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    Kirby's Dilemma
    Kirby's Dilemma
    Kirby's Dilemma
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    Kirby's Dilemma

    By Iris Iglarsh

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Kirby's Dilemma is a heart-warming story about a friendship between a ghost named Kirby Scott and an eleven-year-old boy named Michael Benton. When Michael moves to a vintage home near Chicago, he meets Kirby, who died in that house 70 years earlier when he was eleven. Michael gets along with Kirby better than with his own brother, who is a bully. Their friendship allows Michael to learn about Kirby's dilemma and his family's secrets. With the support of Michael's classmate, Vickie Vargas (who recently lost her father), and Kirby's uncle, George Williams, Michael takes on the biggest challenge of his life to help Kirby get unstuck. By helping Kirby, he's also helping himself. Featured Holidays: Halloween, Day of the Dead and Thanksgiving.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateOct 31, 2021
    ISBN9781667802855
    Kirby's Dilemma

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      Book preview

      Kirby's Dilemma - Iris Iglarsh

      cover.jpg

      For Charlotte and Edward Iglarsh,

      who understood the greatest wisdom—kindness

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author.

      This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      Available through all major booksellers.

      Print ISBN: 978-1-66780-284-8

      eBook ISBN: 978-1-66780-285-5

      First Edition

      Contents

      Part 1: HAUNTED

      Part 2: HOMEWORK

      Part 3: HOLIDAY

      Part 4: HALLOWEEN

      Part 5: HELP

      Part 6: HOPE

      Part 7: HISTORY

      Part 8: HOCKEY

      Part 9: HOME

      Part 1: HAUNTED

      A watery vision

      I almost drowned when I was five years old. My family and I were on vacation in Ocean City, Maryland, with our cousins who lived nearby. I was walking along the shoreline of the Atlantic Ocean by myself, watching a few small waves trickle in, when a huge wave suddenly appeared and swept me into water above my head. I didn’t know how to swim, and I was terrified.

      As I drifted under the water, my brief life passed before my wide-open eyes. I waved my arms and kicked my legs wildly. That’s when I saw a watery vision of a woman in a white gown. As she floated closer to me, even though we were underwater, I clearly heard her whisper to me, Michael, don’t be afraid, just believe in yourself.

      A few seconds later, I heard a man’s voice. He was yelling at me, but I couldn’t understand him. The water was about three feet over my head, when the man swam toward me and pulled me back to the beach. There, he made sure that I was breathing, and then he walked away without saying a word.

      Although I was petrified by the experience of almost drowning and seeing a ghost, I never told my parents. They had warned me not to wander too far away from them on the beach. If they ever knew what happened, I figured they’d probably watch me like hawks for the rest of my life.

      As far as the lady in white who could speak underwater, I tried to convince myself that I had imagined her. Part of me, however, never let go of the possibility that she might have been real. And how did she know my name?

      Six years later

      On a chilly October evening, my parents, my brother, and I moved into our new house on Oakland Avenue in Long Field, Illinois. This happened a few days before I met Kirby. Our new home was a wood-framed, two-story house painted white that had been vacant for several months and was cold and drafty. After the movers left, my dad turned up the heat on the thermostat in the living room. As I watched, I saw a face reflected on the plastic cover of the thermostat. Dad didn’t react to the reflection, so I assumed he didn’t see it.

      I wondered if I should mention the reflection, when it vanished. My family probably would have thought I was imagining things anyway. I also knew that Bryan would tease me mercilessly for saying something weird. At that time, my older brother always thought everything I said was weird.

      That’s weird! my dad said, still standing near the thermostat. Do you hear that strange noise?

      Besides the wind howling outside and a few creaks in the hardwood floor, we all heard a distinct, repetitive squeaking noise. Eee-awe, eee-awe, eee-awe…

      It sounded like a rusty spring doing an imitation of a braying donkey. When it stopped, everyone decided that the noise was coming from the heating vents, but I wasn’t convinced.

      Oh boy, my dad said. That’s why I didn’t want to buy an old house. My parents warned me there would always be something that needed fixing.

      "But we fell in love with its charm. Right?" Mom straightened out the antique lace curtains in the living room. She had convinced Dad to buy an older house, even though his parents and her parents had warned them it would need a lot of work.

      Right, my dad said, rolling his eyes. Let’s all hit the sack and start unpacking tomorrow.

      Looking forward to spending my first night in my new bedroom, I ran upstairs and got ready for bed in record time before my mom came to say goodnight.

      As usual, she asked, Did you brush your teeth?

      Yep, I said, as she turned out the light.

      Wow, Michael! That’s gotta be a record for the fastest time you ever brushed your teeth before going to bed. I’m amazed. You really must like it here. Don’t you?

      It’s nice having my own bedroom, I said. Goodnight.

      G’night, Mom said and kissed me on the forehead.

      A rude awakening

      On Sunday, the second day in our new house, I woke up in unfamiliar surroundings and sat up like a shot. I wondered where I was and why my brother, Bryan, was missing.

      When the sleepiness wore off, I happily realized that I was in the new house, alone in my own room. Best of all, there was no Bryan to whack me with a pillow, as he liked to do almost every morning.

      At that moment, Bryan, who was much larger and more muscular than me, ran in and yelled, Hello, stranger! as he started whacking me with a pillow he had brought in from his room.

      Stop it! Stop it! Get away from me! Get out of my room!

      Okay, stranger. And I do mean ‘strange.’ See you later, he said and left my room.

      After the early-morning abuse from Bryan, I crawled back into bed, put the covers over my head, and thought: That’s just my luck. I have my own room, but Bryan is still attacking me. I’m going to have to start locking my door.

      Under my quilt, which had illustrations of baseballs, basketballs, footballs, and soccer balls all over it, I heard the strange squeaking sound again, Eee-awe, eee-awe. Only this time, I could hear it from the vent in my bedroom—not the living room. After the squeak, I heard a voice not much louder than a whisper say, "Get out of my room."

      With that, I flew out of bed and down the stairs, almost slamming into the kitchen table.

      Hey, kiddo. What’s going on? You look like you just saw a ghost, Dad said with a smile. He was already dressed and making coffee.

      No… um… I just need something to eat. Can I have some cereal? I wasn’t ready to tell anybody about what I had just heard.

      While eating, I began to put the pieces together—the face in the thermostat, the weird squeaky noise, and the voice in my bedroom. I’d seen my first ghost when I was five, and now I could only come to one conclusion: This house is haunted!

      Face-to-face encounter

      The next

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