ryan said.
The boy smirked.
“Okay, granted, it wasn’t mine to start with, but it is now.”
So that’s why he was such a bad driver! Thought Ryan.
He barely knew how to drive!
The strange boy grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him up.
He looked at Ryan for a while, seemingly deciding wether to trust him or not.
“Name’s Martin. What’s yours?” He said finally.
Ryan gulped. “I’m Ryan. Are you homeless as well?”
Martin barked a laugh.
“Yup! Can’t even remember living in a permanent home.” He exclaimed as he climbed back into the car.
“My mum carked it when I was born, and then it was just me and my dad. Then for some reason we were out on the streets.”
Martin paused.
“Can’t remember for the life of me why. Something about money and debt.”
He said, climbing out of the car with a tattered bag.
“That’s terrible.”
Said Ryan.
Martin shrugged.
“Ehhhh. Not really. Dad disappeared a year ago. It’s actually quite fun, running around stealing things.”
There was a pause.
“Right.” He said in a commanding tone.
“Let’s go.”
Ryan was confused.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere.” Martin called over his shoulder.
The duo drove for quite a while.
“Heeyy…” Said Ryan.
“Have… you… um… heard any weird sobs and cries lately? Like… like the night is crying?”
Martin gave him a look as if he had suggested the moon was made of cheese.
“Ummm…”
Said Ryan, now feeling extremely awkward and speechless.
“Never mind.”`
Eventually, they passed a large building. A sign stood a few meters away:
“The State Library Of NSW” Is what it said.
As they drew nearer to the Library, Ryan felt more and more uneasy, as if something was trying to force itself into the workings of Ryan’s mind.
Suddenly, it felt as if Ryan had this struggling form in his mouth, like he had just eaten a large frog. He opened his mouth, but instead of coughing and retching, he said,
“Hey, Martin. How about we sneak into the library and rest in there? It’s open to the public, and we won’t be constantly battling the elements.”
Martin thought for a moment.
“Hey, that’s not actually that bad of an idea.”
Martin strolled briskly past and disappeared into the state library.
It was a clear and quiet night, but Ryan could still hear the mournful sounds of the night crying out into the blackness.
The State Library seemed ominous at night. It was completely dark, and quiet.
Way too quiet.
The massive columns looked like teeth, and the windows looked like eyes, like the library was gnashing its teeth at him.
The gargoyle on top of the roof seemed to be glaring at him…
Wait. Gargoyle?! There was no Gargoyle there before!
Ryan’s head snapped around to look at the gargoyle, but it had disappeared.
He heard an odd flapping noise above him, and a horrible, rasping screech. The pushing feeling at his head, like something was messing with the very workings of his brain was back again. He grimaced and massaged his temples. Suddenly, an agonising streak of pain burned up his spine. His head throbbed one more time and then…
It stopped.
He surveyed his surroundings again. It wasn’t so bad. The library didn’t look aggressive. The columns looked like teeth. A big, jolly smiling mouth. And as for the gargoyle and the flapping noise and the screech…
An owl.
It was an owl.
Ryan chuckled at himself for being so silly.
What was he doing dawdling out here when there was so much fun to be had at the library.
“Martin! Wait for me!”
CHAPTER THE SECOND
“This looks like a good place.” Said Martin as they entered a large, grand room.
It had long desks and tables lined up with a few computers sitting on them, and around the edges rows and rows of books.
Ryan didn’t know it, but this was the Mitchell Library Reading Room.
“This place looks pretty cool.” He remarked to Martin.
“Yeah.” Muttered Martin.
His head was throbbing again-and the sobs of the night were even louder-he wondered if these things were connected.
Suddenly, he felt that strange, frog-in-mouth sensation.
He tried to resist it, but it didn’t work.
“How about we look through the library, like we give ourselves a tour, and then decide which room we should sleep in?” He blurted.
Martin scoffed.
“Bro, this place has a million rooms.”
But Ryan still thought it was a good idea, and now he found himself wandering the hallways.
He came to a door marked ARCHIVES, and stood there, listening. The cries of the night seemed to be coming from in there.
Ryan shuddered. He didn’t want to go in there. Who knows what lurked behind that door.
But… then again…it would be nice to discover the source of the moans and groans that kept him up at night.
Yes, it really would be.
Ryan opened the door and stepped inside.
It was dark and spooky in the archives, and all he could do was wonder along the endless rows of shelves and chests.
Finally, he came to the end of the aisle.
He was just about to swing to the left and go into the next aisle, but something stopped him.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
He suddenly felt so sad, and so lonely, that he could simply curl up somewhere and cry and moan, and it wouldn’t matter, because no one would hear him.
He slowly turned around…
And what his gaze fell on would change his life forever.
A wobbling, shuddering form appeared in front of him. Instead of seeing it, it was as if Ryan could feel it.
It radiated a mixture of hurt, confusion and rage. It was a small, crippled, horribly burnt child’s body with dark, black holes were the eyes and mouth were supposed to be.
Draped over its shoulders was a charred red raincoat.
He was face-to-face with a ghost.
Ryan wanted to scream as loud as he ever had, but his fear twisted it into a strangled croak.
It twitched and jittered like it barely had a grip on existence.
It reached out with an open hand and spoke in a wheezy, crackly voice:
“C-c-c… Haaaallllpp. M-meeee. C-c-c-c-c…”
Ryan got up and ran. He shoulder charged the ghost, and it fell over with a yelp.
