All Morgan wanted to do was relax on the queen sized bed, in her grandfather’s old mansion. Only, she didn’t end up in the luxurious mansion, she remembered growing up. She landed herself in a run-down, dusty, un-cared for- sorry excuse for a mansion.

When her grandfather died a year ago he had left the mansion to her. She was the only family he had left. Her grandmother died after giving birth to her mom and her mother left when she was ten. Her father was never in the picture.

Like any normal teen Morgan went away to school, and ended up staying in the city rather than coming back home.

Now here she was, back for only a few days to get away, and the mansion had never been in worse shape.
Morgan lay on top of her sleeping bag, on the old worn out bed she had as a child. The canopy was split in two, and the mattress was covered with dust.

The moon shone through the window across the room, and danced along the wooden floor.

It wasn’t the heat or the dancing moonlight keeping her awake; it was the sound of footsteps from above. She knew she wasn’t going crazy.

Slowly she crawled out of bed, and grabbed the pink robe that dangled from the broken canapé. She threw it on, and headed for the attic.

The door to the attic was in her room. Trying to just be brave she opened the door. There were maybe fifteen to twenty stairs in front of her. Although all was quiet again, she needed to find out what the noises were.

Carefully she climbed the old wooden stairs. With each step the floor creaked. She took a breather at the top and searched around the dark attic. She felt around on the wall for a switch. Her hand rested on something, and it was not a light switch.

It felt almost like a hand resting against the wall. She was close to falling down the stairs in the process.

Taking in a deep breath she searched again, this time finding the switch.

The attic was nearly empty, aside from a few trunks, and cobwebs. There was no one up there. She went to turn around to head back down when a gust of wind nearly knocked her down. She caught her balance at the top of the stairs and turned back. The cobwebs hanging were now swinging like a breeze had disturbed them.

Her heart rate picked up. As a kid she had always been afraid of this attic. Now that she was twenty-five, it didn’t matter; it scared her just the same.

“If it isn’t Ms. Morgan,” a young male voice echoed through the attic.

Her eyes widened as she looked around the room, frozen in place.

“Who’s there?” she questioned. No answer.

“I said who-,” she didn’t have time to finish her question; she was pushed violently by a force unknown into the wall.

She tried to get free, but she felt something blocking her.

“Why would you leave me Morgan?” the voice questioned, right against her ear.

“Leave you? Who are you?” she questioned.

No, this isn’t happening it’s all a dream, she thought.

“You said you would come back, we had something,” she felt as if someone were breathing down her neck.

She tried quickly ducking under the invisible arm, but there was no luck. What-ever it was caught her.

“Please, don’t go again,” he said.

“You are not real,” she said out-loud, covering her eyes with her hands.

“I am plenty real,” he told her.

She could feel some kind of force prying her hands away from her face.

“Then why can’t I-,” it took a moment for her eyes to adjust, once her hands moved away.

It was like she had wakened from sleep, and was just opening her eyes. The outline of a boy appeared. Blue eyes suddenly appeared before her, followed by the rest of a physical shape.

“I-,” her stomach turned with a sickness that she had never felt before. She knew this figure that stood in front of her. She had looked into those eyes so many times as a kid, and a teen. Then it hit her, the last summer she was there.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” his voice was shaky, and he was on the verge of tears.

She never thought she could hurt someone as much as she hurt him. She never expected to get a full scholarship to NYU.

“I have to do this, I need to be someone, and not be my mother. I need to make something of myself you know that,” she told him.

He reached forward and pushed her dark brown hair back behind her ear, then ran his hands through his own short spiky blonde hair.

Even she was crying now, they had known each other their whole lives, and now she was leaving him behind.

He lived in the guest house on their property. His family was once their neighbors, but after he was born, his father lost his job. Her grandfather offered their guest house, and a landscaping job at the mansion. It worked out well because their mom’s were best friends.

There was never a day where they hadn’t been together. He was her glue when her mother left, and had kept her whole all her life.

“Devon,” her voice sounded weak.

She wasn’t sure if it was because he was a ghost, or the fact that she could have sworn his lips were just pressed against hers.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.07.2011

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