I glanced around the dark oak doorframe into the dining room. Mrs. Neilson, the realtor, was not her normal perky self. That was to be expected since the man standing in the center of the room surveying everything was the tenth person to look at the house in the past four months. If she did not make this sale, then her reputation was going to spiral down the toilet. "Are you sure you want to live here? The previous owners had... issues with the house." The client, a man who looked to be in his late forties, walked over to one of the walls. The dull green wallpaper was starting to peel, revealing the ugly sealant beneath. He tugged at a piece of curling paper. "You said this house was passed over more than several times?" "Unfortunately," Mrs. Neilson replied. "It's quite a steal, but it'll need some TLC." The man hummed, then looked directly at me. I swiftly moved away from the doorway, pressing my back against the wall. A slight shiver of fear wracked my body. I hoped that man had not seen me. "I'll take it." "I mean it just needs some new paint - Wait. What? You want it?" "Yes. It could be a great summer project for my boys." The man chuckled. "It'll be a live-in project." "Oh! Well. Okay, then! Let's go get the paperwork!" Their footsteps walked away. I squeezed my eyes shut and huffed angrily. Someone honestly, truly bought this place. This house had not had an occupant since the Pols family, and they left over a year ago. Clumps of dust had gathered on every surface. Leaves clogged the window sills and the gutters. The yard was so overgrown I was sure I had seen a tiger stalking through the tall grass. One of the windows in an upstairs bedroom was cracked; the wind would whistle through it, creating a haunting melody. This place was a dump. And someone bought it. My eyes flew open as two sets of footsteps walked into the dining room. They were different from Mrs. Neilson's familiar pitter-patter and the man's heavy steps. "This is our new home?" "Is there wifi yet?" "No! Beds first, then internet set-up." "But I want the internet now!" The man's sons. One was older. The other was younger and annoying. "Not right now, Ty. Come on. Dad wants us to pick a bedroom. We will have separate bedrooms." "You mean I have to sleep alone in this old house? But I don't want to! It's old and scary and-and-and it smells bad here!" A frustrated sigh. I shook my head in disgust. What did I do to receive such a cruel punishment? --- I watched from behind the bookshelf as Mr. Fuller - the man who bought the house - sorted through a cardboard box. He was a short man but not too chubby. His grey-speckled brown hair was starting to thin, leaving a shiny bald spot at the top of his dome. He always dressed like he was getting ready to go to a barbeque being held at a church or something: crisp clean button-ups, slacks, and loafers. A thin chain hung around his neck. "Hmm." He had been humming to himself for the better part of ten minutes. "Hmm..." In the silence of the house, it was nearly impossible to tune him out. I mocked him quietly. Mr. Fuller's head suddenly whipped up. His blue eyes darted in my direction. I slid further out of sight. "I must get that window fixed," he said out loud to himself. I pursed my lips. Something shiny caught my eye. There, on the floor, was a small rusty nail. I stared at it for a moment then kicked it with the toe of my sneaker. It made a light clattering sound as it skittered across the wooden floor. There was a heavy thud, and I assumed Mr. Fuller had fallen backward. "What in the world -" I peeked with one eye around the edge of the bookshelf. The nail fell silent as it came to a stop about a yard from Mr. Fuller's cardboard box. The man had indeed fallen onto his backside. His eyes had widened to the size of small saucers. Then he suddenly looked at me. I jumped back, fear pulsing through my body. "Hello? I-Is someone there?" My eyes darted around the room. I needed an escape route, and quick! A large cabinet was nearby. It had a large upper part with doors that swung forward. I quickly opened one of the doors and stuffed myself inside, shoving the jackets in front of me. Mr. Fuller's footsteps echoed in the room as I snapped the door shut. "Hello?" I could hear Mr. Fuller coming closer. I cupped my hand over my mouth to muffle my breathing. This was a mistake. The closet was the most obvious hiding spot in such a barely furnished room. If only I had not kicked that nail. Why - Why did I do that? The door to the cabinet was flung open. A hand, decorated with a golden band on the ring finger, reached through the jackets. I pressed myself against the back of the cabinet. The blast of a ringtone filled the silence. I just barely stopped myself from jumping out of my skin. Mr. Fuller leaped backward away from the cabinet, cursing under his breath. Then he said a prayer asking for forgiveness, that I just had to roll my eyes at even though I had been frightened out of my wits. "H-Hello?" I breathed a silent sigh of relief. "N-No. I'm not busy. I can talk." Mr. Fuller started to walk away. "No. I - I just had a fright." Mr. Fuller's steps became duller as he went back to the other room. I waited a few more moments before I quietly left the cabinet. I took care to close it completely before walking away. Mr. Fuller's voice came from the kitchen. "I have a strange question for you, Mrs. Neilson. What do you know about the history of this house? Anything... spooky happen here?" Oh. The usual question. I scoffed and left the room, heading for the stairs to go to the attic door. I was tired. Mr. Fuller droned on in the other room. He did not hear when walked up the stairs or the sound of the attic door opening then closing. He must have been completely drawn into his conversation. The attic was my domain. No one liked coming up here. If the bats and the heat and boxes filled with questionable gunk did not keep people out, then the darkness did. Sure, there were lights in the attic, but they were not the best. A few desperately needed to be replaced. The ventilation windows at either end did allow some light inside, though it was as dusty as the rafters. The