The ghost sat on the end of the bed and smiled at me. My brother’s ghost had been haunting me for five years now. A few weeks after he died I had seen him standing in the yard looking up at my window. I had yelled his name and run taking the stairs three and four at a time. I had tripped and fell over the hall rug. Got up and, flung open the door nothing he was gone. I stood in the wet grass looking up and down the shadowy street. From time to time I would see him a shadow that move and then was gone. Once coming out of the late move I had seen him. He stood watching me from the upper level of the mall. Our eyes had met and he had smiled and then disappeared into the crowd. He followed me home if I was out to late. My mother had sent me to a grief therapy. When I told her about the ghost. My father had got a cold look and stood looking out into the night. The ghost did not go away but I learned not to tell anyone about him. and now here he was sitting on the end of the bed.
Tags: Blood
