Something I Might Write If I Get Help

This is an Excerpt from a story I want to write. It's about a young woman named Wendy going around the world with her brother to free spirits under the orders of a mysterious master.

    They found his diary under his bed. At first, Wendy thought this was strange, the house had been there for over a hundred years and no one thought of looking under the bed for Peter’s diary? But then, Wendy realised what was happening. The spirits had told Wendy to come here. They had told her that she was going to be the one to free them all. They told her that this was her destiny. Of course the diary would be in such an easy spot, this was Wendy's first test, they couldn’t give her the da Vinci Code on her first go! Wendy broke into a grin and called to her brother.

    “Mark! Mark get over here I found it!” Heavy footsteps sped towards the young ward’s room. Mark peeked into the room for quick clarification, before smiling almost as widely as Wendy was. Never on Earth had there been such cheery ghost hunters.

    Mark strode toward Wendy on long legs, beaming. He crouched next to his baby sister and pushed some stray red frizz out of his face and back against her head, where it belonged.

    “Oh s**t, Wendy look! It’s right here!” Wendy snorted at her brother.

    “No s**t Dick Tracy, I know, it’s sorta in my hands right now.” Wendy’s bubbly green eyes met her brother’s fed up ones, they held the gaze for a minute before Mark cracked a smile.

    “I win, you smiled, you have to buy the ice cream next time!” Mark groaned and looked back to the diary. It’s leather was worn and, what used to be dark brown, was now a pale tan. Mark could clearly see the yellowing pages, he frowned.

    “Not what? I mean, we found it, what do we do with it?” Wendy frowned, the spirits had left that part out when they told her to get it. A shadow caught the young woman's eye. It was small, low to the ground, and indistinct. When Wendy looked right at it, it vanished. She smiled proudly.

“Now, we give it to Peter.” Wendy stood up and marched to the door, leaving a confused Mark behind her. Wendy walked to the center of the hall way and held up the diary.

    “Peter!” She called into the darkness, trying to call the poor buy out. Wendy had always liked Peter’s story when she was younger, it was just her level of messed up, but now she knows it’s real, now she knows that Peter really was beaten daily, he really was locked in his room for years on end, and his father really did drown him at the tender age of nine. Now, Peter is stuck here, terrified of the people who come to his house for tours, never understanding that he’s dead. Maybe getting his diary back will set him free. The hallway was silent. Wendy tried again.

    “Peter! Come on little guy, it’s okay! I wanna give you something!” Still nothing. Wendy considered calling Mark out, he was being oddly quiet in the room, he was was a lot better with kids than Wendy was. A noise like someone hitting the ground after a long fall startled Wendy, she turned around in shock and saw someone rising up, like he was straightening himself. He was about seven feet tall and hot, like, really hot. His hair was black, like a raven, and he was so pale Wendy felt that she should have been able to see his veins. He spoke in a familiar voice.

    “Wanona, you have succeeded, which is good, if you failed I would have gladly killed you, if natural selection didn’t get to you first.” Wendy was shocked. Nobody called her Wanona except for her grandma! Wendy’s eyes flicked to Peter’s old bedroom, she could see Mark frozen inside. He looked really confused and like he was about to say something. Wendy’s heart crawled into her throat.

    “What did you do to Mark.” She demanded in a steady voice. The man in front of her didn’t even look at him.

    “Nothing, Wanona, your brother is fine, this is just a vision, it only seems like he’s frozen.” Wendy was dying, his voice was so familiar, a deep baritone that nearly put her to sleep. Wait, sleep!

    “You’re the spirit that’s been visiting me! You’re the one who told me to come here!” The man, spirit, deflated.

    “You’ve only now made the connection? Really if my master didn’t want you alive, you wouldn’t be.” Wendy scoffed, if she was a sensible person, she’d be terrified. Thank God “sensible” wasn’t in her dictionary.

    “Oh chill Pretty Boy, what do you want?” Pretty Boy huffed.

    “Don’t call me that.”

    “Too late, now talk!” Wendy whined. Pretty boy raised a sleek eyebrow, damn, even his eyebrows were hot.

    “You have found the diary, as you were ordered, and it is now your job to go to Switzerland and see to some spirits there. My master has asked me to express his pride in your accomplishment.” They stood in silence. Wendy looked around. Pretty Boy was silent.

    “Anything else?” Wendy asked, feeling confused and a bit put off by the silence. Pretty Boy thought for a moment.

    “No.” More silence. Wendy shifted.

    “What about Peter?” Wendy asked, suddenly remembering the poor boy. Pretty Boy looked around. His eyes landed on a dark corner.

    “There he is. Peter, here.” Pretty Boy held out his hand and darkness shot to it, it morphed until it was the dark form of a child. He was soaking wet and had dark bags under his eyes, Peter pressed against Pretty Boy like he was afraid of Wendy. Wendy’s heart shook, such a small boy, and he was dead. Wendy hated her younger self for finding enjoyment in his story. She crouched down to speak to him, offer him his diary, but a look of horror flashed on his face before he vanished. Wendy blinked.

    “Don’t bother trying again, you’re lucky he agreed to approach the first time.” Wendy stared up at Pretty Boy.

    “Why?” Pretty Boy raised an eyebrow.

   

    “Why? Read the book.” Wendy was stunned, she opened the book to a random page and began to read.

    “Mama was angry again today, I don’t know what I did, but she tells me it was bad, like last time. I had to spend an hour in the box, it was very dark, but Papa let me out. He saved me some mashed potatoes from dinner and told me the story of his great-great-great-great-granddad and how he sailed here from Canada all by himself. I like those stories. Papa says it’s bedtime now, goodnight diary! I’ll write tomorrow, promise!”

    Wendy slumped, it was Peter’s mother who beat him. Not his dad, and now, his spirit stays in this house, just trying to protect his son. That must be why he didn’t attack Mark earlier in the kitchen, he knew they were there to help. Maybe.

    “Wendy!” The sound jolted Wendy from her thoughts. She jumped and looked up to see Mark standing in front of her, Pretty Boy was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Peter.

    “Wendy, what are you doing? You’ve been standing there for a full minute, when did you even get here!” Wendy looked around, she was in the foyer, Wendy shook her head.

    “I’ll tell you later, right now we need to go home, get some rest, and just generally not for a good solid hour. Okay?” Mark looked at her, his red hair barely visible in the dark.

    “Fine, we’ll talk tomorrow. Come on.”

Author's Note

So this is just a random idea that I had and I'd like for it to get some traction, but I've never written anything longer than a short story before and I'd love for it to maybe be a thing? I guess I'm just hoping for some feedback and ideas on where to take this, anything's helpful!!