floor was made of rough wood that had not been touched up in years. Dusty pink insulation peeked up through the cracks. It had been a while since someone replaced it, so it was more of a fire hazard than a warmth holder. In the darkest corner of the attic was my bed of several sleeping bags piled together. All of them were speckled with dark spots. Next to the pile was a small stack of dusty yellowed papers. They were covered in my slanted cursive. The candles I had been using to keep the darkness away had been reduced to puddles. I breathed a sigh as I dropped onto my pile. As the light shifted in the attic I found myself staring at the roof. I did not have a reason for kicking that nail at Mr. Fuller. I guess I am upset someone bought the house. I had lived here alone for a long while, and now... Now I have to share my silence, my home. I frowned. I did not like sharing my space. It had been easy to get rid of the Pols. They did not last two months living here. Mr. and Mrs. Pol had grown concerned when their son told them he had an imaginary friend because to them he was clearly over the age to be believing in such things. They became hysterical when he had told them about the young man who walks down the hall every night. I kind of miss them. Kind of. I knew this family would not be driven out as easily. Mr. Fuller was a man of faith and seemed to be very skeptical about anything. When his son Ty had cried the first night about the monster under his bed, Mr. Fuller had grabbed a flashlight and showed Ty the space that was underneath. He had explained that it was just nerves of being in a new house that creaked and groaned. I had softly knocked on the wall, sending Ty into a frenzy. "It's just a mouse, son," Mr. Fuller had reassured his blubbering child. "It's an old house. I'll tell you what. Tomorrow I'll go get some mouse traps. You can watch me set them up so we both know where they are. If that mouse does not get caught, we'll get a kitten." Ty had shut up rather quickly after that. Mr. Fuller was a great father, there was no denying that. But he and his sons were in my place. And I could not have that. --- It was Hallowe'en of all holidays when I finally received the opportunity to scare Mr. Fuller's older son. Gaege had been planning something special for his friends. Something that his father would absolutely would not agree with. I had heard him talking on his phone to them through the attic floor. I had been waiting for this night. After Mr. Fuller took the whining brat of a younger son out to trick-or-treat ("Why can't you carry the bag, Dad? It'll get heavy!" "I will help when it becomes too heavy, son.") Gaege started to make some calls. I hid on the shadowy staircase, listening as he told his friends to come over and to bring it. I really, really wanted them to bring it. I did not have to wait long for the doorbell to ring. Shrinking further into the shadows, I watched as some of Gaege's friends walked into the house. I narrowed my eyes, scanning the new people until I saw it. I felt my skin start to tingle with excitement. "Are you sure we should be doing this?" one of the guys asked. He was wearing a lacrosse jacket similar to Gaege's. "I mean, isn't this house supposed to be haunted?" "Supposedly someone took their life in this house." One of the girls was looking around the living room. "It's whatever," Gaege said. "I don't know if the rumors are true or not." He motioned for one of his male friends to follow him into the kitchen. "Help me with the drinks, will you?" "The rest of you set up the board." I dared to lean forward. Gaege and his friend passed without noticing me lurking in the shadows. The others sat down on the sofa and the floor around the low coffee table. A girl set down a wooden board then produced a planchette from her hoodie pocket. "You know, if someone did die in this house, then we shouldn't play this here." "Shut up, man. Gaege was probably just scaring us." "I don't know. This house gives me the creeps." "Are you talking crap about my house?" Gaege asked in an annoyed tone. "Come on, guys. No one died in here, except us because you're killing the vibe." He and his friend set down the bottles of soda they had brought from the kitchen. Some candles were brought out and set on the table. A girl lit them, and one of the boys turned off the lights. Everything was cast into deep shadows. Instantly the atmosphere became more chilling. I carefully slithered to the first step, still crouched. The rocks in my pocket rattled quietly but did not catch the attention of the group. "Okay, guys." The blond girl put the planchette on the board. "You know the rules." "Yeah, yeah," Gaege's teammate said in a bored whisper. "Let's just get this over with." "Why? Scared?" "Oh, yeah. I'm quaking in my cleats." "Shut up, you guys. Mel, let's start." The blond girl, Mel, gave a solemn nod. "Everyone put a finger on the planchette." I drew my tongue over my teeth. The teenagers shuffled for a moment to get themselves comfortable. "Is there someone - " "This is so lame." "Shh. Shut up, dude. You're ruining the spirit of Hallowe'en." I huffed quietly in annoyance. "Is there someone here with us?" Nobody moved. "Is there a spirit - Was that you?" "No." "Yes, it was, Jess! I just saw your finger move!" "Dude, we're trying to be serious here!" "Okay. Okay, okay, okay. I'll be serious." There was muffled laughter. "Okay, now I'm being serious." Mel asked three more times if someone was there. I was starting to grow impatient with the giggling and accusations. I reached into my pocket. "Guys, no one's going to answer. There are no ghosts here." I curled my finger around one of the little rocks. "I told you this was lame, guys." Silent as the shadows around me, I withdrew the rock from my pocket then flung it towards the wall. It struck with a tap that seemed to echo. "Shh! Did someone hear that?" "What?" "You're hearing things, Frankie." "No. I'm serious. It sounded like something hit the wall." "It's an old house, Frankie. There are weird sounds." A second rock also hit the wall but a slight bit closer to the group. "There it was again!" "I heard