It was Thursday, June 9, when Rosemary decided she was going to her Aunt Elizabeth's for the summer.
Rosemary was very pretty. She had sparkling blue eyes with long, silky brown hair almost to her waist. She was on the cheerleading squad. Rosemary was 12, a straight-A student in her middle school in Columbus, Minn.
Rosemary had finished packing when she looked over at her dresser and saw her locket. Rosemary loved her locket. It was silver, and when she opened it, it had a picture of her great-great-grandmother. In the picture she was in a bed with her locket on (the locket was once hers), and her face was pale with a sad frown. It wasn't a very delightful picture, but it was the only one Rosemary had of her great-great-grandmother.
When you compared Rosemary with the picture of her great-great-grandmother, they looked a little alike. You really couldn't compare them, though, since Rosemary was always happy and the picture of her great-great-grandmother was sad. She died of pneumonia when she was 19. The picture of her in the locket was taken just two days before she died.
All the time Rosemary's mom would say, "Did you know you were named after her, dear? Her name was Mary Rose, just your name backward."
The next day, when it was time to go to Aunt Elizabeth's, Rosemary picked up her locket, put it on, picked up her bags and made her way down the stairs.
The ride seemed to last hours and hours, but it was only 45 minutes away. Her aunt lived on a small farm just outside of town. She had everything you can imagine. She had horses, cows, pigs, you name it.
Finally, Rosemary's mother stopped the car along the dirt road and pulled out a map. Then she started up again.
"Five more minutes and we're there," her mother said.
Rosemary got out of the car and hugged her aunt.
"How have you been, Rosemary?" her aunt asked.
"Great!" she said. "I will just get my bags and take them to the ... ?" Rosemary asked.
"The guest bedroom up on the right on the second floor," she said.
When Rosemary walked in the room, she noticed the temperature had changed to cold and clammy.
Rosemary put her bags away and went outside to join in the conversation with her mother and aunt.
"Bye, dear," her mother said and gave her a kiss.
Rosemary's summer was great. She had fun with her aunt, but every other night she would wake up at midnight, not knowing what woke her up. She would feel a cold presence and then she would look up and see a figure of a person in her mid-teens. The figure would mouth the words, "Help me," and something else, but Rosemary could never understand her, and then after five minutes, it would vanish.
She thought she was just dreaming, but then it started happening more than once.
Rosemary was not really frightened of the girl, she was just scared from what was happening.
Since the town her aunt lived in was small, Rosemary could walk everywhere. Rosemary went to the town library and got the town newspapers to see if anything matched up with the figure that appeared in her bedroom every other night.
When Rosemary was looking through the newspapers, she noticed something.
"Mary Rose Didion _ dies at age 19 after having one child _ dies from pneumonia _ dies without peace _ last thing she said was: "I need my locket.' She was buried at Northland Cemetery."
Rosemary was so surprised. She didn't know her great-great-grandmother had lost the locket. She thought it was meant for her.
Rosemary decided to go to the Northland Cemetery, where she found her great-great-grandmother's grave. It read: "In loving memory _ Mary Rose Didion." Rosemary noticed that her great-great-grandmother's gravestone was cracked.
The figure appeared still, every other night as usual. One night Rosemary got up while the ghost or figure was there.
She said, "What do you want?"
The ghost threw her arms up, motioning the room and then pointed to herself.
"This is your room?" Rosemary asked.
The ghost bobbed her head, nodding yes. Then she pointed to the necklace Rosemary had forgotten to take off before going to bed. Then she pointed to herself again.
"This is your locket?" Rosemary asked, remembering what it said in the newspaper.
The ghost nodded her head yes, again.
"Do you want it?" Rosemary asked.
Again she nodded her head, yes.
Rosemary took it off and handed it to her. Then she vanished.
The next day Rosemary decided to take some flowers to her great-great-grandmother's grave.
When she got there and found her grave, she noticed the gravestone was not cracked anymore. It was put back together.
Then she saw right below the gravestone was her locket. She opened it up and instead of her face being pale with a sad frown on her face, she had rosy cheeks and she had a smile on her face. Rosemary closed it up and put it on. She took the flowers and formed them into the letters "T-H-A-N-K-S."
Lydia, 10, is a fifth-grader at North Shore Elementary School in St. Petersburg.