Haunted

The Mitt Romney poster stared out at them incongruously through the grime in the attic window as they looked up from their spot on the uneven sidewalk. Jon, Ryan, and Kisha had probably walked past the daunting house a million times in their young lives, going to and from the playground, to and from each others’ houses, and to and from school, but they hadn’t ever really looked at it until that day. Who’s to say what was different about that day, but for some reason they stopped on that strip of sidewalk and stared at the house that had seemed to grow while they were standing there. That’s when the challenge was extended.

“I wonder if anyone lives here,” Kisha whispered, as if someone was listening in.

“Of course they do,” said Jon, the self-styled smartest one of the group. “I’ve seen them at night, putting shades down and turning lights on.”

“I bet they’re albinos,” said Kisha, warming to the idea. “And they can’t come out in the day because it ruins their skin.”

“Don’t you mean vampires?” Ryan chimed in. He was always talking about vampires, or werewolves, or aliens as if they were real. Sometimes he could be really creepy.

“I mean albinos,” repeated Kisha, rolling her eyes at Jon. “People without pigment in their skin.”

“I know what an albino is,” said Ryan without even looking in her direction.

“They’re not albinos,” said Jon. “Or vampires, or anything out of the ordinary. I think they just like having night parties so they don’t get up until late.” He checked his Swatch watch and saw that it was just after 11 in the morning.

The three children stood there debating the merits of each perspective until they finally agreed on something that would solve the question once and for all. They would have to go in and see for themselves, or at least one of them would have to go in and get photo evidence to share with the other two. But how would they choose the one to go in? After carefully considering, the two boys voted for Kisha to go in that night. To prove she had actually done it, she had to take at least three photographs from inside the house, at least one of a person/vampire/etc. And she would have to bring them the Mitt Romney poster.

Then they kept walking to the playground, which was three blocks over. And pale eyes watched them from behind the poster in the attic of the house, eyes that twinkled in the sunlight, but that no one else could see. The figure slipped back into the shadows of the house once the children had gone, and waited for one to return.

Sam