The Child on the Stairs

My cousin slept in the old house last week. She woke from a deep sleep to see a small boy standing by her bed. He wore clothes from a much older time, like in old family photos. He looked at her and asked, ‘Where is my father?’

My cousin said she didn’t know. As soon as she spoke, the boy vanished. She has seen other visitors before, but a child felt different. It made her sad.

She also said the air feels heavy in the attic. This reminded me of two things. My little son cries when I take him up there to find boxes. He hides his face and holds on tightly.

And once, while I was reading downstairs, I heard the distinct sound of a ball bouncing above my head, in the empty rooms.