Benefits of being friends with the ghost who lives in my attic: I’m never lonely, they have many interesting stories, they help me with my history class and if I wasn’t friends with them it wouldn’t be a very unhappy household.

Faults of being friends with the ghost who lives in my attic: everyone thinks I’m crazy when I talk to them, they think the earth is flat, they make an awful racket when I leave them alone.

Making friends with the ghost in your attic is fun. Until you have to join them…

Making friends with the ghost in my attic brings me many benefits as well as faults.

Jenny is a thirteen years old who killed herself twenty years ago, right before my parents moved in, after being bullied. I was the first friend she ever had, even though it was too late to save her life. We could sometimes talk for hours on the Ouija bord and she made me feel a little less lonely too.

But one thing I noticed was that my nose kept bleeding anytime I played Ouija. I didn’t put much attention into it, it didn’t hurt and it was easy to treat, but I still wondered why this game could cause that.

Until one day, I woke up to meet my secret friend and I didn’t need the Ouija board to communicate with Jenny anymore. I could clearly see her and talk to her face to face. She was smiling.

“I thought it would be easier to be friends this way,” admitted Jenny. “Now you can be my only friend forever!”

“What do you mean by « forever »?”

She hold me in her arms and I realized that I was now part of her world.

Making friends with the ghost in your attic brings you many benefits as well as faults.

You finally have someone to talk to, a therapist phantom you can vent to at any time. But no one else can see them so you might as well be talking to yourself and well … you know what they say talking to yourself is the first sign of.

If only that ghost was here now so I didn’t have to spend so much time lost in my own thoughts.

Making friends with the ghost in your attic brings you many benefits as well as faults. The difficulty, as one might expect, is the making friends bit. You have to have a ghost who’s actually willing to be friends, and not one like Melba. She’s a spook with an attitude; and when I say attitude, I mean a full-blown disregard of the living.

My first encounter with our irascible wraith was a rather painful affair, I can tell you. Not for Melba, of course. Ghosts don’t feel pain, but they do have an enjoyment of inflicting it. In fact, ghosts have a very warped sense of humour when it comes to hurting humans.

I will never forget the echoing of her laughter, the sheer delirium of her giggling, as she watched me tumble back down through the hatchway that acted as an entrance to ‘her’ space. That first meeting should really have been the last, if I’d had any sense that is.

Making friends with the ghost in your attic brings you many benefits, as well as faults… When I first laid eyes on the ghost, my initial reaction wasn’t fear, but curiosity. His name was Ben, and he appeared to me in a soldiers uniform. He was older than me, but only just. Through him, I learned so much about the Second World War. Things school never taught us. The war became an interest of mine, and when I did projects at school I excelled. My grades were remarkable and I began to excel in school. My parents were thrilled, wondering if I’d grow up to be a historian. I went to see Ben everyday. He seemed thrilled to have the company, it was as if he was gaining back some of the life he lost due to the war. We were so a like, and got on like a house on fire!

The downside is that as our interactions become more frequent, I became obsessed. I had to see him everyday. He was my best friend. This is where my problems started. Without realising, I had pushed everyone away. My parents saw the change in my behaviour, and one night followed me up into the attic; they saw me talking to Ben. Unfortunately for me, they were unable to see him. From their perspective, I was taking to the air. It all went quite downhill for me from here. My parents forced me to the doctors and once they became involved things became difficult for me.

I desperately tried to return to the attic to speak to Ben, but my parents locked the door. One day I got so angry, I tried to kick the door down and things became... heated. This exchange landed me in hospital as an inpatient. After 28 days I was released back home, and I went straight to the attic to see Ben. To my dismay, he was nowhere to be seen. I refused to believe it was all in my head, but after more time passed without a glimpse of my friend, I began to experience major doubts. Was Ben really a figment of my imagination?

Weeks went by without Ben, and I began to pick up the pieces of my old life. Friends came back and things were steadily getting back to normal. Everyone was relived. I began to feel happy until one night, when I lay in bed attempting to sleep, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I tried to ignore it, but when I saw it again, I looked. Ben stood beside me, waving. My heart sank. Was I insane? I no longer knew…

Making friends with the ghost in your attic can bring you many benefits as well as thoughts. For one thing haunted houses come cheap, like really cheap. Or I wouldn’t be telling this story. But then of course when she gets pissed all the lights go out so you have to adjust for candle costs but have you seen the prices of lightbulbs these days? They have the nerve to call me insane. When it’s sleepily become $30 for a bulb when no one was looking. Anyhoo, I suppose you’d rather hear about that witch of a ghost then the rising cost of lightbulbs. I know I would. To be totally honest I’m not much of a storyteller but luckily this one is nothing but the truth and those are quite easy to remember. For stories are just another word for lies told for amusement. I remember the first time I had seen the ad. I had sat up skimming then classified finally to the thrifty nickel. Zs Mm

