Ghost Block

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The night was cool and clear.
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The night was cool and clear, as the stars gleamed down from the heavens upon the peaceful apartment complex. Each building seemed to be its own "being" with its lined windows with the white trims. Most were dark this time of night only a few scattered lights on here and there making the buildings seem like patchwork quilts.

As peaceful as this place had seemed, such was not the case. The four blocks that made the complex were the home of Drugs, violence, and sometimes death. Each side of the complex had its own "name" The first two blocks coming from the avenue were known as "The Strip." Any drug you could think of was sold from the cross avenue down the street the split those two blocks.

Her home was across the street from there. On what was known as "The Ghost Block." Across from her bedroom window stood the powerhouse, the source of life to the complex and where her side of the complex had gotten its name from.

Legend had it that when the complex was built, a worker had been working on the power lines on the tall chimney like tower of the power house, when he plummeted to his death. The worker's death was labeled a mystery. The coroners had found nothing to cause his death. He was not a drinker or a drug addict, so he had not been under the influence at the time of the accident. What struck the police officers as strange was that the coroners had said it seemed as if he was pushed off the tower, yet at the time of the accident no one had been in the building at all, save for the worker.

The case was closed, being called "unsolved" and people went on with their lives. The legend of the tower lived on for decades as more people stated they saw something on the tower late at night. The girl whose room overlooked the power house had heard this story long ago, in a time when she stayed up late at night frightened because of the tree beside her old building scratching her window. Her old building was next door to the power house.

As the years went by and she grew older, the legend began to die down. The girl was now in her early twenties, and though most had forgotten about the legend, she had not. Night after night the legend plagued her, and night after night she would look out of her window up to the tower to see if she would see anything.

One night she did. A faint blue-white glow coming from the very top of the power house tower. She squinted her eyes and canted her head as she looked up through her barred windowed wondering if her eyes were merely playing tricks on her. She shook her head. It was just a figment of her imagination. Her mother had always told her imagination would be her death one day.

The following night she again looked out the window up to the power house tower, and again she saw the same pale blue-white glow. She pursed her lips thinking this time she would go investigate for herself.

She left her building and quickly went across the street to the power house. She took a hair pin from her hair as she approached the power house door. She took a deep breath as her gaze traveled up and down the strong, red painted, metal door. She worked quickly, her finger tips holding onto the hair pin as she placed it in the locking mechanism of the door knob. After a few minutes of gentle jingles, the door slowly swung open.

She scrunched up her little button nose as the stench of mildew and dirt filled her nostrils. She waited a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the main room before she looked around.

Generators lined the walls, The ones for the lighting along wall facing the door, and the ones for heat and hot water were lined against the other two walls. She spotted a staircase and slowly started to walk up trying not to make a sound.

The stairway led her to the roof. The hinges of the old iron hatch creaked she pressed her weight upon it. She peeked her head through the hatch and gulped lightly as she now stood face to face with the ominous tower.

Shaky hands took hold of the tower's metal rungs as she slowly ascended the tall ladder that would take her to the top of the tower. Sweat began to bead upon her brow as she neared the top. She let out a skittish giggle feeling foolish. The boys at work will have a field day tomorrow when they find out how frightened she had been of a childhood ghost story, she thought to herself as she had finally reached the top.

Much to her surprise, there was nothing up there, no dull glow, no ghosts, no nothing. She quirked a brow, a bit disappointed wondering what all the fuss had been about this old tower. She shrugged her shoulders with a sigh and turned to look over the tower's edge. She crossed her arms leaning them on the black metal fencing.

Her mind had drifted back to the worker that had fallen to his death. She contemplated how he could have just fallen off the tower when there was a fence, and after all years it was still as strong, not one place bent or missing.

Lost in her thoughts she didn't see the glow appear behind her or feel the hands placed on her back. The next thing she remembered was seeing her life flash before her eyes and the rush of wind blowing past her . . . Then all went dark.

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