By Anna Augustine
The ghosts are out in full force tonight at Chetham Library—the oldest public library in Great Britain. They like to wander up and down the sleek, black stacks, rattling the cabinets that hold their books. The sounds echo around the vaulted ceilings, dark wood reflecting the moonlight and my torch as I run after Shakespeare. Unlike me, they can pass through walls—which is unfortunate when you’re the one charged with keeping the rabble-rousing ghosts in line.
“Oi! Charlette Brontë, stop with the hysterics!” I huff to the crying apparition as I hurry past. Shakespeare is waxing poetic as he follows after Jane Austen, who looks about ready to wallop him upside the head with the leather-bound copy of Hamlet that’s tucked under his arm.
Like every night, I’m waiting for him to appear. He loves being a ghost. It fits right into the fictional world he created, and he loves using his ghoulish form to scare me half to death.
Roald Dahl is rocking in a corner, laughing like the lunatic he was, while Lewis Carroll tries to tell him a convoluted riddle. I give them both a wide berth. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my eight months working in Chetham, it’s to leave the crazy ghosts alone.
You’d think once I discovered that the library was haunted, I would’ve quit. But no, I needed a job. And apparently babysitting dead authors and poets was preferable to the alternative—babysitting my niece and nephew. Might be a touch quieter.
I dodge Lewis and Tolkien in a heated debate about Father Christmas in fantasy. There’s something about this old library—ghosts and all—that I adore. Besides, it’s not every day you’re surrounded by so many people with a passion for literature.
Catching up to Shakespeare, I grab his sleeve, turning him around. “William, buddy, for the love—” I gasp, out of breath.
“To be, or not to be! That is the question.” He presses a hand to his chest and flings the other one out wide.
“No,” I insist. “To leave Austen alone or get bashed with a book, that is the question.”
“It is the East, and Jane is the sun!” He bows low to Jane Austen, who heaves her eyes heavenward.
“I don’t get paid enough for this,” I mutter under my breath.
Jane meets my gaze. “He is such a disagreeable man. It is quite a misfortune to be liked by him.”
Shakespeare splutters, his head snapping up in time to catch Jane’s tiny smirk as she glides away. Shakespeare is on her tail again without hesitation.
“I give up!” It’s the same dance—one I’ll never learn the steps to—with Shakespeare and Austen every night. Sometimes I think they enjoy tormenting one another.
Still, I’m uncomfortable that he isn’t here yet. He’s always here by now, and it has me worried. “Time to find a ghost who’s good at mysteries.”
I march back down the stacks toward the mystery section to find Agatha Christie and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. There’s a teapot and cups between them, and they each hold one of their beloved mysteries in their laps.
“Ah, the fair Eliza is here.” Arthur smiles, his mustache twitching. “And to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Have you finally convinced William to leave Jane alone?” Agatha asks.
“No, and I daresay that’s one mystery not even you two could crack.”
Arthur laughs, the sound echoing around the shelves of books. “I do believe you’re right.”
I smile. “I’m actually here because one of the ghosts hasn’t shown up tonight.”
“Oh?” Agatha’s brows leap up. “Who?”
I lower my voice. “Dickens.”
“Well, that is peculiar!” Arthur slaps his knees. “Should we go have a look then?”
They stand and begin to move down the hall. They don’t appear like ghosts—apart from their out-of-style clothes. No, it’s the way they move. Not quite walking, not quite floating, it’s a hovering glide that startled me the first time I saw it.
We soon reach the books that were published in the mid-1800s. Normally Lord Alfred Tennyson is spouting his lyrical poems in the corner while Emily and Anne Brontë argue over their horrid choices in men. But tonight the hall is eerily silent.
“I don’t like this,” I whisper as we ease close to his collection of books. A Tale of Two Cities, A Christmas Carol, and Oliver Twist are the titles that stick out to me. It’s from one of those three that the ghost of Charles Dickens usually appears. He plucks one book off, tucks it under his arm, and carries on with his night as all the other ghosts do. But not tonight.
“Where is he?” Arthur eyes the books as he leans closer. “Eliza, are any tomes missing?”
“I’m not certain,” I admit. In truth, the only story I know by him is A Christmas Carol, and that’s because I listened to an audiobook. A Tale of Two Cities? I read a summary to pass it in literature class.
“I think there may be a book missing.” Agatha points to a small gap between Martin Chuzzlewit—a book I’d never heard of—and Oliver Twist. “What would fit between these two?”
I shake my head. “I don’t—”
A cold sensation shivers across my neck right as an apparition whisps out of the shelf before me. I scream and clutch my chest. “Sweet mercy, Dickens!”
The man merely laughs, waving The Mystery of Edwin Drood in my face. “Figured you might be game for a mystery tonight!”
“I thought something was wrong!”
Sir Arthur smiles. “We like to keep you on your toes, Eliza!”
“You were in on it?” I huff. “Figures.”
“Besides”—Dickens leans forward—“I never got to finish my mystery in life, so I’m always game for one in my afterlife.”
I laugh at last, smiling at my ghostly friends. “As long as I’m working at Chetham, I’m certain there will be mysteries aplenty.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This is such a fun, clever nod to literature!
This was hilarious 😂! Great to have a Wacky Wednesday on Monday! I never thought about who Shakespeare would chase in the ghost world, but Jane Austen seems a logical choice. Emily Dickinson would probably hide from him or tell him to bugger off.
Haha thank you! It was fun to imagine their personality through what they wrote 😂
It’s a fun read, and it’s good you stayed with British authors or it would get overwhelming. I might have used Charles Dodson instead of Lewis Carrol as that was his real name, but maybe ghosts stick with their ‘nom de plume’.
I love this so much. There are just so many fun literature elements here, and it gets funnier the more you know about the authors.
What a fun nod to our favorite classic authors! I hope to read more of their adventures someday!!
Such a fun and endearing concept. 😍
Oh, this was a delight! And now I have another magical library to add to the list of those I wish were real enough to visit . . .
Loved this!
Clever concept. Loved every word.
… I want to go to the Chetham Library, now…
This was a hoot to read! LOL :)