that." "What was it?" A third rock lightly hit the closest window. The group jumped at the pinging sound it created. I smirked as I watched a collective shiver run through them. Taking my chances, I grabbed a slightly bigger stone. This one I aimed at one of the boys, Gaege's teammate. It bounced off the back of his head. His hand came flying up as he stood from the crooked circle. "What was that?!" he demanded, whipping around to stare into the shadows; I shifted deeper into mine. "Did one of you throw something at me?" he demanded to his friends. "Dude, how can we throw something at the back of your head?" asked Gaege. "We're all right here in front of you." My smirk morphed to a grin. "Sit down, Lyon. It was probably rubble or something from the ceiling." All six looked up. "See? It's still a bit crumbly." "Yeah. Dad wants us to start on that next week." "Man, you've been here at least six months," one of the others, Jess, I assumed, said, "and you guys haven't even touched the ceiling yet?" "Dad's been wanting to do that in the next few weeks." "Better do it before it gets too cold to air out the house." "Can we keep going, please?" The group returned to the board, setting their fingers once more on the planchette. Mel starting asking questions again. This time the planchette moved, but I could not fathom how unless one of them was doing it to psych out the others. After a couple of minutes, boredom started to set in. They would soon be putting up the board; Mr. Fuller was due home in an hour. My little rocks had done nothing to make them believe there was something wrong with the house. I crept up the stairs, being careful not to put any weight on the fifth step. It creaked loudly and would give me away. When I made it to the upper floor landing I made for Ty's room. He had a toybox that was filled to the brim with random stuff. Perhaps I could find something of use there. His door - now painted a pale blue - was open. Thankfully the new carpet Mr. Fuller had installed muffled my steps as I tiptoed over to the box at the foot of the rumpled bed. After a quick search, I had some little toys in my hoodie pocket and a small yellow smiley face ball in my hand. "Come on, guys," I heard one of the teens say as I returned to the landing. "This is boring. I heard there's a good Hallowe'en movie special going on right now. Where's your remote, Gaege?" I crouched down on the top step. The shuffling of the teenagers getting up drifted upstairs. I rested the back of my hand against the floor. My fingers released the ball. It rolled out of my hand. ...Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. I watched, fascinated. The ball gathered speed as it descended the stairs. When it finally bounced past the lowest step, it had gathered enough momentum to soar across the room and strike the wall. "What was that?!" "Where did that - " "Gaege, are your dad and bro playing a prank?" "Dad! Is that you?" I pulled one of the little toys out of my pocket. A little red racecar that had dents from where it had struck walls. I also sent that down the stairs. "Oh my - " "You said your house wasn't haunted!" "It's not! Who's there?" A second toy was withdrawn. It was a little wind-up ghost. I twisted the knob then held it still so the toy would not go off. I stood up slightly and moved away from the stairs. "If someone's up there, you're in big trouble!" "Should we call the cops?" The lights downstairs were turned on. I knew I did not have long. I set the wind-up toy on the floor and walked to the attic door. It was barely closed behind me when footsteps thundered up the steps. "Ty's door is open." "Guys... That toy - " Scuffling on the landing. "It's a wind-up toy!" one of the girls said in a shrill tone. I winced. "Is this some kind of joke?" "We were all downstairs," Mel, I think, said in a harsh whisper. The feeling of doom seemed to bore through the attic door. I snickered quietly. "Is someone there?!" "We've got a gun, and we're calling the cops!" I rolled my eyes. I doubt any of them even knew how to pull a trigger. "Come on." I heard them go to Ty's room. It would not be long before they also checked the other two bedrooms and the bathroom. Then, if they were brave enough, they would try to go to the attic. I had anticipated this. I knew if they did indeed come up then I would have to climb into the rafters and hide inside what used to be the chimney. It had been boarded up years ago when some contractors ripped it out. But there was a large hole in the side facing away from the stairs. It was just wide enough for me to shimmy inside and curl up on the boards. "No one in Dad's room." "Your room is clear." "So is the bathroom. No one hiding behind the shower curtain." "Why would someone - " "It's in every horror movie! The killer is behind the shower curtain! Always!" "Woah! Woah! Woah. Calm down!" "Don't tell me to calm down!" I brought a hand to my mouth to muffle my soft chuckles. "There are no killers loose in my house!" Gaege cried, exasperated. "It probably had a couple of clicks left in it. Ty must've dropped it when he and Dad left." "Or maybe your house is haunted..." "Wait!" My eyes widened for a moment. I slowly crawled up the nine steps to my domain. With my free hand, I carefully set the last of the toys, a small plastic dragon, on the third step from the top. "There's one place we haven't check yet..." "No. No way! I'm not going up there!" "Oh, I thought you were a macho guy, Lyon!" I stood up and scurried to the side of the steps. There was no railing, only dusty beams of wood, at the top. I leaned against one of them, peering down at the door. It was framed on all four sides by the hallway light, which morphed into a solid beam as the door was flung open almost violently. The light blinded me, and I stumbled backward. "Dude, I swear I just saw someone standing up there!" "Come on! Don't say things like that!" I rapidly blinked my vision back to normal. Without another moment to lose, I hurried as quietly as I could to the broken chimney. "I swear! There was a face!" "I told you that board was a bad idea! But, no, no one listens to the rational one!" "Shut up. You