Nia and Max did not want to enter the decrepit old mansion― it was just too creepy. All kids have an invisible creepy line― if it was too spooky, the kids would shake their heads, mourn the loss of their kite, ball, or whatever entered the creepy yard, and move on. Max was yards past his creepy line.

Nia was not.

“Come on, Max,” she pleaded. “It’s my lucky ball!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Nia turned away, arms akimbo. “Then I’m going alone.”

Max bit his lip. He didn’t want to go, but letting Nia go alone was like leaving a toddler with a nuclear warhead. Nia started to walk away.

“Wait.”

Max sighed. “I’m coming.”

She turned back, grinning victoriously. “I knew you couldn’t ignore my feminine wiles.”

Max reddened. “I’m only coming ‘cause I want to play soccer again.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I bet we could save all those other things the kids lost, since we’re here.”

Max turned. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because all we’re doing here is getting your ball. I’m not going on a mission to save everything.”

“Fine,” Nia pouted. “ My hair blows in my face anyway.” Indeed, her long crimson hair whipped around in the wind. Max, having short black hair, didn’t have the same problem, but he didn’t want to go further than the front yard.

Nia stopped. “Max, listen.”

Max stilled. There was a sort of moaning sound in the air, like a giant, wounded animal. While he was listening, Nia wandered off and stopped at the front door.

“Nia, wait―”

Nia ignored him and went in.

Mumbling swears that would make a sailor faint, Max followed.

It was a dark hallway. Nia was out of sight.

“Nia?”

He started to walk down the hallway. Though the layer of dust quieted his footsteps, they seemed quite loud in the silent house.

A high-pitched scream pierced his ears.

“Nia!”

Disregarding whatever might befall him, Max ran to where the scream had come from.

It was an old bedroom, with a gilded mirror, queen-sized bed, and lace curtains at the windows. Nia was cowering in the corner. Max edged closer.

“Nia?”

She merely whimpered and pointed to the mirror. Max looked to where she was pointing.

A young woman with a blond bob lay on the vanity. Her brown eyes were glassy. Her pink nightgown was old. A silver knife was embedded in her chest.

“I didn’t mean to kill her.”

Ma and Nia whirled around.

“It was an accident.” The speaker was a young boy, silver and transparent― a ghost.

“W-what do you mean?” Max asked.

The boy sighed. “I was throwing knives in this room―”

“You were throwing knives? In this room?”

“Our mother was never that concerned about us,” the boy said dismissively. “I was throwing knives, and she stepped in front of my and told me I shouldn’t be throwing knives and I stood up quickly and tripped. There was a knife in my hand.” the boy shook his head sadly. His face was streaked with tears. “I killed my own sister.”

Nia gasped.

“When my mother saw what I’d done, she was angry, very angry. She gave a good thrashing and locked me in my room. This room. But after that, I wouldn’t come out, not to eat, not to use the restroom. I died in this room staring at my sister’s body, for I hadn’t let them move it.” the boy looked up suddenly with a sickly smile.

“But I died with a knife in my hand.” he brandished it from his pocket and floated towards them.

“Nia,” Max whispered. “Run.” She leapt up over the bed and fled. The boy started after her, but Max ran through him and followed his friend, too late. The buy threw the knife, and only one child escaped the ghost house.