The Ghost Belonged to Me

The Ghost Belonged to Me

Richard Peck

Language: English

Pages: 176

ISBN: 0140386718

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Only Alexander knows why the barn is haunted—-and by what
When Alexander notices an eerie light coming out of the barn,. He thinks his friend Blossom Culp is trying to spook him. But strange things really are happening there. Slimy footprints appear out of nowhere, and whimpering sounds float down from the hayloft. And when he ventures into the barn in the dark of night, his breath catches in his throat. Suddenly Blossom's words come back to him: "You can make contact with the Unseen...." Now there's a girl ghost standing right in front of him, telling him of great danger ahead. But is there time for Alexander to act on her warning? 

Blossom Culp #1
“Peck’s blending of mystery and humor makes an unusual and entertaining ghost story.” —Booklist, starred review

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before echoed down that hallway like a bell pealing. ”Turn me over, Cleatus!’ it said. I can hear it yet. ‘IN GOD’S NAME, TURN ME OVER!’ “Cleatus come pounding down the hall, half wild. But I stepped out and told him I’d heard it too, which was some relief to him. Why, that voice raised everybody in the place. There was a head poked out of every door and witnesses a-plenty. “ ‘But what can he mean?’ Cleatus says to me, grabbing hold of my arm like a child. ‘What does TURN ME OVER signify?’ “I

was the engine purring along, which must have meant he was driving on the grass to avoid the gravel. I was reminded then that I never had heard Lucille come upstairs. She is going to make it up with him pretty quick, is what I thought to myself, before he has time to realize what fools he has made of them both. So, bye and bye, quite a while after I heard the car stop, I slipped out of my room and up to the spare bedroom right over the piazza. I like to listen in to other people’s business,

voice, though so quiet it could have come from inside my head. “My hoops!” this girl said, clutching at her sopping skirts. I looked right at her face. It was heartshaped and very woebegone. She put a hand up to her neck where there was a brooch of the old-fashioned kind. It looked to have a glass covering over flowers made of human hair, which was a decoration done in days gone by. “My hoops, my hoops,” she said looking through me. “I am lost. All is lost,” she went on, and in an accent I could

Inez Dumaine. They all looked to be late workers or people who’d been to a show at the Empress Opera House. “That is the Armsworth boy,” somebody said, like I was a point of interest they were passing. “Off, boy, before I drag you up to your house by the ears,” said the motorman, a tough customer with big knuckles. I got a good grip on the pole by the coin box. “Listen, there’s something wrong on the trestle—over Snake Creek.” This brought a few of the passengers to their feet. The motorman

steamboat.’ “He was silent for a minute and then said, ‘Well, it is not to be wondered at, for I have spent my life over on the Mississippi River at the wheel of various boats.’ He didn’t call the boats by name, and I didn’t ask. Then he said, ‘I would take it as a favor if these particulars of my life are not known in these parts.’ I told him no one would hear anything from me, and have not broke my word till now. “This fellow who called hisself Captain Campbell and I struck up a friendship,

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