Note: I want to thank everyone that has been reading. It means a lot to me. I am loving that you all are enjoying the first chapter and give you the second one now. R&R

Melody smiled as she walked towards the man behind the desk. She did a quick study and thought of the best way to get what she wanted. She had learned the art of lying and control from a ghost when she was younger. He was a former doctor that played a bit too much with the nurses. The sight of what one of nurses did to him always made Melody want to throw up, but he was a good man to her. He taught her how to lie the right way and the tricks to fool people into thinking she was sane.

"Hello." Melody smiled brighter as she stood before the desk.

"What do you what?" The man asked without looking up.

"Well, I know this is silly, but does there happen to be an older church near town. I only ask because the one in town seems too new to be the original church and it's very far from the graveyard."

"Yes, it isn't the original church." The man, in his mid-thirties, looked up from his work. He eyed Melody and she understood what his look was saying. He didn't like her state of dress and was about to write her off.

"Could you tell me where the original one is?" Melody rushed out. "I would love to add its photo to my booklet." Melody pulled out her phone and pulled up her pictures. "See. My mother and I move around a lot and when I move to a new town, I take a photo of their church. I find that while most towns seem alike the churches always have something different." The man took the girls phone and looked over at the images.

"This church," He pointed one at. "Is that the one in-"

"In Sir Benfield?" Melody asked. She nodded her head with a big smile. "Yes, it is. I love that church. It has a beautiful tower that overlooks their lake."

"Yes, I know I lived there." The man stated with a smile. He handed her phone back to her and smiled at her. "Is that the only photo you have of the town?"

"I have a few more." Melody stated as she looked over her photos. "I would need to check my computer."

"Understandable." The man said with a nod. "Now about your church."

"Yes?" The teenager seemed more than happy to listen.

"I have a basic idea of where it is." The man said as he took out a piece of paper. "I can draw you general map to it. I doubt that anyone in town would even know that there was another church."

"Shame. Those old churches are breathtaking." Melody sighed out.

"Aren't they?" The man smiled as he drew her the map. "Please, if you find any photos-"

"I will be sure to show them to you." Melody promised as she took the map. "Thank you."


"Hey, Grandma." Norman greeted as he entered his home. He threw his bag onto the floor and walked to the fridge. His parents were busy working or doing church work. Norman looked about the kitchen to see if his sister had left a note. She had yet to move out and was going to college part time. Norman had no idea what she did in between her classes and the time she slept, but she rarely stayed home.

"Hello dear." His grandma greeted him. "How was your day?"

"It was good." Norman said as he opened a can of soda. "There's a new girl in town."

"Is she pretty?" The old woman asked.

"Yea, but she's a bit rude." Norman answered.

"Rude. What did she do?" His grandma asked.

"It's the why she talks more than what she said." Norman paused to think over what he knew of the girl. "But I guess she never had a lot of social interactions."


"She's been to a number of mental institutions." The teen male went on. "It's not a rumor either. She even said that she spent time there."

"Aw, did she say what for?"

"She said...while implied that it was because she talked to ghosts." Norman stated.

"Can she?" Grandma asked in shock.

"She never said yes or no. She just said that I would have to find out."

"Hmmm, what's her name?" Grandma floated towards the living room door.

"Melody Pine." Norman stated and watched as his grandmother turned to look at him.

"Is she the child of that true crime writer?

"I have no idea. Why do you ask?" Norman didn't understand.

"Because... he stopped by this town once. He was a good man... heard he past on. Wonder if he kept around for his daughter."

"I didn't see any ghost around her that could be her father."

"Did you talk with him?" Norman asked.

"Only for a little." His grandmother replied. "He asked me strange things...about our witch's curse. He seemed unhappy with the answers."

"What did he ask?" Norman tried to recall the story that he has been told as a child. It was mostly full of lies and half truths. He could understand why the man would be unhappy. It must have been upsetting for a true crime writer to be unable to find facts or truth.

"He asked her age and if there was a man in the story. What were her crimes and so on. He seemed to be looking for the town were some story he heard came from."

"And it wasn't this town?" Norman wondered what the man had been looking for.

"No, he seemed to think it was another town. He past a way soon after."

"Did he say what he was looking for?"

"No, I don't believe he did."


Melody sat during lunch looking over a small map. She hid it in her textbook and glanced up every few moments to see if anyone was looking at her. She was overly worried about other students coming to talk to her. So far none of her classmates went to talk to her. It would seem that her sharp words, when the teacher had asked her to speak, made it clear that she wanted no one to bother her.

