Diary of a Part Time Ghost (Ghosts & Shadows Book 1)

by Vered Ehsani

  “Ash,” the man demanded, “what are you doing here?”

  I slowly turned around, wide-eyed and feeling faint, until I gazed up into a familiar face. I smiled. “East Wind! Wow, I’m actually glad to see you. And you’re still alive! I mean, obviously.” I breathed deeply.

  East Wind looked amused by the reaction. “Yes, obviously,” he replied.

  “We have to get you out of here. Is there any way for you to climb out of one of the port holes? Sara is just outside with a rowboat.”

  East Wind shook his head. “They’re only large enough to let in air. How did you get in?”

  I chewed my lips and looked at the other end of the shadowy corridor, where the doorway was. “It’s complicated. Follow me.”

  “It’s locked,” East Wind informed me when we reached the only way in or out.

  “I know. Wait here.” I hesitated and then added, “This might look strange, but I’m not a ghost. Really.”

  East Wind looked at me curiously, an expression that quickly changed to amazement. “Where are you?” he demanded.

  “Just here,” I replied, and East Wind jumped about, searching the air. “Wait a minute. I’ll be back.”

  I floated through the door and found myself on the dimly lit deck, on which a few soldiers were sleeping in various locations. A small group lounged against some sacks stacked at the stern, playing cards. No one seemed to be looking toward the doorway. I solidified, carefully lifted up the bar that locked the door, and eased it open. East Wind’s astonished face popped out.

  “What are you?” he asked, his usually stoic expression a comedic mixture of surprise, awe, curiosity, and fear.

  I tried not to laugh at East Wind’s expression; I didn’t think it would ever be a good idea to laugh at him, even if I was a ghost. I replied, “Like I said, it’s complicated and there’s no time to explain. Let’s go.”

  Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, we began to creep toward the bow, where the anchor line was. Apart from the chatting card players, the deck was quiet. I dashed to the side railing and crouched down behind several barrels. Peering carefully between the railing bars, I could see the rowboat. Sara’s pale face was anxiously studying the ship, and she looked relieved when she spotted me. East Wind started to follow when a young, red-haired soldier appeared from behind a mast where he had apparently been standing and watching the card game.

  “I’m going to take a look-see,” he called out to the others.

  “Sure, Jake,” replied another, his focus intent on his cards. “I’m sure there’s a whole lot to look-see.” The others laughed. Jake frowned with annoyance, and then ambled along, his path taking him directly toward where East Wind was trying unsuccessfully to hide behind a crate.

  “Time to distract,” I muttered and became translucent. Hovering several centimeters above the deck, I floated toward Jake, who at first seemed quite oblivious to the specter that was approaching.

  “Boooooo,” I wailed softly, and Jake finally looked up, a smile still lingering on his lips from whatever he had been thinking about. The smile rapidly wilted as the soldier’s jaw dropped and a hand went up to rub his eyes.

  In that moment, I glanced at East Wind, who was staring in as much shock as the soldier, and gestured for him to wait. I then moved even closer to the soldier, who was now walking backward, his face pasty white.

  “Boooooooo!” I tried again, and waved my arms in front, as if to reach for Jake. Yeah, a little mean but kind of fun, and it did the job. The man spun about and started running down the deck toward the soldiers playing cards. “Go, go, go,” I said in the same ghostly fashion. East Wind wasted no time and ran toward the bow.

  “A ghost!” Jake finally managed to shriek out as he approached the stern.

  His companions glanced up lazily. “Have you been into the drink, boy?” an older soldier asked sternly.

  “No, sir, captain! I swear I haven’t, sir!” Jake gasped out. “It’s the boy of a ghost. I mean, the ghost of a boy! I swear it!”

  I glanced at the bow, just in time to see a moccasin disappear over the railing. East Wind was on the anchor line and climbing down to the rowboat.

  “Come see for yourselves!” Jake continued.

  I moved toward the side and peered over. East Wind was almost at the boat, but the two would need more time to get clear of the ship. I waved to Sara, who clapped her hands on her mouth when she saw my ghostly form silhouetted against the starry sky.

