Mr. Bailey

I've been absent from [Fiction] Friday over the last two weeks. Just busy and then didn't feel well due to an ear infection. I wasn't in a creative mood as a result.

This week's [Fiction] Friday post theme: A covert trip into an attic reveals something unexpected.

DJ came back to her room after getting a large bowl of popcorn for everyone to share. "What did I miss?"

Allie flipped open the latest "Seventeen" magazine to reveal a rather sexy picture of Zac Efron. "Couldn't you just die?!? He's so hot!"

"He's okay," Ginger piped in, peering over the issue of "Teen Beat" that featured the Jonas Brothers.

DJ tossed a few pieces of popcorn at Ginger. "Joe Jonas is all yours, when Demi's done with him. Anyway, are we going to watch "17 again" or what?"

"I have a better idea" Allie said, putting down her magazine. Let's do makeovers!

"My mom never lets me wear makeup and you know it. She'll kill me!" Ginger hid behind her magazine again.

"Come on girls, this is a slumber party. Let's tell ghost stories. Did you know that there's a ghost in my house? Madison told me about him."

"Your sister is such a liar. She's just jealous that you're having a slumber party while she got grounded for making out with a guy or something like that. So, who wants to try out my newest nail colors?"

"She drove our mom's car to McDonald's by herself while on her permit."

"Ooooh. Such a rebel. Anyway, I'm all for the ghost story. Makeovers are stupid."

"Thanks Ginger." Allie grumbled while starting on the first layer of Bad Girl Blue on her toes.

"So, there's this ghost named Mr. Bailey who lives in our attic. He's here to avenge the murder of his wife and daughter, who were killed in this very room."

"Ew! I hope I'm not sitting on blood." Ginger jumped up, knocking over some of the popcorn.

"Seriously Ginger, it's just a story." Allie was now working on her fingernails with Nights of Passionfruit.

"If I may continue---" DJ's story was interrupted by a loud crash from above.

"What was that?!?" Ginger was shaking now.

"Why, Mr. Bailey, of course!"

"I think it's time we go to your attic to check it out for ourselves. Then we can prove that Mr. Bailey doesn't exist." Allie put down her nail polish and started blowing on her fingernails to quickly dry them, while balancing on the balls of her feet to not mess up the work she did on her toes.

"There's no way we're doing that. My mom said the attic is off limits. It's not safe up there. Too many broken floor beams."

"I think somebody is too chicken," Allie taunted.

"You go up there by yourself if you're so interested. You're the one who didn't care for a ghost story in the first place." DJ tried to call Allie's bluff this time.

"Fine. I'll call out if I need backup."

DJ and Ginger went back their respective spots on the bed and bean bag chair, where they immersed themselves in another set of the latest teen magazine issues. They were interrupted by a shout from above. "Hey DJ, do you have a flashlight? It's really dark up here."

"I hope you're being careful." DJ shouted up to the attic. "If you get hurt, my mom will never let me hear the end of it. I'll probably be grounded from sleepovers for life." Just then, they both heard a howling sound and some rustling.

"What are you doing in my home? Did you kill Margie and Bethany?" The voice was low and gravelly.

Allie grabbed a flashlight from DJ and swung it in the general direction of the sound. She then saw an image of a man on the back wall. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared. She screamed and dropped her flashlight and scrambled back down the steps, nearly tripping on DJ who was at the bottom. "I saw Mr. Bailey! You were right!"

"I think I should go home. This is getting too realistic." Ginger started putting her magazines back into her bag.

"Maybe now that he knows we know about him, he'll go away," DJ suggested. "Let's watch the movie now and forget this ever happened. We don't want my mom to know what we saw."

"Can we watch downstairs? I don't want to be near the attic right now." Ginger reluctantly stopped packing and headed for the stairs leading to the family room.

"Sounds good. We're not going to let a stupid old ghost ruin our night of fun!"

"Yeah. Stupid old ghost." Allie, looking pale, followed them downstairs.

In the attic, Madison giggled quietly to herself as she packed up the old slide projector and microphone. Twelve year-olds are so gullible.