As he sped away, his head started throbbing. Every step caused an ice cold jolt shot to sizzle down his back.
“N-n-n-nooooooo. N-n-noooooooo!”
It screeched.
It sounded so sad, so alone, Ryan almost felt sorry for it.
He could hear it screeching and running behind him.
Things were thrown.
Paintings were pulverised.
Relics were run over.
Walls were ruined.
Books were bashed.
The library was liquidated.
The further Ryan ran, the more vulgar and monstrous the ghost sounded. He didn’t feel sorry for it anymore. It was as if he no longer understood the ghost. He didn’t understand.
Those words echoed in his head.
Didn’t Understand. Didn’t Understand. Didn’t Understand. He didn’t understand.
But because he was too busy running from a ghost whom he did not understand, he ran straight into a wall.
He was asleep before he even hit the floor.
A small, desolate looking child rubbed the frail hand of his weak mother. She was lying in a hospital bed. The child was wearing a large, rosy red raincoat.
Something flashed and the child was sitting on a chair. The hospital and mother gone, the child was at home. His father was yelling at him, furious, horrified that his wife was gone. He obviously somehow blamed the child for killing the mother.
A white flash faded into the father and the child. They were both running away from a fierce bushfire. A charred tree fell on top of them.
Another white flash turned into the father and the child being dragged out of what little remained of the tree trunk. The child was dead. The father was still alive.
The father was ripped apart emotionally. First his wife, then his son. It was too much. He laid the red, rosy raincoat the child used to wear, and buried it, far, far away from his normal home...
Ryan awoke from one world of nightmares to another with a bang. His whole body felt like it was glued together with sweat. His head was throbbing, but this time it was a smashed-into-a-wall-while-running-away-from-a-ghost sort of headache, not the headache where something was tampering with his mind. Gladly, he wasn’t injured, or at least, he couldn’t feel any injuries.
He had a bad dream about this kid who died in a bushfire, but it wasn’t a normal dream… it was so vivid, so real, that Ryan almost thought he was the boy. It would certainly account for his aching body.
He began to sit up but then stopped immediately. The ghost was still out there, somewhere. He laid back down and pulled up the covers.
Hang on… covers?
Instead of lying on the bare floor, Ryan’s head was on a pillow and a small blanket had been draped over him.
He froze when he heard feet stomping down some stairs and a voice calling out his name. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut until they burned. The footsteps were getting closer and closer. He braced himself for his death…
“Oh!” Said Martin sarcastically upon seeing Ryan.
“I see you found your own place to settle down for the night. Where’d you even get all that?”
He gestured to the blanket and the pillow.
Ryan tried to scream about ghosts and burnt ghosts and weird dreams and fires, but he couldn’t. It felt like his throat had constricted around itself.
“Anyway,” Muttered Martin, reaching into a bag,
“Dinner.” He said, lobbing a half-eaten bag of chips at Ryan’s head.
“Ow.” Muttered Ryan.
He paused for a moment, realising he could talk.
“MARTIN!! THERE WAS A GHOST! A BURNT ONE! IN THE BASEMENT, um, THE ARCHIVES AND IT WAS ALL BURNT AND HORRIBLE AND IT WAS SAD OR SOMETHING AND I HAD A WEIRD DREAM AND-“
“Jeez, jeez, calm down first! Have some chippy whippies!”
“Some what?!”
“Chippy whippies. It’s what I call chips sometimes.”
Eventually, Ryan calmed down enough to tell Martin the whole story.
By the time he’d finished, Martin was rubbing his temples.
“Arrrrrr… My bloody jiffing head. It’s throbbing.”
Then he looked up at Ryan with clouded, unfocused eyes.
“Ghosts? Archives? Burns? Fires? Wow. You really must have hit your head hard.” Scoffed Martin.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
CHAPTER THE THIRD
Ryan huffed in exasperation. He was hoping that once he got to someone else everything would be okay.
“Martin! I saw it! With my own eyes! I’ll show you where it was.”
Martin smiled at him as if he was a young child who had suggested that atoms were made of chocolate.
“Nonsense. Ghosts only exist in storybooks for the weak minded. Silly child.”
“Nonsense? “Storybooks?” “Weak minded?” “Silly child?!”
Thought Ryan.
Since when did Martin talk like a shakespearean poet?
He jumped up and grabbed Martin by the arm.
“Oh, Lord! Where, pray tell, are you taking me?”
He said with a strange flourish in his voice.
Ryan felt a surge of bravery rush through his blood.
“I’m taking you to prove to you that this ghost is bloody well real.”
Ignoring Martin’s classical protests, Ryan dragged him into the Archives of the State library.
It wasn’t until he had set foot into the place that he realised he had the same mysterious, pushing feeling at his brain again.
His bravery melted away into fear as he realised he had lost control of his legs, which carried him across the floor, deeper into the archives.
Martin, obviously not wanting to meet a ghost, yanked his arm out of Ryan’s grip and ran away.
“Martin!” Called out Ryan as he took off after him.
Oddly enough, Martin seemed to know exactly where he was going, and before long Ryan had lost him. The echoing footsteps had seemingly been swallowed up.
All he could do was wander around calling.
