Dally - The OHS Ghost
Have you ever seen a ghost at OHS, roaming the halls happily? No? Well, I have, her name is Dally. I will tell you the story of how I met Dally. One cool October day, I was dared by some friends to go into the abandoned modular outside of OHS. Of course, my friend, Samantha, automatically volunteered to go with me, as she was the dare devil of the group. “I’ll go, too!” she yelled cheerfully. Samantha and I slowly walked into the swaying, white modular. As we entered a sweet voice piped up, “Hi, who are you two?” Samantha shrieked, and hid behind me, as I steadily marched deep into the modular, curious of the eerie modular and it’s squeaky voices coming from within. Suddenly a cool breeze slid past me, and a young girl stood above me. Wait, above me! Yes, the girl was floating above me leisurely.
I gawked at the young girl as I mustered up the courage to ask, “H-Hi, w-what’s your name, who are you?” She giggled, her blonde curls bouncing up and down, “ME, I’m Dally, the OHS ghost!” At that instant Samantha might have fainted and dropped to the floor, if the whole modular hadn’t of suddenly turned into a new, neon covered room. Dally was very tan, bright blue eyes, bouncing blonde hair, and was wearing a teal lace dress with perfectly painted nails and toenails. I gawked at her, she was a living image of perfect. Dally saw how confused I was and explained herself, pointing to different places for effect, “ I’m Dally, the OHS ghost, this is my house, that I redid for myself, I’m sixteen years old, and I have a british accent…” She then carried on joyously, “… that about sums me up!” I gawked at her as I looked around her neon ‘house’, she had a large bed in the corner of the room and a miniature, white rug sprawled on the floor in the middle of the room. She also had many pictures of friends and family on the baby blue walls, along with a very immense stereo by the door. There were two doors on the left side of the modular, which apparently led to a tiny kitchen, and a fancy bathroom.
Suddenly Samantha was snooping around in Dally’s belongings, when she found nothing interesting, she plopped onto Dally’s fluffy bed. “Anything else you want to tell us?” Samantha said, egging Dally on. “Nope,” Dally said grimly, glaring at Samantha. “Ook, we can stop glaring at each other… NOW,” I told my two unforgiving friends. The two stopped glaring at each other and peered at me, probably wondering what to do next. “I guess we’ll see you later, Dally!” I said cheerfully, practically running out of the modular, Samantha close behind. “Well, that was ca-re-pyy don’t you think!?” Samantha whispered to me while we steadily walked away from Dally’s home.
The next day Samantha and I were walking through the hallway when we saw Dally, trying to teach a not-so-innocent kid how to waltz. She dropped a small radio on the hallway floor, and turned on a waltz. She scoped the horrified kids, suddenly picking her victim, a large boy, who had pushed a small girl in the hallway earlier. “YOU, are a bully, mister,” she said waving her perfectly polished finger under his nose. He glared at her while she took his hand and forced him into a waltzing position, “NOW, you will dance!”
Dally started to push and pull the bully, Tyson. “Come on, your better than that, get your form up!” Dally mumbled under her breath to Tyson. Now all the kids in the hallway were gathered around Dally and her victim, giggling and laughing hysterically. Suddenly Tyson had had enough, apparently, and shoved away from Dally. “ENOUGH!” the school principal yelled while he stormed towards us. Suddenly all the kids scattered, while Dally disappeared behind the trophy safe, and Tyson sat there, mortified.
“Mister Tyson! What were you doing?!” the principal shrieked into the vacant hallway. “Dally only dances with someone if they were, A) being naughty, or, B) being a bully!” the principal bellowed. While this conversation was going on I was hiding behind the trophy case with Dally, snickering. Suddenly Dally heard how much trouble Tyson was getting into and floated out from behind the trophy case, straight-faced. “Mr. Principal, he WAS being a bully, but you don’t have to, um, yell at him like that,” she stuttered, looking down. The principal also looked down, ashamed, and said, “Thank you, Dally.”
Tyson snapped out of his trance and glared at Dally and the principal, I giggled from behind the trophy case. All three heads snapped my way, as Dally laughed and said, “Oh, that was just me, sorry.” From then on Dally has been my best friend, oh and don’t forget Samantha. She floats to all the same classes as me, dances, sings, and most of all protects the victims of bullies. I love Dally, the victim protecter, outgoing, loving, understanding, pretty, gossipy, and most of all happy, Dally. And sometimes, just sometimes, she tells me the story about how she became a ghost.