The Bouncing Ball of Beaumont House

My cousin, Mira, and I were in the attic of our grandmother’s old Victorian house, sorting through boxes of junk. The place always gave me the creeps, with its drafty corners and the constant smell of mothballs. We were supposed to be looking for old photo albums, but Mira had brought her tablet and was playing some horror game. I was half-watching, half-rummaging, when I noticed one of Grandma’s old rubber balls, a faded red one with a yellow star, sitting in a box near the window. Weirdly, it rolled a few inches, then stopped.

I froze. ‘Did you see that?’ I asked Mira. She looked up, annoyed. ‘See what? I’m trying to beat this level.’ The ball rolled again, this time more deliberately, as if it were being nudged by an invisible foot. Mira’s eyes widened. The attic had no floor vents, the window was sealed shut, and there was no breeze. I walked over, my heart pounding, and gave the ball a gentle push with my toe. It rolled a few feet, then stopped. I pushed it again, and this time it rolled back toward me, as if pushed back.

I laughed, a nervous giggle. ‘It’s like it’s playing with me.’ Mira backed away, her face pale. ‘Stop it, Elena. Let’s go downstairs.’ But I was fascinated. I crouched down and gave the ball a firm push. It rolled to the other side of the attic, then paused. Suddenly, a soft, high-pitched giggle echoed through the rafters, like a child’s laughter. A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I couldn’t stop. I pushed the ball again, and it rolled back, then stopped just short of my hand.

Mira was at the attic stairs, her voice trembling. ‘I’m going. You can stay with your ghost.’ She started down, but I called after her, ‘Just give me a minute. I’ll be right down.’ She paused, her hand on the railing, her face a mask of fear. ‘You’re crazy, Elena.’ But she didn’t leave. She stayed, watching from the top step as I played my strange game.

I pushed the ball toward an old trunk, and it rolled under it. I knelt down, peering into the darkness beneath. That’s when I saw them: a pair of small, white shoes, scuffed and worn, barely visible in the gloom. A child’s voice, clear and sweet, said, ‘My turn.’ The ball rolled out from under the trunk, straight toward me. I caught it, my hands trembling. The giggle came again, louder this time, and then a cold hand pressed against my back, shoving me forward. I stumbled, dropped the ball, and it rolled to Mira’s feet, stopping with a thud.

Mira screamed and kicked the ball, sending it bouncing down the stairs. It hit the bottom with a loud bang and rolled into the hallway below, out of sight. The giggle turned into a wail, a terrible, mournful cry that filled the attic. From the shadows behind the trunk, a small figure emerged. It was a girl, no older than seven, with pale, translucent skin and eyes that were solid black. She pointed a tiny finger at me and said, ‘You broke my game.’

I ran. I grabbed Mira’s hand and we stumbled down the stairs, the wail echoing behind us. When we reached the bottom, we looked back. The ball was sitting at the foot of the stairs, perfectly still. I picked it up, half expecting it to move, but it was just a ball. Mira was shaking. ‘We need to get out of here.’

We left the house, but as we drove away, I saw in the rearview mirror the attic window. A small, pale face was pressed against the glass, watching us. I threw the ball out the window, but it bounced on the road and rolled into a ditch. I didn’t look back.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the girl. Who was she? Why was she in the attic? I called my grandmother, who lived in a nursing home. When I asked about the house, she was silent for a long moment. ‘I told you never to go up there,’ she said, her voice weary. ‘That’s where my little sister, Clara, used to play. She died in a fire in that attic, back in 1955. We never found her favorite ball.’ I hung up, my blood running cold. On my nightstand, I saw a small red ball with a yellow star. It rolled off, bounced across the floor, and stopped at my feet. A tiny giggle filled my room. ‘Found it.’