- The Scientist // Coldplay
Occupation: Owner of the Fitzgerald Museum
Likes: Fruit, alcohol, classical music, history, romance, blankets
Dislikes: Ghost stories, scary movies, nail polish, coffee, candles, greasy food
Bio: For people like Scarlett, the Fitzgerald Museum is the source of great and valuable information about the 50s. She's a tough cookie and if there's one thing that annoys Scarlett is that people always come to her museum asking about the ghosts... because she doesn't believe they exist. However, some strange things have been happening there. At first, Scarlett thought someone was trying to break into the museum (because it has happened before) but the noises are persistent and she's having her doubts these days... maybe the ghosts are real.
Relationship status: Single
Model: Summer Glau
“If you are not well by tomorrow you may not wake up the thursday.” I threatened down the phone. Or was a threatening as one could be when whispering.
“I did tell you to get someone to cover for me.” The slightly snuffly voice of my best friend Bradley floated back, punctuated my a convenient cough. The best friend who helped me run this place and he’d had been off sick for the past week.
“You also told me that it was just a cold,” I hissed down the line, so that no one would hear me, “and that you’d be back in a day or two. It’s been seven days.”
“I know-“ he started to say before I cut him off.
“Seven fucking day Bradley.” I could hear my voice starting to rise in annoyance so I made an effort to lower it, “Do you know how much I have to do around here in seven days.”
“I know Scarlett and I’m sorry.” He did sound sorry, and sick so I wouldn’t go to hard on him I was just tired and worked to the bone.
“I know, I know.” I grumbled with a sigh, “Look just hurry up and get better soon okay?”
“I’ll try princess.” Was the reply I got back, which was good it meant he was feeling more like himself, “I don’t enjoy feeling violently ill either.”
“Oh hush you.” I rolled my eyes, “Sleep and get better. I’ll continue to deal with this place.” I sighed, standing up and smoothing out my skirt, “You owe me one.”
“That I do.” He agreed through another coughing fit, “Work hard Scarlett.”
“I hate you.” I muttered before hanging up and emerging from the storeroom where I’d been hiding from the tourists with questions and just the work I had to do in general. Another one of those stupid ghost tours was here, and since it was near closing time I had my work cut out for me getting rid of them. Funnily enough, Bradley at his 6”3 height was much more intimidating and efficient at getting rid of them than little old me.
It was 8 o’clock by the time I got the last of them out, more than 2 hours after closing time. Which meant after I cleaned and got everything read for tomorrow it would be after 11. I started to hate Bradley again.
By 9:30, I was so tired that I began to hallucinate. Or at least that was the only explanation for the flash of white I swear I saw rounding the corner, accompanied my the rustle of fabric. I followed it, too see if it was one of the stupid ghost hunters, except the corridor was a dead end and there was no one there.
I sighed to myself, making my way back to the front desk so that I could check and double check the booking for tomorrow. On the way there I thought I heard jazz music interspersed with screaming. Which was basically when I decide that I was too tired for this shit.
Instead I gathered my things and hurried to lock up for the night, perhaps more hastily than usual before jumping in my car and calling my sister Honey to chat on speaker phone the way whole home. If I was tired enough to imagine the so called ghosts people came hunting for I was tired enough to crash my car - conversing with my sister was always a good way to stay awake.
I wasn’t going to get anything else useful done tonight which was why I was leaving.
I certainly wasn’t running from non-existent ghosts.