have a flashlight?" Fear pulsed through my body, but thankfully I reached the chimney as a small spot of light appeared on the far wall. I jumped up and grabbed a rafter. With a soft grunt, I hoisted myself into the boarded-up chimney. Crammed into the small space, I listened as the group freaked out over the dragon. "How did that get here?" "Is that a dragon?" "I'm pretty sure it's Ty's." A cluster of footsteps pounded up the stairs. I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew there was no way they could see me, but they could still wander over and look up. "Do you see anything?" "No." "I'm telling you I saw a face!" "I think you were just seeing things." "Then what about the toys? The ball? Things like that don't just happen. Someone must have moved those things!" "But no one's here but us. Right?" "Yeah. It's just us." I winced as a shout of greeting echoed up the stairs. "Oh no! Dad's home! The board." The group rushed downstairs. The silence they left behind seemed to echo. I stayed in my hiding spot for a long time. At some point, Mr. Fuller's familiar footsteps had ascended to the attic. He shuffled around for a few moments before returning downstairs. What I believe was a few hours later, I slowly dropped out of my hiding spot. Everyone must have gone to sleep; the only sounds I could hear were the usual creaks and groans of the old house. And Mr. Fuller's snoring. I tiptoed over to the attic stairs. The little dragon figurine was gone; one of the teens must have grabbed it. I would have to find it again later. I liked it. My footsteps were silent as I descended the steps. The door barely made a sound when it was opened then closed. A light from downstairs was still on, illuminating the stairway and part of the second-floor landing. Mr. Fuller's loud snores echoed from behind his closed door. I used that to my advantage: I only stepped down when he snored. It took a few minutes to get down the stairs though. Once on the second floor, I darted through the living room to the kitchen. The clock on the wall ticked loudly; its face said it was only sixteen after two. Had I been in a cramped broken chimney that long? In a fit of frustration, I shoved against the refrigerator. Some of the magnets fell to the floor with a clatter. Annoyed, I kicked one away from me. It skittered across the floor before stopping in front of the sink on the other side of the room. That didn't help my anger. I reached for the knife block on the counter and tucked my hand into my long sleeve shirt before choosing the smallest one. Its sharp blade shone in the moonlight that came from the windows. I turned back to the kitchen doorway. A thump from upstairs immediately had my eyes on the ceiling. Was one of the boys still awake? I frowned. Why? My frustration increased. I stared at the far wall, taking in the way the moonlight danced with the shadows. For a moment my mind lost focus and I felt like I was starting to drift. It was a peaceful feeling. Then my brain was suddenly and violently dragged back to earth. I scowled. I stepped over to the stove and raised the knife. I stabbed the wall, piercing right through that ugly paint. The color Mr. Fuller had decided for the kitchen always irked me. It was a gaudy pale blue that did not seem fitting for such a room. Some of it stuck to the blade when it was withdrawn. I set the knife on the stovetop. That took care of some of my frustration, but... An idea sprouted in my mind. I opened a drawer nearby. It was a catch-all drawer; if Mr. Fuller or Gaege found something like a puzzle piece or a toy block, they would put it in there. I also knew that was where Mr. Fuller left a few markers. With nimble fingers, I quickly found one. It was blue. I smirked. --- I sat on the fourth to bottom attic step. I was waiting. Then it happened. A loud explosion of "Gaege! Kitchen, now!" A loud thump followed the yell. No doubt Gaege fell out of bed. The door to his room slammed open, and his steps charged down the stairs. "What, Dad?!" I rested my elbows on my knees and my chin on my fists. "What have you done to my kitchen?" "What do you mean?" "What do you mean 'what do you mean?' What is this?" I could picture Mr. Fuller pointing a finger at the wall. "I don't know." "Did you do this as a Hallowe'en joke?" "No, Dad! I swear. We were only in the kitchen to get soda." "Was it one of your friends?" "No! It was probably the ghost!" I chuckled. --- I spent a whole two weeks doing nothing. Which is quite shocking. Maybe it had something to do with November. It was that month when you knew winter was really on its way and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. But it also held a festive feeling because of Thanksgiving. A flippy-floppy month. It was also the month when Christmas crap took over the awesome Hallowe'en decorations. It was not that I abhorred the merry season, but I greatly disliked what it had become. That one cartoon the Pols watched when they lived here was right. Christmas did equal commercialism. It disgusted me. Even more so than Ty's annoying whining about having to go visit Mr. Fuller's sister. "But, Dad, Aunty Elle's potatoes never have enough butter!" "That's why the butter is placed on the table during dinner." "But the turkey will be too big!" Seriously, why would he complain about a turkey? He was lucky his family could afford one. The price of those birds was outrageous! I had breathed an audible sigh of relief when the door was locked and the car left the driveway. I waited over an hour before I moved an inch. The first thing I did was go to the television. Sometimes during the day when Mr. Fuller was at work and the boys were at school, I would turn it on. The volume never went about a loud whisper. I did not want to draw attention to the house by blaring the news. I managed to catch the middle and end of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. That was always a joy to watch. This year none of the singers were caught lip-syncing, which was strangely disappointing. After the parade, I watched the Thanksgiving version of that Christmas cartoon. Then one with a very fat orange cat. There was no