Chapter 5

Luke trekked up the hill behind the house to the big wraparound wooden deck. He climbed the stairs and sat on one of the oversized Adirondack chairs that looked out over the lake and hills, and woods beyond. The sun had started to dip just below the tips of the trees and the rays streamed between the branches like fingers combing through tangled black hair.
Luke patted the water out of his hair with his towel and shivered against the approaching evening chill. He replayed the day of his grandmother's funeral over in his head. He closed his eyes picturing himself at the table with his plate of food. 7-year-old Luke glanced out the big bay window that looked out onto the deck. A little girl stood in the grass bouncing a big red ball. She wore a long pink dress with white shoes. A pink ribbon held a curl of her reddish blonde hair. She looked up and her eyes met Luke's. She waved. Curious, little Luke snuck outside to the deck and quietly closed the door behind him. He tiptoed down the side of the grassy hill to where the little girl stood.

"Do you want to play catch?" she asked sweetly. Luke nodded. They tossed the ball back and forth in big arcs. The little girl tossed the ball into the air and a gust blew it off course, causing it to roll down the hill and onto the lake. The children walked down to try to fetch it. Little Luke cautiously stepped onto the pier and slowly walked to the edge, watching the ball drift out into the middle of the water.

"I don't think we'll get it now," he said apologetically. He looked around, but the girl was gone. He looked back to the lake. The ball had disappeared as well.

Luke stood confused for a few seconds, but reveled in the silence. It was the first time all day no one was crying or talking or trying to hug him. He sat down on the pier and tugged off his boots. The water was cold and stung his feet as it lapped at his rolled up jeans. He leaned forward and looked into the water...

Luke jumped up from the chair and bolted inside the house, his heart pounding. His cousin, brother, and the sisters sat at the big dining room table playing a board game. Everyone stopped and stared at Luke, dripping wet, and shaking with fear.

"Are you okay?" Aunt Sassy asked, setting down a container of onion dip and a bowl of potato chips. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Luke mumbled something about changing his clothes and shuffled up the stairs. He ran his hand up the tiled bathroom wall bumping the light switch on. Luke pulled off his wet shorts and dried his skin thoroughly with a fresh towel. He stepped into dry pants and buttoned them, then tugged a t-shirt over his head. A giggle floated past. He popped his head through the neck of the shirt and looked around the bathroom. *I'm seriously losing it* he thought, shaking his head. He glanced up into the medicine cabinet mirror on the wall to comb his hair. Luke peered at his reflection. His cheeks were a bit burnt from the sun. He ran his fingers over them and cringed at the slight sting. As he raised his comb, he caught a glimpse of something in motion behind him. He looked over his shoulder at the corner that contained nothing but a white wicker laundry hamper. He raised his arm again, and felt a light tap on his shoulder. This time he frantically twirled around. Of course, the room was empty. His heart pounded in his ears and his breath was fast and shallow. He tried to comb his hair as quickly as he could to get back downstairs.

Luke opened the medicine cabinet and placed his comb inside, then swing the door shut. There in the reflection, just inches behind him, stood the girl from his dream, the girl on the stairs.

The blood drained from Luke's face. He froze in terror and stared unblinking into the mirror. The girl reached out her arm toward Luke.

"Come and play, Luke," she whispered.

Luke shrieked and ran for the door, tumbling out into the bedroom. He flew down the stairs, stumbling and falling onto the hallway floor.

Luke pushed himself up onto his knees and breathed deeply.

"Get a hold of yourself," he whispered to himself. "It's your imagination." Fisher peeked around the corner.

"You okay there, buddy?" Luke nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I..." Luke fumbled for an explanation. "I tripped." He got up, his bones sore from the tumble.

“Well, come outside. We're going to toast marshmallows," Fisher said, "...and I'll tell you that story."