"My name is Melody Pine and I don't care about any of you. Don't talk to me or touch me. If you do, I'll break your arm...or worse." The teacher had been shocked by the way she had said those words. Melody was sent to the office and chewed out for being honest. Melody had replied that it was important that everyone understood that she wanted to be left alone. She stated that she was scared that if she got sick again that she would hurt people. She didn't want that to happen and started to form tears. She was let off with a warning and Melody hid the smirk from playing them for fools.

Melody studied the map in front of her and the drawing that half covered it. She needed to be sure of were she was going before she left exploring for something. Melody wondered for a brief moment if her father searching for information like she did. Melody placed a hand on her locket, the last thing her father gave her, and wondered what case he had last worked on. Hope had burned all his notes. It took all Melody had to keep her mother from taking her necklace.

"Hello there." A fat teen yelled as he sat across from her. Melody flipped her back shut and glared.

"Who said that you could sit there?" Melody snared out. She slid her back closer towards her and stuffed it into her backpack. It was a small bag with skulls covering it. Melody had found it in a thrift shop. Her mother disapproved of the bag, but let her daughter dress and keep what she liked. Hope had, after all, done more harm than good for her child.

"I thought that you could use a friend being new and all."

"I don't need friends." Melody stated as she turned to get up. She found herself blocked by Norman who was staring at her as though in deep thought. "What are you looking at?"

"Is your father that true crime writer?" Norman asked. The question had shocked the teen goth. No one had ever found out about her father and what he did.

"He did. But he doesn't anymore." Melody stated as Norman placed his tray of food next to her. He moved to sit next to her and Melody forced herself to turn to face the fat one. She didn't want to make a scene and be sent to the office again. It would look bad on her part and make everyone question her actions this morning. It was best to stay at her table.

"Because he died when you were little." Norman stated as he stared at his food.

"So, you googled my name." Melody huffed out. "Doesn't mean that you can talk to the dead."

"My grandmother said that he came to this town." Norman stated.

"Oh, and this is why you and the fat one cornered me, to talk about my dead father?"

"I'm not that fat." Neil stated with a frown.

"Sorry." Melody didn't sound sorry. "I don't know you name, just the ghost whisperer"

"His name is Neil." Norman stated. "And he doesn't like being teased about his weight."

"Hm," Melody glared at Norman. "And I don't like talking about my father or his work."

"I just thought it would be a good talking point." Norman stated as Neil watched the two and ate slowly.

"You thought telling me that my dead father came to this town was a good talking point?" Melody questioned with a mocking chuckle. "And to think that I'm the crazy one at this table." She sighed out as she looked at the clock.

"I guess I didn't think." Norman stated as he thought the matter over.

"No, I guess not." Melody stated as she stood up. "I have better things to do than talk about my father and his work."

"Why would he ask about witches?" Norman asked before the girl could leave the table.

"What?" Melody wasn't sure she heard right. Her mother said often that her father never dealt with the supernatural. He hated to even bring them up in fact based murders, or so Melody had been told.

"I asked-"

"I know what you asked." Melody stated as she hugged her bag. "I have no idea why my father would ask about witches. He dealt with murders. Maybe he wanted to write about historical ones for a change." Melody felt that wasn't the answer, but she didn't know any other one. She didn't really know her father.

"Maybe..." Norman replied as he let Melody leave.

"What was that about witches?" Neil asked. It made Norman recall that he hadn't been alone at the table with Melody.

"Grandma said that he came by asking about witches." Norman stated. "I thought that maybe it was important." Norman thought about the look Melody had on her face, when he brought up her father. She looked hurt and scared. He couldn't help but feel as though there were many times she had felt that way. He thought about how pretty she had looked when she was sitting alone and lost in her book. She looked like an angel. Norman felt sorry for ruining that moment for her. He had thought he was doing a good thing, but now...

"Do you still think that?"Neil asked.

"Uh?" Norman was confused. Could his friend read minds?

"About bring up her father?" Neil stated as he stole a biscuit.

"I'm not sure." Norman said as he started eating.

"She seemed shocked though." Neil said as he recalled the girls behavior.

"I would be too if someone just starting talk about my father like they knew him when they couldn't"

"No, I mean when you brought up the witch thing." Neil stated before drinking some milk.

"What?" Norman hadn't thought Melody was reacting to that.

