The Ghost Next Door

Maya turned quickly. It settled back against the wall.

She let out a small breath. “It’s only the wind.”

But the window was still shut.

Maya looked toward the lantern. If she could reach it, perhaps she could carry it downstairs and show her mother. The light might help them find out who had left it behind.

She moved along the wall, where the boards looked strongest. Her fingers brushed a dusty stack of picture frames. One slipped forward.

Maya caught it just before it fell.

A little silver bell inside the frame gave a soft ting.

The sound traveled through the attic.

From somewhere near the rafters came another sound.

“Hello?”

Maya held the frame close. “Hello?”

A pale boy floated beside the trunk.

He looked about Maya’s age, with brown hair that curled around his ears and a sweater with a neat row of buttons. His shoes hovered a few inches above the floor. Moonlight showed through the edges of his arms, like light through thin paper.

Maya stared.

The boy stared back.

“Oh,” he said. “You can see me.”

Maya glanced at the ladder. It was still there. The room was still safe. The curtains still swayed gently.

“Yes,” she said. “I can see you.”

The boy looked down at his floating shoes. “Most people can’t.”

“Are you a ghost?”

He nodded.

Maya had never met a ghost before. She had seen drawings of ghosts in books, with wide eyes and rattling chains. This ghost had no chains. He looked more like someone who had been waiting for a friend.

“My name is Oliver,” he said.

“I’m Maya.”

“I know. I heard your family moving in today.”

Maya remembered the boxes, the squeaky stairs, and her mother calling from downstairs. “I hope we weren’t too loud.”

Oliver shook his head. “It was nice hearing people.”

The words were quiet. He glanced at the lantern.

Maya followed his gaze. “Is that yours?”

Oliver moved closer to it, but stopped before touching the handle. “It was here when I was here.”

“When was that?”

“A long time ago.” Oliver gave a small shrug. “I don’t remember every part. I remember the attic. I remember the lantern. I remember waiting for someone to come up.”

Maya looked at the empty boxes and covered furniture. “Did someone leave you here?”

Oliver’s face grew soft and sad. “I think I got left out.”

The attic seemed bigger then. The rafters reached into the dim corners. A curtain brushed the floor with a whisper.

Maya stepped closer. “You don’t have to be left out now.”

Oliver looked at her. “You mean that?”

“Yes.” Maya pointed to the lantern. “Let’s take it downstairs. Then you can come too.”

Oliver smiled, but it faded when he reached for the lantern.

His fingers passed through the brass handle.

He tried again. The lantern trembled, though his hand could not hold it.

Maya hurried to the trunk. “I can carry it.”

She lifted the lantern. It was warmer than she expected. The flame brightened, and Oliver’s face glowed gold.

“Thank you,” he said.

Maya turned toward the ladder.

A curtain swept across the path.

She stepped back. The cloth felt cool against her cheek. Behind it, a pile of old quilts leaned against a beam. Maya pulled the curtain aside and took a careful step around the quilts.

The floor creaked again.

“I don’t like this part,” she admitted.

“You can go back,” Oliver said. “I don’t want you to get lost.”

“I’m not lost. I’m just learning where everything is.”

Maya held the lantern with both hands. Its light shook as she crossed the attic. Oliver floated beside her, pointing out the safe places.

“Step there,” he said. “That board is loose.”

Maya moved her foot.

“Now around the hat boxes.”

She turned sideways. One hat box wobbled and toppled. A cloud of dust puffed into the air.

Maya sneezed.

Oliver laughed. It was a small, surprised laugh, as if he had not expected to make the sound.

“You laughed,” Maya said.

“I did?”

“You did.”

Oliver’s smile stayed this time.

Together they reached the ladder. Maya placed the lantern on the floor and began to climb down. The first step held. The second step held.

Then the lantern flame flickered.

Maya looked up. Oliver stood at the attic opening, watching her.

“Come on,” she said. “There’s room beside me.”

