A Ghost Story

Chapter 1

It all started on May 15 on whatever year you prefer. It makes no difference really.

May is the time of year when finals are the only silhouette blocking the beautiful view of a hot summer spent on beaches or in bed. It is the time when you are sad because you're not going to see some of your friends for a while but you will hopefully see them anyways, since you're determined to actually have a good summer this year instead of sitting around in your bedroom and thinking about what a dull summer you're having. May is the time when you are saying bye to your friends that are seniors and you might never see them again until their funeral when you're all 80 and dying of cancer or creaking around on old legs through time borrowed from your array of medications (but that is a scary thought, so you just stick to being sad about your senior friends leaving). May is when the weather is often stormy and often sunny, making you slightly confused and often more thoughtful than you would normally be.

So through all of these things, May is the time of the year when you're so emotionally confused that anything could happen. Anything at all, really. And if something really significant happens, it might end up setting the stage for your whole summer, for better or for worse.

On May 15th, I was 16 years old and I was talking to my 17-year-old friend about nothing in particular. The way these numbers point, it's likely that I had taken 18 bites out of the meatball sandwich which my school cafeteria had coughed up that day. It was a day that had started out sunny.

"You know what really sucks?" My 17-year-old friend said. Her name was Eileen.

"What," I said, more so as an automatic, uninterested response than a real question.

"I have a lacrosse game today and there is a 74% chance of thunderstorms."

"Yes. That does suck. I will be happy if there are thunderstorms though."

"Well geez."

"I mean I like thunderstorms. I honestly would feel bad if your game got cancelled, but I would enjoy a thunderstorm."

"Okay. Well why do you like thunderstorms?" She said it with an edge of complaint.

"Because... I don't really know I just like them. I like the lightning, the thunder. I like the sound the rain makes when it pounds on my roof. I like the feeling of being inside my house while the rest of nature is in chaos. I just like everything about it."

"My dog gets really scared of them." Eileen said, but I was still thinking.

"I know, I like the feeling that the world is made of something more than just what we can see, and thunderstorms make me feel like there are giants fighting in the sky."

Eileen was quiet for a while. I took what was likely to be bite 19 of my meatball sandwich.

"Wow. You actually said something interesting for once. Nice job." I am bad at picking up sarcasm, but I think she was being sarcastic when she said that (in general I am bad at picking up on social cues).

"Uh, thanks."

"So do you believe in ghosts and stuff then?" She asked.

I nodded nonchalantly.

"Cool." She said.

It would have been hard to describe exactly my opinion on ghosts at that moment in time. In truth, paranormal things fascinated me like nothing else did. The fact that it wasn't something you could learn for certain in a textbook drew me in like chocolate. Ever since I was a kid, I loved chocolate and I also loved ghost stories. I also watched as many scary movies as my parents would let me watch. I loved Halloween. I read scary books. I admit that in junior high I was slightly obsessed with creepypasta, but it was a one sided relationship that ended when three of my very best stories were rejected by the creepypasta website. At that moment in time, though my obsession with creepy things had faded considerably since my childhood, it still lay deep within me like monsters will always live at the bottom of the ocean.

"You know," Eileen said. "I've got a friend who thinks her house is haunted."

For once she had actually said something interesting. "Sweet. Who is she?"

"She's one of my lacrosse friends. Her name is Caroline. She's out of your league though. I'll give you her number if you want."

I was taken aback by her forwardness. "I'm more insulted that you would assume I would just want to date her than I am that you said she's out of my league."

"Oh, I guess you're right."

"I'll take you up on that number though."

Eileen laughed. "So I was right then."

I sighed. "Gosh, what if I just want to have a polite, unflirtatious conversation with her regarding the hauntedness of her house, which I find very interesting."

"Yeah, right." Eileen said, giving me a slip of paper with Caroline's number written on it.

"You suck."