68 Byron Rowland

He had been following you around the house for three days. He knew you couldn't see or hear him since he was no longer alive. The chamber was pitch black, and the wind howled outside. He shoved random objects onto the wooden floor, hoping to catch your attention. The night howled like the sound of his scream, pushing another book onto the floor in an attempt to scare you away. Run! Just run! His mind screamed, his nerves filled with annoyance and anger. "You must leave!" He yelled, his urgent tone and weight in his voice indicated his dissatisfaction. He was afraid you'd end up like him. He needed you to leave the place before everything fell into the abyss. That was the moment when he started to realize it was useless. He was a ghost, and you heard nothing that came from him. However, his persistence to chase you away remained strong. "Run! Leave this place!" He needed, no, he must save you from his brother. He rushed toward you, urged to push or at least touch, nudging your shoulder to awaken you from the nightmare that might befall your guarded life, as life was in danger.