doubt in my mind, that grandma was the smoothest, coolest person of all time. When the sunlight started to fade I had to turn off the television. The silence was deafening for a moment. Then the knob to the front door rattled. I bolted to the dining room. From Ty and Gaege griping about a long drive to Aunt Elle's house, I knew it could not be them. I glanced around the doorframe. A shadow passed by the window nearest the door. I narrowed my eyes. The clatter of the doorknob stopped, then the door opened. A man walked inside. He seemed somewhat familiar to me. Had I seen him before? From where? He was not dressed like a typical thief with his blue jeans and dull brown coat. A red ski cap sat atop a pile of greasy curls. Black paint was splotched around his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He looked he was trying to transform into a raccoon. I would have probably found this comical if it weren't for the fact he had just broken into my house. Another man, smaller and slighter than the first, followed him. He had on blue jeans as well, and his windbreaker was blue and white. He had to be cold. His eyes were also encased in black makeup. When both were in the living room, he shut the door. "Let's make this quick." The taller man looked around the room. "This man has got to have some money here," he whispered. "He had enough to do all this work to this place. Looked like something not even a rat would nest in when I looked at it." My eyes widened in recognition. That's where I had seen him. Mrs. Neilson had shown that man this house two months before Mr. Fuller moved in. He had passed on it when he was told all the copper pipes had been stripped from the house. Not like I had a hand in that or anything... The intruders started to go for the television. "One hundred for this one, right?" "For how fancy it is I'd say two hundred at least. Let's come back for it. Get the small stuff first." I heard their footsteps pounding through the living room. Quickly, I made my way to the kitchen. I had just barely slipped through the doorway when the thieves entered the dining room. My eyes darted around frantically for somewhere to hide. But there were no large cabinets in the kitchen, and the backdoor was bolted shut from the outside. I pressed my back against the fridge. There was no escape. What was I going to do? Sighing quietly I knew exactly what had to be done. I tiptoed over to the knife block and took out the largest one. For a moment I marveled at the way the light danced off the edge. I crept back to the kitchen doorway. Peering around the frame, I saw the two men whispering to each other. I snatched a magnet from the fridge and threw it at them. It struck Red Hat. "What the - " The beam of its flashlight bounced around on the floor. "What?" "Something hit me." "It was probably a part of the ceiling." A ball of light was aimed upwards. "See? Fuller hasn't done the whole ceiling yet." Red Hat grunted. I threw another magnet. This one hit one of the pictures hanging on the wall, which swayed for a moment before sliding down to the floor. The wooden frame made a dull thud. Surprisingly, the glass did not shatter. Must be one of those indestructible ones; I'd have to test that later. Red Hat and No Hat jumped. "Tha - That just fell! The picture fell!" "It must be from our footsteps. You know, the vibration could have made it fall." A skeptic, huh? Glancing around for more ammunition, I spotted a small plastic jar on top of the fridge. It was a makeshift piggy bank for Ty. A replacement for the one he broke on purpose so his father would buy him a new one. Mr. Fuller was not going to purchase another breakable one, so he created one from a duct-taped coffee can. Ty had tried to get into it, but Mr. Fuller had even super glued the top shut. Only a knife would be able to open it. I grabbed it. I aimed. I threw it. The can went sailing through the air. It landed with the loudest clatter I had ever heard. The sound of dozens of coins slamming into each other and the plastic walls of their prison echoed. The thieves screamed out curses before turning on each other. "You said no one was home!" "No one is home! It's only the three of them and they left!" "Then who threw that?" "How am I supposed to know? What? Do you think I somehow pulled a magic trick? Made the can fall on its own?!" "I don't how you did it - Did you see that?" Red Hat was staring over his fellow thief's shoulder. At me. I quickly moved back into the shadows. "Someone's here." Red Hat's voice was a chilling whisper. "Who?" "Shh! Someone is in the kitchen." I held up the knife. "What?" "I saw... someone... in the kitchen." "No one should be here," No Hat remarked, a slight tremble in his voice. I threw myself into the dining room, landing with a thud that seemed to shake the house. I raised the knife above my head. My throat was burned as a wordless roar flew from my mouth. Twin alarmingly high-pitched screams almost drowned out my bellow of rage. I charged towards them, stomping on the wooden floor. The men scrambled over themselves as they tried to run away. Red Hat slammed his face into the door frame; he fell heavily to the ground. No Hat snatched him by the shoulders. "Let's go! Get up!" No Hat dragged Red Hat to the front door. About halfway there Red Hat found his footing and shoved past his friend. They left the door open, and the faint acrid scent of urine behind them. I huffed out a breath before returning the knife, the money jar, and the magnets to the kitchen. Then I picked up the picture - Gaege and Ty smiled up at me - and returned it to its spot. When I glanced out a window in the living room I could see red and blue lights. Another neighbor must have heard the screaming or seen the thieves, or both, and called the cops. I shut the front door and locked it. It was as if no one had been there. I sat down on the stairs, smirking. As soon as I heard a car pull into the driveway, I hurried upstairs and into Gaege's room. I opened the window that looked out over the front yard. Voices drifted up to me. "Th-Th-There's a m-m-man with a kn-knife i-in there!" "A man with a knife. Are you