I thought you were mine And oh how I Idolised you Idolised your faults Pretended we just went Pretended that I hadn’t ripped myself apart For you And yet You’ll never truly be mine Cause your you And now I’m alone Through my own Doing Oh but surely it wasn’t just me Cause the things you said How could you be so cruel? Your face haunts me And now I’m bleeding You promised You’d catch me But when i fell I woke up looking up at the sky And you were nowhere to be found Oh darling You promised Rain dripping down your forehead Looked me in the eye And oh How I believed you And your sweet lies I’m so bitter Left bleeding out You were never really mine Your words Leaving scars Oh darling Why could you never be mine?

(This is a friend who ended as a ghost- not because she lacked a body or a life, but because she lacked compassion and hope)

Making friends with the ghost in your attic brings you many benefits as well as faults. For example, you always have someone to confide in without the fear of them spilling your secrets to someone else. After all, you’re the only one who sees them. The only problem is coming up with different excuses to go up to the attic everyday after school. It’s usually easy to convince my brother that the attic is quiet enough to focus on my homework, but he’ll occasionally check up on me to see what I’m doing.

I carry my backpack on one shoulder as I climb the stairs to the attic. I push open the attic hatch and swing the bag over to the floor.

Suddenly a voice not far away startled me to the point where I almost fall back down. “Hey there.” I manage to catch myself and look up. He stands there, arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

“Idiot,” I say and close the hatch. “What if I fell?”

“I’d laugh.” You could hear the grin in his voice.

I roll my eyes and lay my binder out open on the ground. If my brother does come, he won’t question it why I’m here.

“You know, you never do study,” my friend says as he pushes back from the wall and sits across from me. He’s a boy around my age, black hair and grey eyes, a plain sky blue T-shirt and snow light skin. Not scary, like in the movies, or evil, like in the books. He’s actually really caring. At least for me.

“Who needs this trash. Math isn’t my priority.”

“Then I’m guessing your priorities include finally making amends with your brother?”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t talk to me since our parents passed. The only time we get together is to pay the bills or when he checks up on me here, probably to make sure I’m not doing drugs in secret.”

“Clearly he has trust issues.”

I shrug. “We could rephrase it to post-trauma delusion. It makes the two of us.”

“I don’t really like your brother.”

I laugh. “You don’t like anyone.”

“That’s not true,” he says. “I like you.”

“Well, considering no one else actually knows you exist,” I say and shrug. Then, in a more serious tone, I say, “You’re not tied to this house. You can literally go through walls. Why don’t you ever leave?”

He chuckled. “Is that some rephrased way of saying you’re tired of my company?”

“No,” I say and tilt my head as if to think. “I mean maybe…”

He smiles at me and shakes his head. Then he looks down at my binder. “Open it.” I do. “It’s not that hard. You can finish it in fifteen minutes.”

“You know this stuff?”

“Give me a pencil - I’ll do it for you.” He grinned again. I couldn’t hold my smile either. We both knew he couldn’t touch anything.

I change my tone again. “I know you don’t like to talk about this,” I began. “But maybe today will be the day when you finally tell me how you became a ghost.”

His smirk drops almost instantly. I hate to see him this serious. He’s usually the funny one. “I would rather talk about you.”

I ignore his attempt to manoeuvre out of this question. “I don’t know who you were before. It kind of scares me.”

Something flashed in his eyes and I could see he was upset about my words. It was like he couldn’t believe I’d be afraid of him.

He sighed and held a pause before he spoke. “I got myself into this mess. A gang of people who…” he cleared his throat. “Weren’t nice. We were on this mission, and they decided to test me. I don’t really know what happened. All I know is something hit me and I died.”

I shook my head slowly, processing. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“You should go.” He averted his eyes.

I didn’t say anything. I’ve never seen him this sad before.

The ghost stayed in the attic as the girl left. He didn’t tell her the whole truth. That the mission was to trip a car, that in the car were her parents. That his death was a result of an attempted murder. He was afraid she would leave him for it. It was his little secret. He would keep lying forever if that’s what it took for her to stay.

“As a whole, humans are capable of greater good than evil”

Please don’t preach

“It’s true, you only hear about the bad because bad news travels faster”

That’s bullshit

“It’s not, I swear, you being here and listening to me is reason enough to stay human”

I don’t think you understand

“Enlighten me so I can carry it for eternity”

My brother isn’t capable of greater good

“But…”

Stop

“…sorry”

The actions I have taken lead me here so I must atone for this

“No, no you don’t get to do that”

Why?

“Because, pfft you used my logic against me”

I want to stay human so I can live with what I have done

“But”

And also I want to stay human so I can hold hope in my heart

The end