  “Go!” I mouthed and urgently waved my arms toward the shore. Sara nodded and began to untie the rope just as East Wind dropped into the rowboat. Satisfied, I turned to face the soldiers, who were giving Jake a rough time.

  “All right, boy!” the captain finally growled. “Let’s go see this ghost of yours, but if there’s nothing there, by heavens, I’ll put you on burial duty!” Grumbling, the captain pushed himself up and brushed by Jake, who stood shaking.

  I wasn’t that mean. I felt a moment of pity for the young soldier; it wasn’t a nice trick to play, even if it was with good intentions. To make up for it, I decided to help Jake out, in a way, and at the same time give my friends more opportunity to get away from the prison ship. Moaning aloud, I floated toward the soldiers. Lantern light reflected off me and passed through me, giving me an eerie glow. The captain stopped in his tracks at the sight of the boy ghost, as did the others.

  “See! I told you!” Jake gasped out in a high-pitched voice. “This ship’s haunted, I tell you! Haunted!”

  “Ye-e-e-s,” I groaned. “Boooo!”

  Satisfied (thrilled, actually) with my work, I didn’t stay to enjoy the reaction my trick had produced on the now blubbering, ashen-faced soldiers who were all staggering backward toward the stern and their forgotten cards. Instead, I vanished and zoomed over the water to the little boat, which East Wind was rowing at a good speed toward the small flotilla of rowboats that we had left adrift on our way to the ship. Sara leaned over and grabbed the ropes, determined to return them to their owner. I smiled at her commitment to not being a thief, or at least to being an honest one.

  They reached the river bank, just upstream of the dock. The old man had retreated to his hut and was now sitting on the veranda with the dog, studying the river as if waiting for us to return. East Wind jumped out and dragged the boats onto the shore. I waited until they had started walking up to the forest edge before materializing. The other two turned around when they heard the sound of small stones crunching underfoot.

  “Ash!” Sara cried out in delight. “Well done!”

  East Wind studied me thoughtfully, and I squirmed under the intense gaze. “Yes, thank you,” the man finally spoke.

  “Come on!” Sara urged us. “We have to find Samuel and my dad!”

  “Yes, and I know how,” East Wind declared grimly, his face determined.

  Sara looked at the man. I could tell she was battling with some internal dilemma, even before she tentatively asked, “It’s not going to involve breaking more rules and running for our lives, is it?”

  “Probably,” East Wind replied with an uncharacteristically cheerful smile.

  “Great,” Sara whispered weakly. “Just great.”

  Chapter 17

  Having the luxury of turning into a ghost, I wasn’t quite as nervous as Sara about East Wind’s mysterious plan, but I still had my worries. They involved shadows that apparently can bite and getting lost in a century without electricity and indoor plumbing, and that was just for starters. But there wasn’t time to dwell on such inconveniences. We moved into the dark shelter of the trees and marched swiftly toward town. After a short time, we were walking along roads that were vaguely familiar and quite deserted. Although it wasn’t that late in the evening, there was an eerie quiet to the town. I imagined the silence of someone breathing in just before he screams. I then banished that little image in the “don’t go there” part of my brain.

  I wasn’t too surprised when we entered the intersection where the Liberty Tree st
ood. I wasn’t surprised, and I wasn’t happy. I can never think of that place the same way again. A crowd, considerably larger than the previous one, was just dispersing from what appeared to be yet another protest rally. This time, there were no soldiers about. Hooray for small mercies.

  “Why are we here again?” Sara asked, annoyed and perturbed. Turns out she also didn’t have happy memories of that place. “My family’s not here.”

  East Wind didn’t answer as he scanned the thinning crowd. Then, with a determined expression, he began to walk briskly, weaving through the clusters of people ambling along or conversing in hushed voices. Sara and I had to almost jog to keep up.