"It just seemed to bother her when you said that." Norman couldn't think of anything to say back. His mind was racing.


Melody walked down the hall. She could feel eyes staring her down. It was clear, at the end of her first day, that no one was going to like her. She smiled at the thought. Good. It was for the best that they left her alone. If Mother Ghost was right, Melody was going to die soonish and painfully. Melody walked past a few boys that all smirked her way. She didn't bother to look at them. They were a waste of space.

She skipped down the stairs outside the building and started her way home. School would be a livable event. It was just as she imagined, boring. Sadly, Melody had enjoyed being in a classroom full of normal children and not having to worry that one of them would attack her. It was nice to feel safe.

Melody walked with sure steps past a number of ghosts. She didn't greet them and acted as though none of them were there. She noticed that Norman was behind her and waving to the ghosts. She wondered if he was them or was acting as though he could. It was hard to tell sometimes.

Melody took a sharp turn and waited for Norman to turn. When he did, she pushed him up against the wall and glared at him. He seemed shocked, scared and slightly amused. He threw her a weak smile.

"I'm letting you go with a warning because I'm not sure if this is your way home." Melody hissed out before letting him go. She started walking and rolled her eyes when the boy walked beside her.

"Do you have to be like that?" He asked as he looked her over.

"Yes." Melody stated.

"I used to think that I was better off alone." Norman recalled his childhood. "But I was wrong."

Melody paused for a moment to think this news over. He thought he understood her. She had to tell him that he was wrong.

"They attack me." Melody whispered. "They attack me. Do they attack you?"

"No..." Norman was shocked to hear that. He had never met any that would harm people.

"Can you imagine what that's like? To be attacked by something no one but you can see?" Melody asked as she tried to stay strong. "No one believing that your being attacked? I don't think you can. If you did, you wouldn't be so willing to befriend others. It just hurts to." Melody whispered.

"I'm sorry." Norman said as he reached for her.

"Don't you get sick of saying that to me?" Melody questioned before turning to leave.


Norman tossed and turned in his sleep. He has troubled by a nightmare. He woke up covered in sweat and full of fear. He was worried for himself, but for her, the woman in his dream. She had been screaming for mercy, begging to die quickly. He paled at as he recalled her being burned alive while people cheered. He couldn't see her face, but he felt she was important.

Norman wondered why he had such a dream. It had seemed so real at the time. He could smell burning flesh and feel the blade in his hand cut into his skin. The young man glanced at his hands to see that they were unmarked. He had this need to help her. He wanted to save her. Why hadn't he done anything? He was frozen with fear in his dream.


Melody felt her hip burn. He birthmark was aching. She didn't understand why it was hurting. It had never bothered her before. It almost felt as though someone was branding her at that very moment. Her thoughts wondered to the story of the Willow Witch. Could the story be true? Melody lifted her her shirt to see her birthmark. It seemed to be reacting to something. She sighed as she dropped her shirt and turned back to her book.

Her fingers grazed the words on the page. It was an old journal. The pages were brown and slipping out. Mother Ghost had shown her were to find it. Melody had been shocked to find the journal inside the wall in the basement of the asylum. She had to hold back a scream when bones fell on her. The stuff had been even more shocked by the site than her. It seemed that the body had been there for over two hundred years. No one really questioned her hard as to why she had gone down there. It was clear to everyone that the body had nothing to do with her. Melody gained the book a few days before she had to leave so she didn't have to hid the book for very long.

Melody smiled softly as she looked over the words. In a place called Blithe Hollow, he was born and raised. It was in this town that he watched her die in flames so high they touched the heavens. How brave she must have been to keep herself from harming them. Or was it kindness that kept them safe from her wrath? I dream her often enough to know her story, but I only see myself and know myself. But I only see her death, never her life. She only lets me see her death. Why does she saw me these images? Why curse me with her? Or have cursed myself and forgotten it?

Melody glanced out her window in thought. The journal had been written by a man who said he had visions in his sleep. He had stated that around her age he had started having strange dreams about a burning woman and that she story slowly came to him. It was clear to the goth girl that the man did not have the willow tree birthmark. He spoke about the woman being branded with the mark, but said nothing more on the subject. If he had had the mark, he would have stated so.

The girl flipped the journal to another part. She was reading about the church from his dreams and taking notes about the layout. It was important to know what it would look like. If the church she went to didn't match, than this was all fake and she didn't have to worry about the story or dying. It would all be a sick joke that some ghost made up.