“Henry! You okay there bud?” Mr. Greenberg asked as he ran past the house where a young boy was lying on the ground.
“Yes sir, Mr. Greenberg. I’m just looking at the girl in the window.”
“That one. Right there. Sitting on the bed in the attic,” Henry responded.
“There’s no one up there, kid. Only dust and broken glass. It’s just your imagination.” Mr. Greenberg gave Henry one last apprehensive look and jogged off towards his house around the corner. Typical of an adult, Henry thought. Discrediting a kid because he could see something that they couldn’t. He wanted to prove them wrong. Mr. Greenberg and all the rest of the people that thought he was crazy for watching the broken-down mustard-colored house. He pulled the aviator’s cap that he always wore lower on his head and tried to muster up the courage to walk to the front door. He knocked. No one answered. He knocked again. Nothing. Henry pushed the door and miraculously, it opened.
“Hello?” he called. “Hellooo?” No one responded, but a clatter came from the attic. Henry hastily, but nervously walked up the steps. When he poked his head through the trapdoor into the attic, he was welcomed by a girl with bushy, mousy brown hair pointing a sharp looking stick at him. She was wearing an old Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt, ripped jeans and bright red rain boots. The most striking thing about her though were her eyes. One was so blue a sapphire would turn green with envy. The other was so dark brown that it appeared as though the night sky had taken refuge. Her face was pale, with freckles sprinkled across her nose. Her transparent skin….wait, that’s not right. Transparent? “Ah! You’re see through!” Henry yelped.
“That’s because I’m dead, you pinhead!” the girl responded in a harsh British accent.
“WHAT?!” Henry went very pale. He looked like he had seen a ghost, which I guess he had. “You’re... you’re, uh….” Henry stuttered.
“Dead. D...E...A...D. Dead,” she responded bluntly.
“But, h-h-how can I see you?”
“I don’t know, mate. You’d be the first. Now, if you don’t mind. I’d prefer to be alone in my eternal torment.”
“But, I didn’t even get your name?”
“Emily, although it’s none of your business.”
“How did you die?” Henry fumbled with the zipper on his jacket.
“Didn’t I tell you to scat, you little maggot?”
“Please? Then I’ll leave.”
“Ugh. Fine. I do enjoy talking about myself. It was a dark and stormy night. The wind screamed in the darkness. It was my job to fetch water from the well and give it to the animals on my family’s farm. The only thing I remember was staring into the well and then suddenly I felt a tap and I was dead.” Henry remained silent. “What?” Emily asked.
“I think someone pushed you.”