  “Where are …” I began but stopped at a dark glance from our guide. When it comes to giving dark looks that kill all conversation, East Wind should definitely win an award. There wasn’t much I could do apart from shrug and try to keep up. After a few minutes, we turned sharply into an alley, and here we slowed down. Ahead, the shadowy form of a man dodged around piles of garbage and moved purposefully onward. The man veered to the side, disappearing down another narrow alley. We followed cautiously, peering around the corner. There was no one else around, and the silence was only marked by the occasional snatch of conversation drifting out of the windows of the houses that lined the alley. We continued to trail the man, who didn’t once look back or pause, but continued onward through the alleyways. It felt like we were in a labyrinth, a dark, smelly labyrinth. (I did mention the piles of garbage, right?) Only the occasional glimmer of light from nearby windows provided us with something to see by, barely.

  Just as Sara opened her mouth to speak, the man ahead abruptly stopped, and East Wind pulled us down and behind a pile of snow-covered something (I’m guessing garbage, by the smell and weird shape). Up ahead, the man glanced about furtively, and then rapped very softly on a door, so softly that I could barely hear it. Just as softly, the door eased open, spilling light onto the man, and there was a brief, muted exchange of words. Then the light vanished. Wordlessly, East Wind walked up to the same door and knocked, then gestured for us to join him. The door opened ever so slightly, a crack at most.

  “I’m looking for Jacob Connel,” East Wind immediately stated. “I was asked to bring his child to him.”

  The crack widened marginally, and part of a face poked out and peered down at us. Then the door opened completely.

  “By Jove, it is Connel’s child!” a heavy-set man boisterously exclaimed. “Hey, you lot! It’s all right!” he called back over his shoulders. The silence faded as relieved voices resumed interrupted conversations. “Well, come on in, come on in!” the man said as he waved us inside. “No point standing out in the cold, and not on a night such as tonight! No, you don’t want to be wandering about tonight. And not a child of Connel. You look a lot like him, you do! Has anyone ever told you that?”

  Sara and I gawked up at the man. H was plump and tall, with very red cheeks, a couple of chins, and thick gray hair. He sported a short white beard, and his eyes twinkled cheerfully. Imagine Santa Claus without the red suit or reindeer.

  Sara gulped audibly and replied, “Yes, sir. My mother used to say that often.”

  “Well, God bless your mother! How is she, girl?” the man asked as if he had known all the family for years. He patted Sara on the shoulder with a meaty hand, almost knocking her down.

  “She’s dead, sir.”

  “Oh. Well, now, that’s a great pity.” He paused, and then continued with a slightly lower level of joviality, “So, let’s get you warmed up. I normally would introduce you to everyone, but tonight we’re not sharing names with each other, especially with this group. Get my drift?” We didn’t, but he obviously assumed we understood. He winked at us as he led the way into a dimly lit room, which was filled with at least twenty men, all crammed together and keeping their eyes averted.

  “What should we call you, then?” Sara asked politely, her eyes wide as she gazed about at the room.

  The man thought for a moment. “Well, that’s a point. Let’s see … Jack. Call me Jack.”

  “Yeah, and you can call me Jill!” a man called out. His crooked teeth flashed beneath the dark beard that seemed to engulf most of his face.

  Jack ignored the outburst and turned now to East Wind and me. He eyed us carefully. Quite clearly, we weren’t going to get the seal of approval as easily as a child of Connel. It was apparent from his expression that he wasn’t sure who was the strangest-looking of us two.

  Before he could say anything, Sara interrupted anxiously. “Sir, I’m looking for my brother, Samuel, and my father. Do you know where they could be?”

  Distracted, Jack gazed down. “I know where your father is. But that’ll have to wait until the morning, I’m afraid. Right now, we’re in the midst of a revolution!”

  “Hush up,” growled the man who called himself Jill while scratching at his beard. “Now’s not the time to be initiating this lot.”

  Jack waved the protest aside. “Come now, this is Connel’s child! And I believe this savage is known in our circles.”

  East Wind looked unimpressed by the introduction, and I was shocked. But no one else seemed to think anything wrong with the word or tone used. Jack glanced at me skeptically but shrugged when Sara moved closer to me and East Wind placed a hand protectively on my shoulder.

