The Light in the Hallway

It began three summers past. My sister Lena and I were staying the night at our aunt’s house. To picture the place, you enter through the front door and face a split staircase. One flight goes up to the main living area, the other goes down to a den with a large sectional sofa. A television was mounted on the far wall.

We finally fell asleep on sleeping bags in the hallway near the den. I woke up some hours later, disturbed by a pale glow. I was certain I had switched the TV off before bed. I squinted into the dim room and saw a small boy standing very still near the screen. He wore simple, old-fashioned clothes. The most unsettling part was that I could vaguely see the wall through him.

I turned to shake my sister awake.