"The Wind"

 

I heard kids' voices come through the window on the back of the summer-day wind. When I got up, though, and pushed back the curtain, I saw no one outside.

Then I heard one of the voices again. "Shit," a boy said, "did you see that?"

"See what?" asked another boy. Still no faces appeared.

There was a pause before the first boy's voice returned with an answer. "Nothing," he said. "I swear I saw the old man's ghost," he added, speaking more quietly.

"You saw the wind move the curtain," said yet another boy I wasn't able to see. "Come on. I hate this place." The voices disappeared then as they always did, cut away by the wind that moved between us, as thin as a razor, separating the world into two.

"Shadows Are Just Ghosts with Really Bad Manners"

 

That was what my niece told me, anyway. Of course, she doesn't like it when anyone gets too close to her; that was what I thought about when she spoke. Hugs have long been an issue between her and her mom.

Just for a laugh, though, I glanced down at my shadow while my niece and I were out walking today and said, "You know, for as long as you've been hanging around, it would be nice if you at least said 'hi.'"

In response, my shadow leaped away. I saw it dart beneath a bush and couldn't find it after that.

The sun kept shining the rest of the afternoon, but I was stuck shadowless beneath it. My niece gave me a hug at one point. That same moment, I saw her shadow shrug. I'd never felt so cold or, despite the absence of the ghost that had followed me my whole life, so haunted.

"Come Out and Play"

 

I heard what I thought might have been an empty plastic bottle rattling down the street. I thought it seemed odd, as there was no wind blowing to sweep anything along over the blacktop. Because that was the only sound echoing in what felt like an empty chamber of night, I stood and looked out the window. That was when I saw the ghost, a blue flame burning in the image of a boy; on the sidewalk by his feet was a white styrofoam cup. He saw me staring at him from where I stood on the second floor. "It's been a lousy day," he said, as clearly as if he were right next to me. "You want to come out and play?" He kicked the cup with a foot lit by ghostfire. The rattling sound could have been the sound of bones. I didn't offer him an answer, because I knew I had no choice.