Ryan was shaking with fear, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. Because of the low light, the weird blobs that form across your eyes looked like monsters and apparitions.
The click-clack of his feet echoed across the empty, deafeningly quiet aisles.
After a while, he noticed the footsteps were slightly out of timing with when his feet touched the ground.
There was an extra footstep added into the gaps of his.
He stopped.
But the footsteps didn’t.
Ryan barely had time to register this before the blackened figure came around the corner and put its hand on Ryan’s shoulder.
“S-s-stooooooopp. Heeeeeeeeelp.”
He wanted to stop but his instinct to get away had taken over.
Ryan took off with a bang, followed closely by the ghost.
The chase was horrible beyond words.
Ryan would have been toast instantly if this was a flat out, straight-pathed race so had to constantly to duck and weave and turn.
His head was throbbing.
The sound of the screeching his and the ghost’s feet pummelling the ground became softer and softer.
He turned a corner…
And almost ran smack bang into a wall again.
He whirled around, but it was too late. The ghost was on him.
“P-p-pleeeeaaasse. Heeeeeeelp.”
Ryan wanted to ask, but for some reason, he said:
“No! Get lost!”
The ghost drooped.
Then it sobbed.
Ryan felt like deflated balloon. Why had he said that?
He tried to apologise.
“I said get lost!”
The ghost stopped. Then looked up at Ryan.
Then it hissed. A most horrible, bloodcurdling hiss that would haunt Ryan for years.
Uh oh, thought Ryan.
He ran.
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
After the boy burnt to death in the bushfire, his spirit left the world of the living.
Many years later, a gardener was digging in a garden bed when he dug up the boy’s raincoat.
Because a piece of his past life was uncovered, the boy’s spirit was yanked back into the realm of the living, and linked to the raincoat.
The gardener submitted it to his boss, a rich businessman. The businessman was already a bit rotten and greedy with money, but after the raincoat was proven to be a historical find, he became filthy rich.
But he felt a strange pull to the coat whenever it was around.
Finally, the child’s ghost revealed himself.
The ghost child begged for his raincoat to be reburied, but the filthy rich businessman didn’t care. He was so spoilt rotten by his money that all he wanted in the world was more money.
He refused, and reported the ghost to the world.
All the officials came rushing in to investigate, but the child’s spirit made himself scarce.
Now all it looked like was that the businessman threw some dirt on a raincoat and made up a story about it.
He lost all his money, and became a laughing stock.
Furious at the spirit, the businessman locked the raincoat in a museum, fully aware that since it was not an as impressive item, would be stuffed into storage.
Not buried, but with no one to help.
A few years later, the businessman died in a metal health clinic, poor and in debt.
Just like the boy’s spirit, his spirit was not at peace, so it could not live the mortal realm.
Legend says it still lingers around, guarding the boy’s raincoat from possible helpers...
Ryan flew through the corridors, bashing into the shelves.
Another dream… but how? He wasn’t even asleep.
He tried to stop, but his legs didn’t want to. He wanted to apologise, but his mouth didn’t want to. He couldn’t. It was as if something was clamping his mouth shut and keeping his legs running.
He tried to fight the feeling off.
He struggled and jerked.
His head throbbed more than it had ever before.
The ghost was right in front of him, regarding him with curiosity, and…
Concern?
Finally, with his head feeling like lava, Ryan squeezed out a sentence.
“I want to help you! Its just that something is stopping me!”
That stopped the ghost in its tracks.
It growled in frustration.
“Sh…wie…tsen…baun!”
It rasped.
“I… know… you’re…there…”
It broke into a coughing fit.
“Ha, ha, ha.” Boomed a voice.
“I told you, Felix, I wouldn’t let you get away with it!”
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
The pressure and restrictions on Ryan’s mouth and legs were suddenly lifted, and everything he wanted to say and do came out in a torrent.
“NO! I’m sorry, i can’t…huh? What? I can’t stop! Heeeeelp! I can’t stop! Arrrrghh! What’s happening to meeee?! Im sorry somethings controlling me- arrrgh my head…”
He screamed, yelled, yelped and whimpered as he ran back and fourth across the room.
When he had done, a large man had appeared. He had a tiny, piggy-looking face with minuscule glasses perched on his short nose and a smooth head. But that was the end of his littleness.
He quite fat and short, wore a dark crimson tuxedo and had a vein swelling on his forehead.
Ryan processed what they had said to each other.
“Your name’s Felix?!” He exclaimed to the ghost.
“You think I didn’t have a name?” Rasped ‘Felix’.
The businessman was offended.
“What about ME?” He growled, clenching his fists.
Ryan turned to the demanding little man.
“You’re… ummm… the ghost, i mean Felix, said you were… Kite-in-a-bum?”
The man’s head swelled up like a seething purple tomato.
Felix laughed.
“That’s much better name than Shwietsenbaun. Maybe I should call you that from now on.”
“BE QUIET!!!!” Roared ‘Shwietsenbaun’.
Felix seemed to remember what was going on.
“Why are you here? HOW are you here? And why can’t you just let me go?”
Asked Felix.
“Because you RUINED me!!” Bellowed Shwietsenbaun.
“I was rich from finding your grubby little coat. If you had just revealed yourself, we would have been the richest people on earth!”
For Ryan, everything clicked.
