Part 3

Morning arrived, and the house was already alive with noise. The eighteen‑year‑old girl and her younger brother were upstairs, bickering like troublemakers, while their parents busied themselves with unpacking boxes and beginning what they called a "remodeling project." Such words feel strange to me, but I must learn them—I am an old child ghost living in the present.

I drifted along the downstairs hallway, watching the parents move in and out. With a thought, I chilled the air, leaving a cold breeze in my wake. The mother paused, frowning.

"Nick, did you turn on the AC?" She called.

"No," he replied, joining her. "Why?"

"It suddenly feels cold in here."

He rubbed his arms, puzzled. "You're right. Odd. Don't worry about it."

Upstairs, the boy fiddled with a strange object. His sister shouted, "Timothy, turn down your video game! The whole neighborhood can hear it."

"Ugh, fine," he muttered, lowering the volume. Videogames? This new generation is most intriguing.

By the afternoon, sunlight slanted through the windows, and the wind whistled in the trees. Timothy's name was now known to me. When a knock came at the door, he bounded down the stairs. "I got it!" He cried, opening to greet his friends. They ran outside to play, reminding me of Arthur—how he loved the yard, how I miss him still.

As they tossed a ball, one boy pointed toward me. "I just saw something move by the tree."

Timothy squinted. "Weird. I didn't see anything." Moments later, he shivered. "I just felt a breeze go through me." I vanished inside, leaving them curious.

Upstairs, I tapped lightly against the wall near his sister's room.

"Timothy, is that you?" She called. Silence.

I tapped it again. "This isn't funny."

On the third knock, she opened her door, finding no one. She hurried downstairs.

"Mom, did you hear that noise upstairs?"

Her mother shook her head. "No, dear. This house is old—it creaks."

Serena rolled her eyes. "That doesn't help."

Now I know her name: Serena. I longed to show myself. By the restroom hung a tall mirror. I slipped inside its glass, waiting. When she returned, frustration etched her face. She leaned closer, and I let my reflection bloom.

"What the—?" She gasped, stepping back. She leaned in again, and I drew nearer.

"There's a girl in the mirror!" Serena shrieked, fleeing to her room and slamming the door.

Her brother and his friends crashed back inside, Timothy rushing to his parents to explain what he had felt.