When we lived in the small town of Oakhaven, everyone said our home had a long history. My brother and I often felt we were not alone in the house. I would be reading in the front room and suddenly feel someone standing just behind me, watching the pages.
My brother told me he felt it, too. One afternoon, he woke from a nap and saw a man with light hair and green eyes sitting in the chair by the window. The man simply nodded at him before fading away.
Years later, after we had both moved away, I returned to help our father pack for his move. He was out for the evening, and I was sorting books in the quiet study. That familiar feeling returned, the sense of a quiet observer.
Then, I heard a soft sigh. I turned toward the hallway and saw the same man with the green eyes, standing calmly for a moment before he vanished into the stillness of the old house.