The dreams! He thought. They weren’t dreams— they were visions of the past! Felix died, but his raincoat was linked to him and when it was dug up he was forced back into the mortal realm! He wanted Shwietsenbaun to bury the raincoat, but he just wanted money, and showed every one the ghost, but there was no ghost, so he looked like a raving idiot, and when he died he wasn’t at peace so part of him remained in the mortal realm, making sure Felix’s raincoat never got buried!
Obviously, the bad guy was not Felix.
“How are we going to get rid of him?” Ryan said to Felix.
“Wha… You’re siding with HIM?!” Screeched Shwietsenbaun.
“He took EVERYTHING from me!!”
Ryan shook his head.
“You lost your money because you refused to help a poor child’s spirit who died in a fire!” He spluttered.
“Can’t you see how terrible that is?!”
Shwietsenbaun frowned so deeply his eyebrows connected.
“The only way we can return him to the spirit world is to put him at peace.”
Felix whispered to Ryan.
“Well, that’s going to be hard.”
He muttered.
“All I wanted was fame! And admiration!” Shwietsenbaun spat. “I wanted people to recognise me!”
Just then, a library employee came strolling round the corner with a mop and a bucket of soapy water.
“Hey!” She said, freezing on the sight of Felix, Ryan and Shwietsenbaun.
“What are you people doing here? You can’t be here! This is employee-only!”
Shwietsenbaun wants to be recognised, thought Ryan. So that’s what i’ll give him.
“Uh, lady? This man, here.” Ryan said pointing at Shwietsenbaun, “Is a magic ghost.”
The woman was not convinced.
“I’m not convinced.” She said.
“But you will be.” Said Shwietsenbaun.
“Look! I can disappear!” He said as he disappeared.
“I can make you say and think and do stuff!” He said.
“I love tacos.” Said the woman.
“They are yummy.”
She crouched on the floor and began breakdancing.
Shwietsenbaun went on to showcase all his ghostly powers.
By the end of it, the woman’s mouth was open in a ginormous O.
She called everyone in the museum over, and finally,
Shwietsenbaun was recognised.
And so he was at peace.
Slowly, Shwietsenbaun faded from this world and into the next.
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
Several weeks later, Ryan, Martin and Felix were burying Felix’s battered raincoat.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” Asked Ryan.
“Yes, i’m ready. The more I stay in this world, the more I feel like death.” Felix replied.
“But one last question before you go…were the cries of the night I kept hearing from you?”
“Yes. Because of what happened last time with Shwietsenbaun, I was more wary of who I called out to. I decided to only call to those who would understand and want to help.”
There was a pause.
“The only way you could hear my calls would be if you understood my pain, and had experienced it yourself.
“I wanted to go home.”
Felix looked at Ryan.
“And so do you.”
Ryan sighed and began to tell his story.
“I used to live with a very rich man who was my dad. He didn’t really like me. He saw me as a pest, who got in the way of his work.
“But one day, he brought home this massive glass pot, and in the glass pot there were a bunch of beautiful fish.
I can’t remember what type they were. They were just really colourful.
Anyway, he said it was amazingly expensive, and that no one was to touch it.
But one day, I wanted to look into it.
I leaned too far… and fell head-first into the tank.
Even though it was massive, I couldn’t flip myself over in it, so I found myself completely stuck.
I was in there panicking, I couldn’t breathe and my head was stuck underwater. Almost unconscious, I picked up a rock that was in the fish tank. I smashed the glass until it broke. Water went everywhere. Then my father came rushing in. He didn’t care that his only son had almost drowned, only that his son had cost him a mound of money. I didn’t want to live in a place where my father valued me less than a tank of pretty fish, so I ran away. And here I am now.”
Ryan didn’t realise he was crying until some tears ran into his nose and he choked.
“Hey!” Said Martin suddenly.
“I read about this rich guy that had his son Ryan run away!”
Ryan felt a jolt go down his spine.
“He was really worried, apparently. In fact, he spent most of his wealth looking for you, and has gone quite in debt.”
Ryan choked once again.
“Come on.” Said Felix, standing up and putting his raincoat back on.”
“Let’s go reunite you with your dad.”
٩(🌔ᴗ🌔)—🪄✨ THE END.
CHAPTER THE FIRST
Ryan was not sure how long the night had been crying.
Could have been weeks, could have been months.
Maybe it’s all just in his head.
But for as long as he could remember, the night cried out like a completely alone soul was trapped with nowhere to go.
He shifted between the various objects in the boot of the car, trying to find a comfortable position.
He didn’t.
It had been like this for the last few weeks after he ran away.
His method was simple:
Hop on a car. When the car stops, run into whatever place the car brought you to. Find a hidden place to rest and store whatever crumbs of food you have. Manage the hideout to be more homely. Remember the spot, and then go find some food.
The only reason he moved from his old place was because he was caught trying to steal some food, and was chased by the police.
He didn’t have time to grab anything from his hideout, so he was back to square one.
Even though the chase ended several minutes ago, his heart was still hammering away at his ribs. It was so loud that he was beginning to worry that the driver would hear it.
The car swerved and skidded. Whoever was driving was not very good at their job.
Bang!
Suddenly the car went over a speed bump, and everything was jostled.
It was barely anything, but for Ryan squashed between a bunch of random objects, it hurt.
Something metal slammed into his forehead, and before his brain could retake control of his mouth, he cried out.
