“That’s the last of them.” Dylan wiped sweat from his brow as he fell into a chair.
The new Music Room overflowed with boxes, just like the rest of the historic building that would hold the fifty-two students from the extraordinarily small Dunbath Private School. His sixth-grade class had volunteered to help with the move.
“I heard this place was a plantation back during the Civil War,” Maggie said, popping open one of the boxes to peer inside.
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. Some rich guy owned it, had slaves and everything. Until slavery was abolished, anyway.”
“One little slave girl never left.” Maggie bit her lip to keep her smile hidden.
“Huh? What d’ya mean?” Dylan squinted his eyes and straightened up.
“Oh, just a rumor that she drowned in the pond out back. I heard her ghost tried to communicate with the family here.”
Dylan frowned. “Stop it, Maggie. You’re just trying to scare me.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” She gave him a wink and turned to leave.
A sound stopped them. Music, electronic and muffled, came from one of the boxes in the corner. Maggie gasped.
“What the…?” Dylan said, as he pushed boxes aside.
They worked together and were finally able to find the right one. Dylan flipped open the lid and peered in. The sound grew louder. Inside, the box was filled with small electronic keyboards meant for young children.
At the very bottom, a keyboard was in the ‘on’ position and played a pre-recorded melody.
Maggie’s eyes grew wide. “Ummm….”
Dylan turned the keyboard off, plunging the room into silence. “I think we know where she is.”
Then the music started to play again.
©Laura L. Zimmerman 2017