  “At any rate,” he continued, “we can’t leave them here now, unattended—just in case, you know what I mean? So they’ll have to come with us. Now,” he said, and his tone shifted and became graver and more commanding. All the men leaned closer in anticipation. “You all know what’s what. We’ll join up again near the docks, where you’ll go to your assigned group. We’ll move quietly, efficiently, and peacefully. Anything else will not be tolerated. There’ll be no looting or vandalism of any kind, apart from what’s already planned, of course.” He paused as the men chuckled appreciatively, and then continued, “I mean it, men. We must uphold the standards of the Sons of Liberty.”

  “Sons of Liberty!” Sara and I both whispered at the same time, eyes wide with awe.

  “Mark my words!” Jack continued grandly, enjoying his moment in the spotlight. “This very night of December 16, 1773, will be remembered throughout history!” There was another cheer, followed by a few urgent warnings to keep quiet.

  Excited, I turned to Sara and East Wind. I may not be a history scholar, but even I knew that date. “This is amazing!” I exclaimed. “It’s the Boston Tea Party!”

  East Wind and Sara both stared at me like I had started talking Chinese. “The what?” Sara finally asked.

  I saw their blank faces and shook my head. “Oh, forget it. You’ll see soon enough.”

  “And don’t forget your disguises,” Jack reminded them, his chins wobbling in unison as he nodded his head. “God speed.”

  The meeting disbanded, and each man went out the back door and along the alley. Not sure what to do, I turned to East Wind, my question obvious. Before I could ask it, the man called Jill intervened with the answer. “You lot will be staying with us.” His tone was calm and level and final.

  The time passed painfully slowly, and always either Mr. Jill, as I now thought of him, or Jack was in the room. They were keeping a close watch on us while preparing for whatever it was that they were planning on doing. Something about planned looting and vandalism, I remembered from Jack’s little speech. Whatever that meant, I didn’t think it was a great idea for us to be tagging along. Then again, it didn’t matter what I might think. Our friendly captors didn’t seem to give us much choice or opportunity to escape.

  “Right, I’m ready,” Jack finally announced as he made his grand appearance while Mr. Jill left the room. I stared at him, as did Sara. East Wind took one look and turned away. I wasn’t sure if it was to hide a look of contempt or of laughter.

  “What … what are you wearing?” I stuttered out, and heard East Wind make a choking noise behind me. He was trying desperately not to laugh. I smothered my grin by biting m
y lip.

  Jack looked down at his outfit and then up at us with a slightly bewildered expression. “Why, my disguise, of course.”

  Now Sara was coughing and covering her mouth with a hand. “And what disguise might that be?”

  “Of a native, of course!” Jack exclaimed. “Like him!”

  Sara looked from Jack to East Wind and back, her eyes wide with merriment and disbelief. “But you look nothing like him.”

  Jack waved away the protest. “Nonsense. It’ll be enough to fool the British troops on a dark night. And that’s all that matters.”

  With one hand, he smoothed down a horrible, multi-colored woolen blanket that was wrapped about his shoulders. In the other hand, he carried a hatchet that was smaller than Maggie’s kitchen knife (in other words, it might be useful for chopping onions, but that’s about it). His face and hands had been smeared with coal dust, but not very well. Streaks of skin color intermingled with the black face paint, making him look more like a zebra than any native I could imagine, unless he was thinking of a zebra, which is a native of Africa. Mr. Jill returned shortly thereafter, dressed in a very similar manner, with the same skin-coloring technique. The two dressed-up men looked each other up and down and nodded in satisfaction.

  “It’ll do very well,” Jack stated, while East Wind made another choking noise. I cleared my throat to hide my snickers.

  “What about them?” Mr. Jill asked as Jack led the way to the back door.

  “They’ll have to come with us to Griffin’s Wharf,” Jack explained. “Young Connel here should have something to cover herself. The others are dark enough.” With that, he tossed a brown blanket over Sara’s head and smeared some coal dust hurriedly on her face. She grimaced in disgust. Then the five of us crept out the back door and moved quickly and quietly through the back alleys, not daring to speak. I kept glancing about, expecting at any minute to see mounted soldiers galloping around the corner, guns firing. Only silence and shadows greeted me. That wasn’t exactly comforting. I vaguely wondered why I wasn’t seeing more demented shadows. Not that I was complaining or anything, but it did seem a bit too peaceful.