sure?" "He r-ran! He ran at us!" I leaned forward a bit. A police officer was interrogating one of the thieves, No Hat. He was in handcuffs, leaning over the hood of the police cruiser. An ambulance was parked nearby. I could see Red Hat sitting on the gurney inside. His face was bleeding from a cut that stretched from his forehead to his right cheek. A few more police walked up to the front door; I lost sight of them when they stepped onto the front porch. "The door is locked." "Excuse me?" "The front door is locked," the first voice repeated. "There's no sign of foul play with the lock either." I smirked. "Sarah, try to talk to the one in the ambulance. Get his side of the story." A female officer, Sarah, walked over to the medical vehicle. Red Hat did not have as much blood on his face now; butterfly bandages were keeping the cut closed. "Sir, can you speak?" "Yes," Red Hat said after a moment. "Can you tell me what happened?" Red Hat sighed noisily. I licked my lips. This ought to be good. "I already know I'm... I'm going to jail," he said. "We were trying to rob the place. Almost did." His face paled and his eyes grew wide. "He - He - We did not know he was there. He had a kn-knife. Came at us." He looked at the house. "He mu-must still be in there!" His gaze drifted up to Gaege's window. I grinned at him. He grabbed his chest in a tight grip. "There!" he screeched. "He's still in there!" He pointed with his other hand. I dropped below the window as Sarah turned to look as well. "Sir, there's nothing there." "I'm telling you! He was right there!" I bit my thumbnail, chuckling quietly. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down." "But he's in there!" "Calhoun, Trist, circle the house for possible signs of entry." Two officers scurried away. "So, what did he say happened?" "Same as the other man. They went inside to rob the house. A man with a knife chased them out." I dared to peek out the window. Red Hat was still staring at the window, blabbering nonsense. His eyes were comically wide. I smiled and waved at him by wiggling my fingers. He howled in fear. No Hat looked over at Red Hat, then also turned his gaze to the window. "He - He's still in there!" he cried. I ducked out of sight and sat on the floor under the window. "There are no signs of forced entry, Chief." "Really?" "Yes. No broken windows. The back door is bolted. There is nothing to indicate anyone was in the house." "I'm telling you! He's there!" "We swear, officer! Someone is in that house!" A car pulled up. "What is going on?" Oh goody! Mr. Fuller and the boys are home! I smiled. "Sir, are you the owner of this home?" "Yes. I live here. Why are you here?" "Sir, we had received a call about two men screaming nonsense in your neighborhood. Apparently, they tried to rob your house. But they claim to have been chased out by some guy with a knife." "I assure you, no one should be in my house. We were just at my sister's for Thanksgiving dinner." "You have been gone all day?" "Yes, sir." "Sir! Sir! You've got to believe me! There's a lunatic in your house!" Lunatic? Hmm... That's a new one. "Has anyone been inside yet to see if anything was stolen?" "We had to wait until we were in contact with the homeowner before we could investigate further. But since you're here we can get it underway. The funny thing is my team has told me that there is absolutely no indication of a break-in." "No indi - Then why do they claim to be in my house?" "We are not sure." "Please! You need to believe us! We were trying to rob the place. You have money if you can fix up this piece of junk!" My smile dropped to a scowl. My territory was not junk. "We - We were in there! We were! He - He was in the kitchen! Had a knife! Screamed like a raging demon!" I snorted. "What's going on, Dad?" Ty's voice was a high-pitched whine. "I want to sleep!" "You will soon, son. The police are just going to check the house real quick." "Why?" I tuned out Ty. His persistent griping turned to static in my head. The front door was opened. I got to my feet and hurried into the shadows. "Sweep the house. Bottom to top." I sprinted to my attic, using the heavy footsteps thundering downstairs to muffle my feet. I rushed up the stairs and to the broken chimney. Panting heavily, I shoved myself into the tiny space just as the police made it to the second-floor landing. "The attic door is open. Ask Mr. Fuller if it's supposed to be closed." I silently cursed myself for my carelessness. It was not often I slipped up; usually, it was something small like leaving a pen out or something trivial like that. But I always closed the attic door... "This is the Cee County Police," a voice called. "If anyone is up there, come down with your hands in the air. If you do not comply, we will come up!" I buried my face in my arms, hugging my knees close to my chest. A few moments later I heard one of the officers say the attic door had been closed when Mr. Fuller had left this morning. "One last chance! Come down with your hands up!" I squeezed my eyes shut. "We are coming up!" Heavy footsteps charged up the stairs. "Police!" "There's no one here." "Chief, I don't see anybody." "Check the rafters." Then I heard one of them coming towards the broken chimney. Thud! Thud! Thud! They were right there. Only a thin brick wall separated us. I could hear their breathing. Was I finally caught? I barely opened my eyes. The beam from their flashlight was focused on the wall right in front of me! "There's no one here," a voice said after a moment. "The rest of the house is secure, so what - " "It could have been a breeze. This house is old; there's bound to be a draft. It probably opened the door." The officer's light moved away. "Okay, team, let's go. There's no one here." "Should we bring in the dogs?" I felt a flash of panic. "No. There isn't anyone in the house, and it was locked up tight when Mr. Fuller left. Let's go down and talk to those two men again. They could be high on something." The police left the attic. I did not leave the chimney for fear of anyone returning, and someone did. After what felt like hours, a single set of footsteps came back. I recognized