Chestnut Street, number 19

My parents left a while ago, leaving me to take care of the home, I believe. They didn't say a word to me. They just packed their belongings and fled.

I'm guessing they rent it out on occasion. I've seen a lot of folks come and leave. Some were cool, while others were jerks. But, overall, it hasn't been all that horrible

I spend my nights in the attic. I recently transformed into a bedroom. It's a touch squished, but how much space does a guy like me actually require?

When I'm bored, I like to sit up there and think about some of the folks I've met when they've been here.

Consider Mr. Reynolds, a businessman. He maintained his calm throughout. Ladies guy in his late thirties. I kept this property looking nice, obviously for the ladies. He was continually talking to this Chinese-looking person on his "laptop," which I had no idea what it was.

Then he simply vanished one day. Shortly after that, someone arrived and removed his belongings. I'm curious as to what become of him.

Anyway, there were the "High Guys," as I like to refer to them for want of a better phrase. Two "stoner" guys who loved to hang around all day drinking beer, playing video games, and getting stoned. Who am I to pass judgment on other people? I usually say, "To each his own." They, on the other hand, completely destroyed this location. That's not an option for me.

I did everything I could to get them out of here. But they were so high that most of the time they assumed I was a hallucination and laughed it off. I stayed in my room when the authorities arrived to take them away. Who's laughing now?

Many families have moved in and out of the neighborhood. None of them lasted for long. Mom and Dad, with a few of children. At times, it's just Mom and the kids. At times, it's just Dad.

Aside from a few screaming battles and the noises of lovemaking on occasion. We all appeared to get along very well, and I particularly loved playing with the kids. They have a lot of fun playing hide and seek, duck duck goose, and other games like that. It made me feel alive. I genuinely miss those youngsters.

However, now... Susan has appeared. She arrived six months ago. Susan is incredible!!!!! She is not married and does not have any children. Oscar, her cat, is an exception. Oscar despises me...totally. He rises up, coils his back, and hisses at me every time I walk into the room, as if he's about to attack. I don't want to cause any problems, so I leave Oscar alone.

Susan arrives at work early every morning and does not leave until late at night, often after dark. What she does for a living is unknown to me. But I'm sure I'll figure it out sooner or later.

She spends the most of her time off watching Hallmark movies and eating ice cream.

I'm not sure why, but as beautiful as she is, she has the freedom to do anything she wants.

Susan is around 5 feet 4 inches tall, in her late twenties or early thirties, with lovely long brown hair, stunning green eyes, and an angelic voice. It also helps that she's fat in all the right places.

(With no offense intended to any of the females reading this.)

Susan may be one of the most gorgeous ladies I've ever seen, but her housekeeping abilities leave a lot to be desired. She's not a slob or anything. It's simply that she's not very good at cleaning up after herself.

So, on occasion, when she is at work, I will pick up cups and plates from around the house and place them in the sink. Pick up her garments; I'm not sure what sort of perfume she wears, but it sure smells delicious. Anyway, I'll throw her clothes in the hamper, sweep the floor, turn out the lights, and so on. Nothing huge, just the fundamentals.

It always makes me glad to watch her smile when she arrives home and discovers that the house has been cleaned up. She just stands there smiling and saying, "Thank you.

Susan, I'll do anything for you. Anything!!!

I'm so fascinated with Susan that I like to go stand outside her bedroom door at night and simply watch her sleep. She appears to be at ease. I'd give everything to lie next her, arms around her waist, and just embrace her. Perhaps someday.

I know it's only been a short time, but I think I'm in love with her. I'd want to express my feelings to her. I'd want to show her. I'm going to do it tonight when she comes home.

What exactly is it?

On the table, there is some sort of folder. Hamilton Paranormal Research Center (H-P-R-C). Case No. 137. Paranormal??

This is something I've never seen before. She must have forgotten about it when she went for work today.

I'll simply take a look.

That's a photo of Susan, by the way. Lead Investigator, what does it say underneath? Wow, that's significant.

Here's a letter that I can hardly read. I hereby provide permission to any member of the HPRC to live in my home for the express purpose of gathering evidence of paranormal activity and assisting in its elimination. Hmm??

I can't make out the signature.

However, there's that word again.

There's more to it. Is it a newspaper clipping? dated 1974? "Yesterday, the only son, Michael, age 17, of respected banker William Bernard and his wife, Emily, was found dead in an apparent accidental fall from the attic door to the corridor below," the obituary reads. A fractured neck was the cause of death. The event happened at their house at 19 Chestnut Street."

Michael Bernard, what happened? That's my name, and that's where I live. That's my parents. What? I'm no longer alive? I can't possibly be dead. I can see and feel. I'm able to touch. I recall the tumble. I recall getting up. My mother came up the stairs, weeping, since I had fallen.

Wait a minute, she wasn't staring at ME. She was staring at the lifeless me on the floor. I recall now.

The two men in suits approaching and removing my body

All of my family showed there a few days later, dressed in black, wailing, and complaining that I was too young to go. Where are you going? I didn't get it at the time, so I didn't go anyplace. Now I understand.

I'm a phantom.

That explains why Mr. Reynolds never responded when I spoke to him. He wasn't able to see me. He was deafeningly deafeningly deafeningly de

Why did the "stoners" think I was a hallucination was because they could see me in their altered state of mind, but felt they were imagining it.

Why would parents continually question their children, "Who are you talking to?" Then they shout at me to leave their children alone. They, too, couldn't see me.

Why her pet despises me

Why did my parents suddenly up and go one day, I felt they had abandoned me in the house? I haven't seen them in years, come to think of it

And why was Susan constantly smiling when I was cleaning up? It wasn't because of anything I did. She was on the lookout for proof of my existence. She wishes to be free of me. I don't want to go. It's nice here. This is MY residence. I'm not going down without a fight.

I adored her, I assisted her, and I even endured her cat. So, screw it all. So far, I've been a gentleman, but after this, I'm no longer Mr. Nice Guy.

She should be home soon, and I'll be waiting here to greet her when she walks through the door. It's game time!!

She wants evidence, therefore I'll provide it to her.