“OW!!” He yelped, and clapped his hand over his mouth as if he could shove the traitorous noise back in there.
But it was too late.
Ryan heard a series of confused muttering, and felt as the car slowed down and stopped. He heard the car door slam as the driver walked over to the boot…
Okay, thought Ryan. You’ve done this before. Leap out of the boot screaming. Maybe push someone over. Big. Threatening.
He could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer…
Finally, the boot opened.
“ARRRR-“ Bellowed Ryan, throwing his arms up.
The driver yelped and threw a sharp punch at Ryan’s jaw.
His bellow turned into a cry as he tumbled out of the boot clutching his mouth.
“Oaaahhh.” Moaned Ryan.
“Whuh yuh doo daaat?”
Then he looked up into the bright green eyes of another child.
He bugged out his eyes, opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.
“Whuh yuh doo daaat?” He mimicked in a funny tone.
“Uh, first off,” He said, in his normal voice, “I didn’t hit you that hard. Second, you just jumped out of the boot of my car screaming your head off. I think I can be forgiven for letting a fist fly.”
“Your car?!” Ryan said.
The boy smirked.
“Okay, granted, it wasn’t mine to start with, but it is now.”
So that’s why he was such a bad driver! Thought Ryan.
He barely knew how to drive!
The strange boy grabbed Ryan’s hand and pulled him up.
He looked at Ryan for a while, seemingly deciding wether to trust him or not.
“Name’s Martin. What’s yours?” He said finally.
Ryan gulped. “I’m Ryan. Are you homeless as well?”
Martin barked a laugh.
“Yup! Can’t even remember living in a permanent home.” He exclaimed as he climbed back into the car.
“My mum carked it when I was born, and then it was just me and my dad. Then for some reason we were out on the streets.”
Martin paused.
“Can’t remember for the life of me why. Something about money and debt.”
He said, climbing out of the car with a tattered bag.
“That’s terrible.”
Said Ryan.
Martin shrugged.
“Ehhhh. Not really. Dad disappeared a year ago. It’s actually quite fun, running around stealing things.”
There was a pause.
“Right.” He said in a commanding tone.
“Let’s go.”
Ryan was confused.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere.” Martin called over his shoulder.
The duo drove for quite a while.
“Heeyy…” Said Ryan.
“Have… you… um… heard any weird sobs and cries lately? Like… like the night is crying?”
Martin gave him a look as if he had suggested the moon was made of cheese.
“Ummm…”
Said Ryan, now feeling extremely awkward and speechless.
“Never mind.”`
Eventually, they passed a large building. A sign stood a few meters away:
“The State Library Of NSW” Is what it said.
As they drew nearer to the Library, Ryan felt more and more uneasy, as if something was trying to force itself into the workings of Ryan’s mind.
Suddenly, it felt as if Ryan had this struggling form in his mouth, like he had just eaten a large frog. He opened his mouth, but instead of coughing and retching, he said,
“Hey, Martin. How about we sneak into the library and rest in there? It’s open to the public, and we won’t be constantly battling the elements.”
Martin thought for a moment.
“Hey, that’s not actually that bad of an idea.”
Martin strolled briskly past and disappeared into the state library.
It was a clear and quiet night, but Ryan could still hear the mournful sounds of the night crying out into the blackness.
The State Library seemed ominous at night. It was completely dark, and quiet.
Way too quiet.
The massive columns looked like teeth, and the windows looked like eyes, like the library was gnashing its teeth at him.
The gargoyle on top of the roof seemed to be glaring at him…
Wait. Gargoyle?! There was no Gargoyle there before!
Ryan’s head snapped around to look at the gargoyle, but it had disappeared.
He heard an odd flapping noise above him, and a horrible, rasping screech. The pushing feeling at his head, like something was messing with the very workings of his brain was back again. He grimaced and massaged his temples. Suddenly, an agonising streak of pain burned up his spine. His head throbbed one more time and then…
It stopped.
He surveyed his surroundings again. It wasn’t so bad. The library didn’t look aggressive. The columns looked like teeth. A big, jolly smiling mouth. And as for the gargoyle and the flapping noise and the screech…
An owl.
It was an owl.
Ryan chuckled at himself for being so silly.
What was he doing dawdling out here when there was so much fun to be had at the library.
“Martin! Wait for me!”
CHAPTER THE SECOND
“This looks like a good place.” Said Martin as they entered a large, grand room.
It had long desks and tables lined up with a few computers sitting on them, and around the edges rows and rows of books.
Ryan didn’t know it, but this was the Mitchell Library Reading Room.
“This place looks pretty cool.” He remarked to Martin.
“Yeah.” Muttered Martin.
His head was throbbing again-and the sobs of the night were even louder-he wondered if these things were connected.
Suddenly, he felt that strange, frog-in-mouth sensation.
He tried to resist it, but it didn’t work.
“How about we look through the library, like we give ourselves a tour, and then decide which room we should sleep in?” He blurted.
Martin scoffed.
“Bro, this place has a million rooms.”
But Ryan still thought it was a good idea, and now he found himself wandering the hallways.
He came to a door marked ARCHIVES, and stood there, listening. The cries of the night seemed to be coming from in there.
Ryan shuddered. He didn’t want to go in there. Who knows what lurked behind that door.
But… then again…it would be nice to discover the source of the moans and groans that kept him up at night.
