He picked the book up and started flipping the pages. "Just autographs, nothing important," he said and put the book back in its place. "Miranda, I'm starting to think that there's nothing here - I mean, we've seen no ghosts or any other strange stuff. The only thing we've seen is a painting,"

Miranda had no reply and picked up the long black book again. She felt like Declan was missing something. She flipped through the pages again. Each yearbook-style autograph was signed in an eloquent calligraphy. She noticed one girl dated her page "March 24, 1897".

"Declan, something's up here. It's dated March 24, 1897. That's not at the end of the year, not even at the end of the semester," Miranda said, still reading the autographs.

"I can't believe they even have stuff that old up here. This is a historian's dream," Declan said grinning. The history of the book was intriguing to him. He went back to the filing cabinet with the school newspapers and looked around some more. Miranda continued to read as Declan looked through the school newspapers.

He was disappointed to find out that the newspapers started in 1940, not any earlier. He grabbed an edition hoping for some interesting tidbits.

"Declan..this girl died,"


"At the end of the book. it says "Elizabeth Anne Goffenberger. Rest in Peace. 1882 - 1897"

Just then, the door slammed shut with a loud bang. Probably the wind, Miranda thought.

"Miranda, I think that was her,"


"The girl. I think she just slammed the door,"

"Declan, don't jump to conclusions,"

"I mean it! The windows are closed in this room. There aren't any other windows around here. Plus it slammed just as you read the death date. I think we just found ourselves a lead,"

Miranda put the autograph book down and looked around for other remnants around that time. Declan started reading that 1940 edition he picked up before he was interrupted by the door slamming.

There on the second page read: The Institute of Notre Dame, our own home, is reaching its anniversary of hundred years of service in just seven years. It's nearing the holiday of
Halloween, where children are treated to candy and everyone dresses creatively. The Institute is home to many ghost stories and scary tales of the like. None of these should be taking too seriously so don't be scared stiff out of the school just yet. Perhaps the most popular ghost story here is about a young girl wandering the halls day and night. Many students will say they've seen her in between classes traveling to their next class. She doesn't dress in everyday uniform: rather, a rather outdated long jumper. She seems to be around the age of our everyday underclassmen. Some say she was a girl that died here when the school was also a boardinghouse. Others say she was a student that never finished here cut off by her death so she still goes to school everyday. No one is quite sure what she is. But this
writer has never seen her and surely doesn't believe in ghosts. Be
forewarned upperclassmen, the Sisters don't appreciate you making up
stories to scare the freshman and sophomores.

"That's our girl!!" Declan yelled out in surprise. "Miranda, I have an idea," he said with a grin.