Insomnia and Other Short Stories

Fire

My parents never believed me when I told them our house was haunted. They thought I'd made up an imaginary friend to combat the loneliness that came with moving to a new town and leaving all of my friends behind.

After a while, I realized insisting there was a ghost in our house would get me nowhere. So I stopped talking about it altogether.

But she was there. Every night, I heard her.

High-pitched wails that terrified my young mind. Loud sobs that tore at my heart and moans of utter pain. They echoed throughout my room, only stopping when the sun began to rise.

One night, driven by curiosity born from four nights of hearing the ghost's agony, I lowered my blanket and peered around my dark room, searching for the source of the sounds.

"Hello?" I said, still clutching the blanket. Ready to yank it over my head at a moment's notice.

"No! No!" The scream reverberated around the room, piercing my ears.

I froze, the blanket over my nose. That was the first time I'd ever heard the voice speak.

Yanking the blanket back over my head, I trembled, whimpering. I thought, briefly, about going to my parents' room; of sleeping between them, where I was sure to be safe.

No, that wouldn't work. I'd learned days ago that I was the only one who could hear the ghost. My parents would just say I was too old to sleep with them.

I lowered the blanket again. My face was completely uncovered.

My breath came out in harsh pants, but loud sobs drowned them out.

"What's wrong?" I spoke to the room. "Are you okay?"

Just like that, the crying stopped.

I was left in silence.

The next night, the sky wept, just as the ghost did.

Raindrops gently hit my window, the pitter-patter almost soothing. Or it would have been, if the ghost's quiet crying hadn't matched it.

Within minutes, the gentle rain had turned into what sounded like a hailstorm, the thunder sounding like a falling sky. When the ghost screamed, lightning flashed, so bright it reached my eyes through my curtain and blanket.

"Stop!" The scream ripped itself from my throat. I sat up, bringing my knees to my chest as I covered my ears. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

Just like last night, my room fell silent. Only the sound of thunder, fainter now, reached my ears.

I dared to look up. My breath caught in my throat. There, in the corner of my bedroom, a light hovered. It was only obvious to someone who bothered to see what was often overlooked. The light was white, formless, but it was there.

A voice echoed from it: "Hello."

I hugged my knees, a scream building in my throat. "Pitter-patter," said the rain.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Hi."

Silence. Lightning lit up my room. For a second, the light took on a shape. It looked like a little girl.

The light faded, and so did the little girl.

My breath caught. Only the sound of the ghost girl's voice reminded me to breathe again.

"Hello." She sounded scared. "Can you hear me?"

I struggled not to dive back into the comfort of my blanket as the girl's voice floated from the light.