Flavia
Catherine Ding, Group 3: Fiction, Chinese International School
lavia traced her fingers along the wall. She felt a rush of adrenaline and a gold spark bounced off her
fingertips, dancing among the slits of stone. It was such an amazing sensation of energy and paranormal
fire that Flavia jumped back in surprise.
“
We have been expecting you...” a voice broke in. It was cracked and quavering and had an eery feel
about it altogether.
F
“
Uh-Oh...” Flavia whispered. She was tempted to run away, but feared it would corrupt the silence. She
knew ghosts, she could see them. They were all over her hometown in New Jersey. There was Miss Moon, the
neighbor who had glasses with no lenses and the team of teenagers who died in a silly car accident. But these
ones were different...
Suddenly she felt a cold hand on her arm. She twisted backwards and two firm hands pushed her onto the
stone ground. Her head hit the compact floor with a painful crack, like the sound of a skull splitting.
Flavia’s vision was blurry, but when everything moved into place, she could make out two hazy figures standing
in front of her. As she sat up, the figures got clearer and her vision zoomed into focus. On the left stood a sturdy
young man with a long hair braided down his back and besides him a smaller man with a wiry tangled beard, the
sort that could catch on fire.
“
Ouch. What was that for?” Flavia demanded as she brushed the dirt of her shirt. She stood up, her hands
on her hips, a gesture that she hoped would show dominance over the grumpy ghosts. No such luck. The big
ghost with the braid (Flavia had decided to call the two Tramp and Tangle) grabbed her collar and pinned her
against the wall.
“
Are you Flavia? Flavia Winterson? The Imprisoned Protecter of The Great Wall?”
“
Yes, Yes and no,” She replied. His fingers danced on her collarbone and creeped up to her neck, his
knee pressed against her legs to keep her in position. She struggled against his immense strength. She may be
the girl with the rare ability to see dead people, but she was no assassin or trained fighter, and the Tramp’s grip
was strong, despite the fact he looked and felt like thin fragile glass.
“
The little liar! If she is Felicia Winterson, then she is the Imprisoned Protecter of the Great Wall!”
Tangle shrieked.
“
It’s Flavia,” she piped. Tramp immediately released Flavia, scowling obnoxiously. “If this is who God
sent, then so be it,” he grumbled. They paced around the temple, clearly disappointed in His taste. Flavia turned
her gaze towards the everlasting trail of the Great Wall that wound through the mountains like a dragon’s tail
that had sunk too deep into green mud. She thought about the purpose of coming to Beijing and her family and
friends back in New Jersey. She thought about her mother’s meaningful words that she had carried with her
throughout the years, Everyone deserves to be heard. Indeed. Even the Dead had things to say.