Ghosts of the Windfarm

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 7 (v.1)

Submitted: July 21, 2011

Reads: 143

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Submitted: July 21, 2011



Jamie dragged himself along the road back to Aith.  He felt ashamed of running off like that, though he was too worried about Mary to realise.  What if she was…dead?  His Dad was almost certainly dead, so what if they killed people the moment they were kidnapped.


Jamie began to cry.  He couldn’t go on any more.  He felt so tired… He stupidly laid on the ground in a field and fell asleep.




He was woken up by the cries of running sheep.  Jamie quickly got up, and realised it was quite late.  He looked around to see why the sheep were running.  He then half-collapsed suddenly, and fell onto his knees; he was freezing.  Was this hypothermia?

The sheep were still running, but Jamie didn’t care.  He looked to the nearest village, which was Bixter.  He slowly stumbled in that direction.

In the distance were 3 silhouettes, each holding a club.  Jamie stopped suddenly when he saw them – they’d seen him.  They ran towards him, Jamie tried to run but his feet gave in and he fell to his knees again.  They surrounded him.

“Come with us!” one of them said sternly, clubbing him lightly, but still firmly, on the back.  He felt so weak it pushed him into the ground.

“His friend put up more of a fight than this!” a woman spat.

“He looks dreadful,” a man with a kinder voice than the other two, said.

Jamie lay there, shaking, not out of fear, but of rage.  They’d taken Mary, and probably killed her.  They’d taken his Dad, and probably killed him!  Not to mention Mary’s grandparents…

He threw himself up and lashed out at the woman, who tripped up on a stone behind her.  He then kicked one of the men extremely hardly, and he fell down too.  The last man, one with a deep scar going right through the centre of his face, pulled out a gun and pointed it at Jamie.

“Nice try,” he said in a cruel voice.  “But there’s no way a 14 year old can stop what we’re trying to do.”

The other two got up, and the woman hit Jamie so hard he could hardly think due to the excruciating pain.  The other grabbed his arms from behind him.  They then half dragged him towards the hills.

Everything started to go black, and Jamie went totally limp.  He heard a siren, then gunfire.  He then passed out.


“We aren’t meant to intervene,” Archa said. “But sometimes it’s necessary.  Do you really think tactics won the First World War?  Why else did Henry VIII choose not to take his own life?”

“So you lot have been meddling all through history?” Robert asked.

“Basically, since there have been humans, there have been ghosts.  There are animal ghosts too, but they don’t do much besides wait until their killer dies.”

“Does everyone become ghosts?” Robert asked, though not really wanting to know.

“No, they don’t,” Archa, explained.  “Some people get past this world, into something beyond human comprehension.  But some don’t.  And we only get through when we are forgiven.”

“Forgiven?  By whom?  And for what?  I’m not religious, but are you telling me it’s true?” Robert cried.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.  I say forgiven, because when a ghost “meddles” and does a good deed, they get to go through.  Ours so happens to be to stop an evil plot.”

“Oh yeah, back to the mission,” Robert said, frowning.  “I don’t even see why-!”

Henry re-appeared out of nowhere, stopping Robert in mid sentence. That would take getting used to.

“Would you like to meet the rest of the gang?” Henry asked.


© Copyright 2017 Mathew Nicolson. All rights reserved.