them as Mr. Fuller's. I could just picture him standing on the top step, confused about the entire situation. "Thank you." What? I lifted my head so I could hear better. What did he just say? "Thank you," Mr. Fuller repeated, "for watching over the house. I don't know who you are, or even what you are, but I know you are there." He laughed quietly. "You don't think I haven't noticed you just hiding out of sight? I knew it was you who vandalized my kitchen wall on Halloween. No more of that, okay?" Mr. Fuller sighed. "I must be crazy, talking to thin air." He went back downstairs. His bedroom door was shut moments later. I drew my tongue over my cracked lower lip. Mr. Fuller knew. He knew I was in the house. And he just thanked me? I waited for at least another hour before leaving the chimney. Snores muffled my descending feet as I went down to the first floor. The kitchen light had been left on, illuminating most of the downstairs. Not wanting to risk getting caught, I quickly found a pen and a piece of paper and jotted down a "You're welcome" note. I left it on the dining room table then made my way to the basement stairs. There was no way I was sleeping in my attic tonight. I would gladly suffer in the cold of the basement if it meant not having to wake up to Mr. Fuller finding me in my bed. --- Things returned to normal about a week after the Thanksgiving break-in. Ty would wake up from nightmares and would race to his father's room in the middle of the night. Gaege had received more attention at school. When word got out that it was his haunted house that had been broken into, the other students had flocked to him and asked him repeatedly to tell them about the ghost that chased away the thieves. Mr. Fuller had installed a brand new security system around the house. Top-of-the-line techno-stuff. I had watched him as he installed the security code, which was a weird experience. Mr. Fuller had been standing to the side when he did it, giving me the perfect view of the code. I didn't think he did that on purpose until he turned to the empty room and said, "Try to remember that." I almost felt humbled by the way he trusted me. Did this have something to do with Thanksgiving? All I wanted to do was get those intruders out of my house. I accidentally did more than that. According to the news, the men had been insistent about breaking into a home that was locked and had been scared to death by a man holding a blade. No drugs were found in their systems, of course. So the officials did the next best thing: chucked them in a psychiatric hospital for a mental evaluation. I had not meant to drive them to a place like that, but karma deals a bad hand to law-breakers. Thanks to the shock of Mr. Fuller acknowledging my existence, I did not bother them. That was until they started to put up Christmas decorations. Seeing the commercialism on display outside and inside the house annoyed me. I had never needed the house to be decorated. It was perfectly fine the way it was. I was not going to do anything to their paper snowflakes or the fake holly that had been draped across the doorways. But I quickly changed my mind when Mr. Fuller placed a giant inflatable Saint Nick in the front yard. Nope. He was not going to get away with it. The decorations in the dining room were the first things I messed with. Mr. Fuller had placed some battery-powered candles in the windows. I moved them to a different spot on the sill. But no matter how many times I did this Mr. Fuller would not take them down. So I moved onto the snowglobes he put on the dining room table. At least three times a week I would shuffle them. This managed to get a rise out of Ty, which was amusing. In the living room, the sofa had been scooted over to make room for a large tree. It wasn't a real one, which could have ruined the new floors. No, it was big, green, and plastic. A whole afternoon had been spent decorating it. And now it stood in all its decked-out glory in the corner with a shiny aluminum star on the top. The first night of it being up I took off the gaudy gold tinsel and left it in a pile in the middle of the room. To my annoyance, Mr. Fuller had picked it up before Ty woke up. I wanted to give the kid a bit of a fright, just to keep him on his toes. But Mr. Fuller had put a stop to that fun. I had watched him return the tinsel to the cardboard box. Then presents seemed to magically sprout, like multi-colored mushrooms, under the tree the week before Christmas. At first, I had been fascinated by the way the lights from the tree made the wrapping paper sparkle. Like diamonds or sapphires left out under the Northern Lights. I spent well over two hours sitting on the bottom step admiring the brilliant display. The fascination did not last long. I took every one of Gaege's presents and scattered them throughout the living room. A few were on the sofa. Another on top of the television. A small one was stuffed into a slipper. I did not mess with Ty's presents. I had gotten enough enjoyment watching him freak out over the snowglobes. The twenty-first of December was the one night I did not do anything to the presents. I would not pull any tricks. Instead, I took one of the battery candles to my attic and sat in a long silent vigil. I became lost in my dark thoughts, cursing myself for what felt like the millionth time. I was angry at myself for still being in this house. I should have moved on long ago, but something compelled me to stay, even after Mr. Fuller realized I was in the house. I returned the candle downstairs just before dawn, leaving it on the table. --- It was a bright spring day when we received a visitor who was not a member of the family. I did not know we were expecting company, but Mr. Fuller did. Mrs. Neilson, the realtor, had stopped by to see what Mr. Fuller and his sons had done to the house. A tour of the downstairs had been given; the realtor respected Mr. Fuller's privacy and did not request to look at the upstairs. She must have been confident that it was just as updated as the bottom half of the house. She was thoroughly impressed by all the work the family had done. "Have you thought