TODAY, OUR TEAM MEMBER AND AMAZING AUTHOR, LORRAINE CAREY, IS SHARING WITH US HER SHORT FLASH FICTION STORY 'YOU WERE MEANT TO BE HERE' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat

You Were Meant to be Here

By Lorraine Carey

Adrianna could hardly sleep the night before the field trip. Her second-grade class was finally going to visit Prospect Place mansion, a place cloaked in both history and whispers of haunting legends. For a week now, her teacher, Mrs. Joneson, had told stories of the mansion’s role in the Underground Railroad. But beyond the history, it was the ghost tales—ones of flickering lights, disembodied voices, and a girl who vanished into the fog—that made Adrianna’s imagination swirl.

Unlike the other kids, Adrianna devoured every historical detail with eerie fascination. Her mother often found her awake late, whispering dates and facts to herself as though the past was speaking directly to her.

That morning, the yellow school bus grumbled to a stop at the curb. Mrs. Joneson, clipboard in hand, herding the excited children aboard, reminded them to behave. Mr. Belford, the balding bus driver with eyes that looked like they had seen too much, offered a high-five to each child, though his eyes lingered on Adrianna a second longer than usual.

Each student clutched a paper sack lunch. Adrianna’s held her favorite—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—and a bag of pretzels. Her mother had drawn a smiley face on the bag, but somehow it made Adrianna uneasy today.

Cheers erupted as the bus creaked to a halt in front of the imposing red-brick mansion. Its windows, like hollowed eyes, stared down at them from centuries past. A slender woman with pale skin and dull blonde hair stood at the base of the stone steps.

“Hello, children,” she said in a voice that didn’t quite match her pleasant expression. “I’m Miss Dolby, your guide. Pictures are fine, but no flash. We wouldn’t want to wake anything… I mean, anyone.”

Adrianna voiced her concern, “Who would be sleeping here?”

Mrs. Dolby overheard Adrianna’s question and was quick to reply, “ Oh, we have our groundskeepers and guards that remain on the premises.”

Split into three groups, each child clung nervously to their buddy. Adrianna was thrilled to be paired with her best friend, Tanya. They squealed with excitement but fell silent as they entered the house, the wooden floor creaking beneath their sneakers.

Inside, the mansion seemed to breathe.

Each room revealed remnants of a time long gone—candles melted into rusted holders, dusty portraits whose eyes seemed to follow them, and in the basement, a hidden nook where enslaved families once waited for a lantern's glow in the dead of night.

Adrianna could almost hear the desperate breaths in the silence, feel the trembling fear etched into the walls.

By the time they returned to the bus, the air felt heavier, as if something had hitched a ride from the house.

They were bound for the Muskingum Recreational Trail for lunch and a short hike. But as they drove, the sky began to dim unnaturally. A dense fog, bone-white and unnerving, crept in from the trees, wrapping the bus like a web.

Mr. Belford slowed the vehicle, his voice now lower and grim. “Buckle up, children. This fog isn’t natural.”

The world outside the windows vanished into a wall of gray. The air in the bus turned cold. With no visibility and no reception, Mr. Belford pulled onto a dirt road barely visible from the highway.

Mrs. Joneson tried to sound calm, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her. “Let’s get off and stretch our legs for a bit.”

The children hesitated, some openly afraid. The fog rolled over them like an icy breath, and the towering trees looked more like skeletal figures now than nature.

The groups clustered, but the mist swallowed sound. Adrianna felt the goosebumps rise on her arms and wished for the sweater her mother insisted she pack—and she had forgotten.

When Adrianna whispered to Tanya that she needed to use the bathroom, Tanya reluctantly agreed to come. The two girls ventured just past a bend where the bushes seemed inviting enough for privacy. Adrianna ducked down, unease creeping into her chest.

Then she heard it—a soft crying. Distant, echoing. It didn’t sound like a bird. It didn’t even sound human.

Adrianna finished quickly, heart racing, and stood up, looking around. “Tanya?” she called. Nothing. She turned a full circle. “Tanya!”

The fog was a thick veil now. The trail back was gone. It was as if the forest had closed in behind her.

And then—footsteps.

A shadow emerged from the mist. A young girl, about Adrianna’s age, stepped into view. She wore a tattered white nightgown, mud-streaked and worn thin. Her braids were long and matted. Her eyes were dark, deep, too deep.

Adrianna backed away. “Who are you?”

The girl didn’t speak. She simply came closer, until she was only a few feet away.

“Are you lost?” Adrianna asked.

“I’ve been lost… a long time,” the girl finally replied, her voice no louder than a whisper in the wind. “I lost the light. I lost my mama.”

Adrianna swallowed hard. “What’s your name?”

“Anna. Anna Johannsen.”

Adrianna’s breath caught in her throat. That name… it sounded like one Mrs. Joneson had read from the roster of slaves who had once passed through Prospect Place.

But that was impossible.

“You’re from… back then?”

Anna nodded slowly, her eyes glimmering with something old. “I couldn’t find the lantern. I couldn’t follow the guide.”

Adrianna’s mind reeled. “That was more than one hundred and sixty years ago! You can’t still be here!”

“I never left,” Anna said simply. “And now, neither can you.”

Before Adrianna could run, Anna seized her wrist. The strength in her tiny hand was inhuman. Adrianna screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the fog.

“You will take my place now,” Anna said, her voice suddenly deeper, distorted. “You will guard the path. You were always meant to.”

“No!” Adrianna cried. “You tricked me!”

Anna only smiled and ran into the mist, her form vanishing like smoke.

Adrianna tried to follow, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was rooted to the forest floor. The fog curled around her like chains. She heard voices now—whispers in old dialects, weeping, prayers… and footsteps. Endless footsteps.

As Anna’s final words echoed through her mind, Adrianna knew the truth.

She hadn’t come to Prospect Place by chance.

She had been called.

And she would remain.

Forever.

The End.

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COMING SOON: On Wednesday, 30th July, our fabulous guest author, Linda S. Prather, is sharing Chapter One of her novel, 'Honorable Death'.