Yes, it really would be.
Ryan opened the door and stepped inside.
It was dark and spooky in the archives, and all he could do was wonder along the endless rows of shelves and chests.
Finally, he came to the end of the aisle.
He was just about to swing to the left and go into the next aisle, but something stopped him.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
He suddenly felt so sad, and so lonely, that he could simply curl up somewhere and cry and moan, and it wouldn’t matter, because no one would hear him.
He slowly turned around…
And what his gaze fell on would change his life forever.
A wobbling, shuddering form appeared in front of him. Instead of seeing it, it was as if Ryan could feel it.
It radiated a mixture of hurt, confusion and rage. It was a small, crippled, horribly burnt child’s body with dark, black holes were the eyes and mouth were supposed to be.
Draped over its shoulders was a charred red raincoat.
He was face-to-face with a ghost.
Ryan wanted to scream as loud as he ever had, but his fear twisted it into a strangled croak.
It twitched and jittered like it barely had a grip on existence.
It reached out with an open hand and spoke in a wheezy, crackly voice:
“C-c-c… Haaaallllpp. M-meeee. C-c-c-c-c…”
Ryan got up and ran. He shoulder charged the ghost, and it fell over with a yelp.
As he sped away, his head started throbbing. Every step caused an ice cold jolt shot to sizzle down his back.
“N-n-n-nooooooo. N-n-noooooooo!”
It screeched.
It sounded so sad, so alone, Ryan almost felt sorry for it.
He could hear it screeching and running behind him.
Things were thrown.
Paintings were pulverised.
Relics were run over.
Walls were ruined.
Books were bashed.
The library was liquidated.
The further Ryan ran, the more vulgar and monstrous the ghost sounded. He didn’t feel sorry for it anymore. It was as if he no longer understood the ghost. He didn’t understand.
Those words echoed in his head.
Didn’t Understand. Didn’t Understand. Didn’t Understand. He didn’t understand.
But because he was too busy running from a ghost whom he did not understand, he ran straight into a wall.
He was asleep before he even hit the floor.
A small, desolate looking child rubbed the frail hand of his weak mother. She was lying in a hospital bed. The child was wearing a large, rosy red raincoat.
Something flashed and the child was sitting on a chair. The hospital and mother gone, the child was at home. His father was yelling at him, furious, horrified that his wife was gone. He obviously somehow blamed the child for killing the mother.
A white flash faded into the father and the child. They were both running away from a fierce bushfire. A charred tree fell on top of them.
Another white flash turned into the father and the child being dragged out of what little remained of the tree trunk. The child was dead. The father was still alive.
The father was ripped apart emotionally. First his wife, then his son. It was too much. He laid the red, rosy raincoat the child used to wear, and buried it, far, far away from his normal home...
Ryan awoke from one world of nightmares to another with a bang. His whole body felt like it was glued together with sweat. His head was throbbing, but this time it was a smashed-into-a-wall-while-running-away-from-a-ghost sort of headache, not the headache where something was tampering with his mind. Gladly, he wasn’t injured, or at least, he couldn’t feel any injuries.
He had a bad dream about this kid who died in a bushfire, but it wasn’t a normal dream… it was so vivid, so real, that Ryan almost thought he was the boy. It would certainly account for his aching body.
He began to sit up but then stopped immediately. The ghost was still out there, somewhere. He laid back down and pulled up the covers.
Hang on… covers?
Instead of lying on the bare floor, Ryan’s head was on a pillow and a small blanket had been draped over him.
He froze when he heard feet stomping down some stairs and a voice calling out his name. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut until they burned. The footsteps were getting closer and closer. He braced himself for his death…
“Oh!” Said Martin sarcastically upon seeing Ryan.
“I see you found your own place to settle down for the night. Where’d you even get all that?”
He gestured to the blanket and the pillow.
Ryan tried to scream about ghosts and burnt ghosts and weird dreams and fires, but he couldn’t. It felt like his throat had constricted around itself.
“Anyway,” Muttered Martin, reaching into a bag,
“Dinner.” He said, lobbing a half-eaten bag of chips at Ryan’s head.
“Ow.” Muttered Ryan.
He paused for a moment, realising he could talk.
“MARTIN!! THERE WAS A GHOST! A BURNT ONE! IN THE BASEMENT, um, THE ARCHIVES AND IT WAS ALL BURNT AND HORRIBLE AND IT WAS SAD OR SOMETHING AND I HAD A WEIRD DREAM AND-“
“Jeez, jeez, calm down first! Have some chippy whippies!”
“Some what?!”
“Chippy whippies. It’s what I call chips sometimes.”
Eventually, Ryan calmed down enough to tell Martin the whole story.
By the time he’d finished, Martin was rubbing his temples.
“Arrrrrr… My bloody jiffing head. It’s throbbing.”
Then he looked up at Ryan with clouded, unfocused eyes.
“Ghosts? Archives? Burns? Fires? Wow. You really must have hit your head hard.” Scoffed Martin.
“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
CHAPTER THE THIRD
Ryan huffed in exasperation. He was hoping that once he got to someone else everything would be okay.
“Martin! I saw it! With my own eyes! I’ll show you where it was.”
Martin smiled at him as if he was a young child who had suggested that atoms were made of chocolate.
“Nonsense. Ghosts only exist in storybooks for the weak minded. Silly child.”
