[Not Just Any Other] Ghost Story

Chapter 3

Sarah sat on her bed and held the red hoodie, trying her best not to bury her nose in it again to get one more whiff of Caleb's scent. It was the most peculiar thing. She'd only spoken to him for a few minutes and all he did was be borderline decent to her, but she couldn't get him out of her head for the rest of the day.

It was dumb. She'd never had a crush on a boy before and the last thing she needed right now was to become infatuated with someone who'd never feel the same way about her.

The high school quarterback. Huh. Yeah, right. Maybe if she'd had a similar meet-cute with the president of the history club or the editor of the school paper then this daydreaming would be worthwhile.

Angry with herself for the false hope, Sarah tossed the sweatshirt on the desk chair and with the same momentum, plopped backwards onto the bed. The hard mattress rocked under her and a fine layer of dust flew up.

She'd need to remember to throw the comforter in the wash tomorrow. It's not like she had much else on her schedule. Maybe occasionally going into the high school was a good idea. And if she picked the right subject, this fake capstone project might transfer over to her college coursework.

Then again, she hadn't even considered a topic, especially since Aunt Jane pulled the suggestion out of thin air. What in the world could she study that would tie a basic high school curriculum together into a comprehensive research project? Ugh. This was sounding worse by the second.

Closing her eyes, Sarah listened to her own even breathing as she lay on the bed. The light of the overhead fixture filtered through her closed lids and she could almost feel herself drift off to sleep.

In, out. In, out. Her lungs rhythmically expanded and contracted with each relaxing breath until she was on the edge of slumber. Nearly there, she could feel herself slip into sleep . . ..

Then a shadow blocked out the light.

Sarah opened her eyes and bolted upright, wincing at the glare from the bright bulb. Although she could have sworn that someone--or something--had physically come between her and the light fixture hanging from the ceiling, the room was unchanged.

The door was still closed, as were the curtains. Making sure that it wasn't a disturbance from outside, Sarah peeked through the window. But the darkness there was also unbroken: no headlights or any other explanations for what could have created a shadow within her second-story bedroom.

Pulling the curtains closed again, Sarah noticed her hand shake. As she watched her extended fingers dance on their own accord, something above her thumped. The sound was quick and muffled, but it was clear enough to draw her attention to the ceiling.

What was past that? She recalled the house's layout both from the exterior and what she'd explored over the last day and a half. Downstairs, there was a parlor with a couch and a small piano, the dining room contained a table with six chairs and a sideboard for dishes, while the kitchen connected to a pantry and a mudroom. On this level were three small bedrooms and the single bathroom. A phobia of both enclosed spaces and spiders kept her from even poking her nose down into the basement, which--according to her aunt--was just for the utilities and storage.

And with the second story having window dormers on the side of the mansard roof (Sarah finally let Aunt Jane give her whole presentation about the unique architectural features of the cottage that she was dying to explain on her arrival), her ceiling was basically at the top of the house and only the tower's attic extended further.

Thump. The noise rang out again, and Sarah held her breath. Focusing on the resulting silence, she both wished for the sound to repeat and also hoped it would not.