Chapter 6: The Ghost Comes Home

4.

Using my ghostly power, I found the gate of the Foster residence within a day.

The one who opened the door was Mr. Quinn, the steward. When he saw me, his face went ashen, as if he’d seen a ghost:

“Cla—”

A crack of thunder rattled the windowpanes. I stood on the porch in the rain, water streaming from my hair, looking up at the lantern over the door as if it could ward off what I’d become. Mr. Quinn’s hand trembled on the knob, his knuckles white. Somewhere behind him, the old grandfather clock ticked, marking the hour of my return.

He fumbled with the door, but I was already inside, rainwater pooling at my feet. This house would remember me.