about the offer?" asked Mrs. Neilson. "I have." I sat at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the conversation going on in the dining room. I guess time for small talk and pleasantries was over. I had known since Mrs. Neilson walked through the front door that she was here on business. Things had been calm around the house lately. Mr. Fuller finished touching up the upstairs bathroom last week; his chest would swell with pride whenever he looked about the now almost-like-brand-new house. Ty finally settled into a routine that worked for everyone in the house, myself included. He was still a whiny brat though. Gaege had taken to hanging out with friends now that the weather was getting warmer. Most days he would be at the park or somewhere in town with them. Mr. Fuller had made staying out of the attic an official rule. The boys seemed to understand that there was something up there that should not be messed with. They respected that rule; Ty was still too much of a wuss to even touch the door. "And what is your decision?" "I've decided not to sell the house just yet." What? Sell the house? "Are you sure, Archie? With all the renovations you've done to the place, you could put it on the market for quite a high price." "I'm quite sure. There's something about this house that makes it unique, special. The boys and I have become adjusted to living here with this uniqueness. I may sell the house a while down the road. When that happens, I will definitely give you a call, if you're still in business, that is." "You've grown used to the uniqueness?" I sighed, running my hands down my face. Then I stood up and walked across the living room towards the voices. "When we first moved into this house, I felt loneliness so strong it could have driven anyone mad. But now it seems to have... settled. It's a calmer feeling. I used to not believe in such things as houses with emotions, but this house... This house is different." I stood in the doorway. Mr. Fuller's back was to me. Mrs. Neilson sat opposite of him in her smart blue business suit. Steaming mugs of tea sat in front of them. Mrs. Neilson's eyes looked over Mr. Fuller's shoulder and met mine. I blinked and looked away. I stepped fully into the dining room. Mrs. Neilson cleared her throat. "Are you okay, Mrs. Neilson?" When she did not reply, Mr. Fuller's body went rigid. "Wha - What is it?" His voice quavered. "He's here." "Where?" Mr. Fuller made to turn. "Don't look. He'll run again." Mrs. Neilson sipped from a shaky cup. "Who is he?" "His name is Breckin Sawyers," Mrs. Neilson started to explain after a resigned sigh. "He ran away from home when he was seventeen. Family troubles. He took refuge in this house while it was still empty and has been here since. I've tried to get him to leave, but he refuses to go." Mrs. Neilson paused to clear her throat again. "He has been here for seven years." "But that would make him twenty-two years old." "Yes, it would, if he cared to count. He's been here the whole time." "I recall you saying the previous owners - the Pols - moved out because their son was hallucinating about a man walking in the halls. Was that him?" "Yes. He did that on purpose, or so he's said." "He talks?" "When he wants to." "You said he did it on purpose. Why?" "He was tired of hearing them argue about whether or not Mrs. Pol should return to school. So he showed himself to the son several times, and the family moved out. According to him, he was doing them a favor: they move out and there would be less fighting enhanced by the negativity in the house." I shuffled my feet. The toes of my sneakers squeaked on the polished floor. "They are getting along a lot better now, Breckin," Mrs. Neilson answered my unspoken question. Sighing through my nose, I stomped my foot. Mr. Fuller visibly jumped in his seat. I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. "He was just announcing his presence," Mrs. Neilson explained. "This isn't a joke, is it?" When Mrs. Neilson shook her head, Mr. Fuller abruptly stood up from his chair. "I'm going to go make a cup of tea." Without turning to see me, he picked up his still full teacup and rushed to the kitchen. I stared after him for a moment. "I like him," I muttered, taking my hands out of my pocket. I clicked my tongue then licked my lower lip. Mrs. Neilon was still shaking a bit when I looked at her. "You still haven't found a way to get me out of here, have you?" Mrs. Neilson shook her head. A soft look of pity clouded her eyes. "I'm sorry, Breckin." I sighed heavily, once again feeling the heaviness of defeat. "This family appeals to you," she commented quietly. "Ty can be very annoying," I said. "But they're not so bad. This house has had worse occupants. Remember the Rynes? They had issues." "You don't think they'll chase you out, do you?" "I've tried and failed at scaring them out of my house, but Mr. Fuller has just accepted that I am here. I mean, he even showed me the code of the security system. He placed a lot of trust in me, even though he doesn't know me." I glanced at the kitchen; I could see Mr. Fuller's shadow darting around as he prepared a fresh cup of tea. "They've grown used to me being here, and since I can't scare them out I guess they can stay until they decide to leave." I turned away from the realtor. "It's been nice seeing you again. Hopefully the next time you're here, you'll have found a way to get rid of me." I smiled at her. "See you later, Nadine." I walked back into the living room and made for stairs, yawning quietly. As I stepped onto the bottom step, Mr. Fuller's voice drifted to me. "Nadine, I have a question for you and I need you to answer me honestly." "And what is that, Archie?" The words seemed to stick in his throat. He made a weird, concerning sound. I briefly wondered if I should go back in there and ask if he needed some assistance. But then he asked in a quavering voice, "Where in this house did he die?" "In the attic," Mrs. Neilson said after a moment of hesitation. "Suicide. He had... taken sleeping pills and never woke up." I yawned again and stomped up the stairs to my attic. My bed was calling my name.