The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. A sheer slip of white curtain that had been pushed to one side was flowing as though dancing in a breeze. It took a minute for my mind to register why that felt so wrong. As the clammy night air filled my lungs, I could feel the rhythm of my heart quicken. There was no breeze that night. The strong scent of pinesap was beginning to upset my empty stomach, and the strange stillness of the forest had my senses pressing to hear past the silence. “You don’t believe in ghosts,” I told myself.