Lily and the Ghost of Michael Thorne

NP Haley's ancestors lived in the Boot-hill of Missouri since the early 1800's. She and her husband, Ron, now live in the suburbs of St Louis, Missouri. She loves to write, of course, and read about southern American history. She went to college in St Louis and Moreno Valley, California. She has three daughters and three grandsons. All her books are available through Amazon, Kindle, your local bookstores. She would love to hear your opinion after reading her books. Contact her at Nphaley@outlook.com Her published books are: Lily and the Ghost of Michael Thorne Lily and the Ghost of Tillie Brown Lily and the Ghost of Peg-Leg Paddy McGee TheAudacious Ghost Adventures of Phineas Pennypacker She is now working on: "Lily and the Ghost of Annabelle Bloome" (Dec. 2018) and "My Name is Lucy" (2019)

Feeling someone or something looking at her, Lily peered into the shrouded forest and buildings along the narrow alleyway. Blinking rapidly to make sure her eyes were not deceiving her, she spotted a lone shadow leaning against the side of a murky building. She stopped, swallowed and blinked her eyes to get a better look. Was it a leprechaun? Was it a haint? Her heart was in her throat and the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up and once again goose bumps popped up on her arms and legs as the blood in her veins turned icy. The shadow did not move, but she could feel the stare of the cold dark eyes.. The beings face was hidden from her view and her heart gave a lurch when it reached out and motioned for her to come closer. She tried to run, but her legs refused to move. They were not reacting to her brain's commands. Fear froze her muscles. "Move, move, move," she brain-screamed, but nothing happened! Her legs refused to budge. The shadow moved as if coming toward her, but stopped when a shutter on a second-floor window above him banged open. A woman stuck her head out the window and looked around. "Well, Jack," the woman called out in a booming voice, "it could be God's own boots stomping right outside our window, but this fog is so thick we couldn't see him even if he was wearing candles on his boot straps," Turning her head, the woman yelled at someone behind her, "Tis as thick as river mud, this fog is." Once again she turned and looked out the window, "Get off your lazy duff and get out there ya'self iff'en ya want to be seein' what the noise is, I'm not going out in the stuff!" Lily had not heard the noise the woman was talking about. All she could see was the shadow. Again, she squinted her eyes to get a better look and this time she could see his clothing and ...it was a man and he wore a military uniform. "Whoa!" she muttered, "Who in the hind-leg-of-a-hound dog is that?" The man was in a full soldier uniform as he slowly began walking toward her again with his hat pulled down over his face;, preventing Lily from making out his identity. He had a full beard and mustache with a slight smile; Lily didn't know if she should feel relief or fear. The shadow wore a long military coat, open along the front with military emblems on the shoulders. As he drew closer, Lily could see he was holding something in his hand, as if he wanted her to take it. She couldn't make out what it was, but it lay in his open, outstretched palm. "Lily-Beth," the shadow called to her in a soft, low voice, "Lily-Beth, come here. Please, I need to talk to ya." Lily thought her poor heart would surely stop right on the spot. The only person who had ever called her by that name was Michael Thorne. But Michael Thorne was dead! He died in the war. The shadow was not quite half way to her when the fog suddenly tumbled back in with a quick, distinct 'whoosh' and totally covered him and pulled him into its dense shroud. The upstairs window slammed shut and Lily's muscles woke up. She started running as fast as she possibly could, expecting, at any moment, to feel the icy hands of death grab her ankles and pull her back into the fog. She ran for what seemed like forever with her chest burning from breathing so hard and water was running down the corners of her eyes. She ran and ran, all the while quietly singing under her breath, interrupted by loud gasps for air, one of her Pa's merry Irish tunes about the washer- woman; hoping it would calm her nerves. She ran and sang until she could barely breathe. Was the shadow someone trying to help her find Caitlin or were they up to evil deeds? Glancing over her shoulder, she saw no one following but that didn't mean they weren't back there somewhere. Still breathing heavily, she bent over and rested her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. Lifting her head, she peered back down the road again. No one followed.