“Nonsense? “Storybooks?” “Weak minded?” “Silly child?!”
Thought Ryan.
Since when did Martin talk like a shakespearean poet?
He jumped up and grabbed Martin by the arm.
“Oh, Lord! Where, pray tell, are you taking me?”
He said with a strange flourish in his voice.
Ryan felt a surge of bravery rush through his blood.
“I’m taking you to prove to you that this ghost is bloody well real.”
Ignoring Martin’s classical protests, Ryan dragged him into the Archives of the State library.
It wasn’t until he had set foot into the place that he realised he had the same mysterious, pushing feeling at his brain again.
His bravery melted away into fear as he realised he had lost control of his legs, which carried him across the floor, deeper into the archives.
Martin, obviously not wanting to meet a ghost, yanked his arm out of Ryan’s grip and ran away.
“Martin!” Called out Ryan as he took off after him.
Oddly enough, Martin seemed to know exactly where he was going, and before long Ryan had lost him. The echoing footsteps had seemingly been swallowed up.
All he could do was wander around calling.
Ryan was shaking with fear, and his eyes were playing tricks on him. Because of the low light, the weird blobs that form across your eyes looked like monsters and apparitions.
The click-clack of his feet echoed across the empty, deafeningly quiet aisles.
After a while, he noticed the footsteps were slightly out of timing with when his feet touched the ground.
There was an extra footstep added into the gaps of his.
He stopped.
But the footsteps didn’t.
Ryan barely had time to register this before the blackened figure came around the corner and put its hand on Ryan’s shoulder.
“S-s-stooooooopp. Heeeeeeeeelp.”
He wanted to stop but his instinct to get away had taken over.
Ryan took off with a bang, followed closely by the ghost.
The chase was horrible beyond words.
Ryan would have been toast instantly if this was a flat out, straight-pathed race so had to constantly to duck and weave and turn.
His head was throbbing.
The sound of the screeching his and the ghost’s feet pummelling the ground became softer and softer.
He turned a corner…
And almost ran smack bang into a wall again.
He whirled around, but it was too late. The ghost was on him.
“P-p-pleeeeaaasse. Heeeeeeelp.”
Ryan wanted to ask, but for some reason, he said:
“No! Get lost!”
The ghost drooped.
Then it sobbed.
Ryan felt like deflated balloon. Why had he said that?
He tried to apologise.
“I said get lost!”
The ghost stopped. Then looked up at Ryan.
Then it hissed. A most horrible, bloodcurdling hiss that would haunt Ryan for years.
Uh oh, thought Ryan.
He ran.
CHAPTER THE FOURTH
After the boy burnt to death in the bushfire, his spirit left the world of the living.
Many years later, a gardener was digging in a garden bed when he dug up the boy’s raincoat.
Because a piece of his past life was uncovered, the boy’s spirit was yanked back into the realm of the living, and linked to the raincoat.
The gardener submitted it to his boss, a rich businessman. The businessman was already a bit rotten and greedy with money, but after the raincoat was proven to be a historical find, he became filthy rich.
But he felt a strange pull to the coat whenever it was around.
Finally, the child’s ghost revealed himself.
The ghost child begged for his raincoat to be reburied, but the filthy rich businessman didn’t care. He was so spoilt rotten by his money that all he wanted in the world was more money.
He refused, and reported the ghost to the world.
All the officials came rushing in to investigate, but the child’s spirit made himself scarce.
Now all it looked like was that the businessman threw some dirt on a raincoat and made up a story about it.
He lost all his money, and became a laughing stock.
Furious at the spirit, the businessman locked the raincoat in a museum, fully aware that since it was not an as impressive item, would be stuffed into storage.
Not buried, but with no one to help.
A few years later, the businessman died in a metal health clinic, poor and in debt.
Just like the boy’s spirit, his spirit was not at peace, so it could not live the mortal realm.
Legend says it still lingers around, guarding the boy’s raincoat from possible helpers...
Ryan flew through the corridors, bashing into the shelves.
Another dream… but how? He wasn’t even asleep.
He tried to stop, but his legs didn’t want to. He wanted to apologise, but his mouth didn’t want to. He couldn’t. It was as if something was clamping his mouth shut and keeping his legs running.
He tried to fight the feeling off.
He struggled and jerked.
His head throbbed more than it had ever before.
The ghost was right in front of him, regarding him with curiosity, and…
Concern?
Finally, with his head feeling like lava, Ryan squeezed out a sentence.
“I want to help you! Its just that something is stopping me!”
That stopped the ghost in its tracks.
It growled in frustration.
“Sh…wie…tsen…baun!”
It rasped.
“I… know… you’re…there…”
It broke into a coughing fit.
“Ha, ha, ha.” Boomed a voice.
“I told you, Felix, I wouldn’t let you get away with it!”
CHAPTER THE FIFTH
The pressure and restrictions on Ryan’s mouth and legs were suddenly lifted, and everything he wanted to say and do came out in a torrent.
“NO! I’m sorry, i can’t…huh? What? I can’t stop! Heeeeelp! I can’t stop! Arrrrghh! What’s happening to meeee?! Im sorry somethings controlling me- arrrgh my head…”
He screamed, yelled, yelped and whimpered as he ran back and fourth across the room.
When he had done, a large man had appeared. He had a tiny, piggy-looking face with minuscule glasses perched on his short nose and a smooth head. But that was the end of his littleness.
