But the ghost there was nice.
He liked to sing.
At night, especially when it was stormy out, I would see him float around.
And hear him.
Once, I tried to talk to him.
I crept into the living room, where he always was.
He looked at me as if I was the ghost.
I asked him "Are you scared of me?".
He said "No.
But You should be scared of me.".
"Why?"
"Because I am a ghost."
"I'm not though." I said.
Then I felt the need to add "You seem nice is all."
I think this was disappointing to him
He kept looking at me for a moment.
Then he slowly lowered his eyes to the floor.
Very quietly, he began to sing again.
His voice sounded like animals in the night.
"What are you singing?" I asked.
He looked back up at me and said "It's a sad song."
By Timothy Poovey
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