I Think My Neighbor's Dead Son is Trying to Talk to Me?

The cold summer's air blasted itself at the nape of his neck, chilling him to the bone. It was a threat, or a command from above to stop, but Wes saw something in the old Fenton Works, and he had to know whose eyes he saw in the brief flashes of lighting.

It started last week, his father had gotten a news anchor job in a medium size city called Amity Park, which according to the aged and weathered sign, was a great place to live. Was it really that great if they had to both underline and italicize the word? To Wes the strangeness of the sign was a single for the dull dread that was to come from life in Amity Park.

It rained almost everyday in Amity Park, and when the sun decided to show itself the harsh winds kept everyone in jackets well past winter. The buildings were a mash up of white colonial paint with tall white columns, pointed Victorian roofs, and décor that looked like it belonged in the height of the eighties. All together it created a visual disaster of a town that seemed both lost in time and missing whatever soul it had once had. In short, Wes hated it here. He wanted to go back to Oklahoma where the sunset wasn't obstructed by something every day, and back to where his friends were.

Worst of all was the house next to them. It was a three story townhouse with a second metal house (It was a large metal circular structure with satellite dishes and antennas on top, and random metal poles connecting it to the house below) on top, and a dead neon sign on the side that read Fenton Works. The whole building was abandoned and dilapidated with half the windows broken and the other half bored up.

And Wes didn't believe in ghost, he thought the idea was stupid. The dead can't come back and anyone who told you otherwise was trying to sell you something. But one day at school he heard some of the other students talking.

"So, Kwan are you in?" Dash, school bully, high school football star, and future used car salesman said.

"No way dude! I'm not about to spend my free night looking for Fenton's Ghost," Kwan, the only one on the football team who had enough smarts go to college, said.

"Aw, are you scared? Is the Kwan-ster scared of an old house?"

"I'm not scared. We just don't know what those people were doing there. What if they left a science experiment out and it gives us all cancer?"

"You're being ridiculous man, they probably took everything when they left."

"You never know dude. I mean... their own son died because of what they were hiding in the basement. They probably didn't want to carry that reminder with them when they left."

"But doesn't that make you more curious to check it out? My Mom's co-worker's second cousin's boyfriend said she saw strange lights in the house last halloween. Maybe the Fenton kid is still there as a ghost!"

"Well, you and the girls can go deal with that. I will be home with fresh food, a warm blanket, and the new COD game."

Wes tuned the rest of their conversation out. Instead writing down what he had hearn in his notebook. He didn't know someone had died there. He assumed it was some business that lost all their money or something. But that would explain why every night as he looked out his window he swore he felt someone staring back.