Oliver drifted toward the ladder. His hand touched the top step.

The wood gave a tiny groan.

Oliver pulled back. “I can’t leave the attic.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve tried.” He looked at the lantern. “It only lights when I’m near it.”

Maya climbed back up. “Maybe we need to fix something.”

She set the lantern on the trunk. Oliver hovered beside it.

Maya checked the glass. It was cloudy with dust. She found a corner of a soft cloth beneath a box and wiped the lantern clean. The brass shone beneath the gray coating.

The flame grew tall.

Oliver’s eyes widened. “That helped.”

Maya smiled. “Maybe it just needed cleaning.”

She reached for the handle again. The lantern was still warm, but the flame began to shrink.

Oliver moved closer. The flame rose.

Maya lifted it.

The flame shrank.

She set it down.

The flame rose again.

Oliver’s shoulders drooped. “It wants to stay here.”

“Lanterns don’t want things,” Maya said, then paused. “Do they?”

Oliver gave a tiny smile. “This one might.”

Maya studied the room. The lantern had sat on the trunk for years. Its light touched the boxes, the quilts, and the old curtains. It made the attic feel less empty.

“You have been keeping it company,” she said.

Oliver looked at the lantern. “Or it has been keeping me company.”

Maya understood then. She had thought the problem was the attic. It was not only the dusty boards or the curtains that moved by themselves. Oliver had a place, but it did not feel like home. The lantern was the one thing that stayed with him.

“We don’t have to take it downstairs,” Maya said.

Oliver looked surprised. “We don’t?”

“We can make this place nicer. You can have a home here. A real one.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

Maya opened a wooden chest. Inside were soft blankets, a small rocking horse, and a box of colored pencils with no paper. She carried out a quilt and spread it near the round window. Oliver found an old cushion and floated it across the room. Maya placed the rocking horse beside the trunk.

Soon the corner looked warm instead of forgotten.

Maya found a small table under a sheet. She dusted it with the cloth and set the lantern on top. Oliver floated beside it, and the flame glowed steady.

“This is better,” he said.

“It needs one more thing.”

Maya took the picture frame she had saved from falling. It held a faded drawing of the house, with a garden and a pond behind it. She leaned it against the wall.

“There,” she said. “Now it looks like someone lives here.”

Oliver touched the edge of the frame. His fingers passed through the wood, but the frame gave a little shake.

“I would like that,” he said.

Maya sat on the quilt. “You can tell me about the house.”

Oliver settled beside her, though he did not quite touch the floor. He told her about the round window, the hidden space behind the chimney, and the way rain sounded on the roof. Maya told him about her old apartment, her favorite jam, and how she wanted to plant sunflowers in the garden.

For a while, the attic felt like a room meant for two friends.

Then the lantern fluttered.

The flame bent low.

Oliver reached for it. This time the brass handle lifted into his pale hands. For one bright moment, the lantern shone between them.

Maya smiled. “You’re holding it!”

Oliver smiled too.

Then the flame went out.

The attic became quiet. Moonlight filled the room, silver and soft. Oliver still held the lantern, but its glass was dark.

He looked at Maya. “It does that sometimes.”

Maya moved closer. “Does it always go dark?”

“Only when I think I might be happy.”

Maya did not know what to say. She could hear the gentle tick of the clock below and the whisper of the curtains.

So she reached for Oliver’s hand.

Her fingers met a cool, light feeling, like touching a cloud near an open window.

“We’ll find out why,” she said. “And until then, you won’t be alone.”

Oliver looked at their joined hands. His face brightened, even without the lantern.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Below them, the old house creaked in its sleep. Above them, the moon shone through the round window. The lantern stayed dark in Oliver’s hands, but the little attic no longer felt empty.

Maya had found a ghost, and Oliver had found a friend; sometimes a place begins to feel like home when someone chooses to stay with you.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 8,952 words in the full book.