Alex: A Rylee Adamson Short Story - Plot & Excerpts
Hell, I could see them floating between the walls, pushing their way around so they could get a better look at us. Five of them, four women and one man, all dressed in strange clothes from what looked like different time periods. Rylee didn’t seem to see them, though, walking through one of them. I, on the other hand, worked my way around them, the very idea of walking through them giving me the willies. “Giselle?” Rylee called out as we walked through the living room. I pressed myself against her leg, the specters and their empty eyes unnerving me, the hair along my spin rising into a semi-stiff peak. “Ghosties,” I whispered. Rylee ignored me. “Giselle, where are you?” Her voice floated down the stairs to us, singing a tune I didn’t recognize, but the words were clear. “Hush baby, my doll, I pray you don’t cry, and I’ll give you some bread and some milk by and by; or perhaps you like custard, or maybe a tart, then to either you’re welcome with all of my heart.
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