He quite fat and short, wore a dark crimson tuxedo and had a vein swelling on his forehead.
Ryan processed what they had said to each other.
“Your name’s Felix?!” He exclaimed to the ghost.
“You think I didn’t have a name?” Rasped ‘Felix’.
The businessman was offended.
“What about ME?” He growled, clenching his fists.
Ryan turned to the demanding little man.
“You’re… ummm… the ghost, i mean Felix, said you were… Kite-in-a-bum?”
The man’s head swelled up like a seething purple tomato.
Felix laughed.
“That’s much better name than Shwietsenbaun. Maybe I should call you that from now on.”
“BE QUIET!!!!” Roared ‘Shwietsenbaun’.
Felix seemed to remember what was going on.
“Why are you here? HOW are you here? And why can’t you just let me go?”
Asked Felix.
“Because you RUINED me!!” Bellowed Shwietsenbaun.
“I was rich from finding your grubby little coat. If you had just revealed yourself, we would have been the richest people on earth!”
For Ryan, everything clicked.
The dreams! He thought. They weren’t dreams— they were visions of the past! Felix died, but his raincoat was linked to him and when it was dug up he was forced back into the mortal realm! He wanted Shwietsenbaun to bury the raincoat, but he just wanted money, and showed every one the ghost, but there was no ghost, so he looked like a raving idiot, and when he died he wasn’t at peace so part of him remained in the mortal realm, making sure Felix’s raincoat never got buried!
Obviously, the bad guy was not Felix.
“How are we going to get rid of him?” Ryan said to Felix.
“Wha… You’re siding with HIM?!” Screeched Shwietsenbaun.
“He took EVERYTHING from me!!”
Ryan shook his head.
“You lost your money because you refused to help a poor child’s spirit who died in a fire!” He spluttered.
“Can’t you see how terrible that is?!”
Shwietsenbaun frowned so deeply his eyebrows connected.
“The only way we can return him to the spirit world is to put him at peace.”
Felix whispered to Ryan.
“Well, that’s going to be hard.”
He muttered.
“All I wanted was fame! And admiration!” Shwietsenbaun spat. “I wanted people to recognise me!”
Just then, a library employee came strolling round the corner with a mop and a bucket of soapy water.
“Hey!” She said, freezing on the sight of Felix, Ryan and Shwietsenbaun.
“What are you people doing here? You can’t be here! This is employee-only!”
Shwietsenbaun wants to be recognised, thought Ryan. So that’s what i’ll give him.
“Uh, lady? This man, here.” Ryan said pointing at Shwietsenbaun, “Is a magic ghost.”
The woman was not convinced.
“I’m not convinced.” She said.
“But you will be.” Said Shwietsenbaun.
“Look! I can disappear!” He said as he disappeared.
“I can make you say and think and do stuff!” He said.
“I love tacos.” Said the woman.
“They are yummy.”
She crouched on the floor and began breakdancing.
Shwietsenbaun went on to showcase all his ghostly powers.
By the end of it, the woman’s mouth was open in a ginormous O.
She called everyone in the museum over, and finally,
Shwietsenbaun was recognised.
And so he was at peace.
Slowly, Shwietsenbaun faded from this world and into the next.
CHAPTER THE SIXTH
Several weeks later, Ryan, Martin and Felix were burying Felix’s battered raincoat.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” Asked Ryan.
“Yes, i’m ready. The more I stay in this world, the more I feel like death.” Felix replied.
“But one last question before you go…were the cries of the night I kept hearing from you?”
“Yes. Because of what happened last time with Shwietsenbaun, I was more wary of who I called out to. I decided to only call to those who would understand and want to help.”
There was a pause.
“The only way you could hear my calls would be if you understood my pain, and had experienced it yourself.
“I wanted to go home.”
Felix looked at Ryan.
“And so do you.”
Ryan sighed and began to tell his story.
“I used to live with a very rich man who was my dad. He didn’t really like me. He saw me as a pest, who got in the way of his work.
“But one day, he brought home this massive glass pot, and in the glass pot there were a bunch of beautiful fish.
I can’t remember what type they were. They were just really colourful.
Anyway, he said it was amazingly expensive, and that no one was to touch it.
But one day, I wanted to look into it.
I leaned too far… and fell head-first into the tank.
Even though it was massive, I couldn’t flip myself over in it, so I found myself completely stuck.
I was in there panicking, I couldn’t breathe and my head was stuck underwater. Almost unconscious, I picked up a rock that was in the fish tank. I smashed the glass until it broke. Water went everywhere. Then my father came rushing in. He didn’t care that his only son had almost drowned, only that his son had cost him a mound of money. I didn’t want to live in a place where my father valued me less than a tank of pretty fish, so I ran away. And here I am now.”
Ryan didn’t realise he was crying until some tears ran into his nose and he choked.
“Hey!” Said Martin suddenly.
“I read about this rich guy that had his son Ryan run away!”
Ryan felt a jolt go down his spine.
“He was really worried, apparently. In fact, he spent most of his wealth looking for you, and has gone quite in debt.”
Ryan choked once again.
“Come on.” Said Felix, standing up and putting his raincoat back on.”
“Let’s go reunite you with your dad.”
٩(🌔ᴗ🌔)—🪄✨ THE END.