Haunted Help By Peri Gordon, 10

I stand outside the house the way I do every day when I take a walk. I think it’s just cruel that people like me have to live in tents, homeless, while a house stands uninhabited. They say it’s haunted, that no one in their right mind would go in there. Suddenly, I’m compelled to go in. I know better, but I ignore that. I guess I’m not in my right mind, I think. I walk to the door. It’s locked. I climb in through the window. And oh my goodness, I’m inside a house! A house! I’ve only been in a house once, for the town festival the mayor holds every decade. And no one even talked to me. I limp around, taking in the big windows, the comfortable parlor, the kitchen. Then I come to the stairs. I have never seen stairs before. Not indoors, anyway. The festival was restricted to one room; I would’ve found the stairs then if I could. But the mayor wouldn’t want poor people on his staircase, would he? It’s a marvel he invites us at all. I sigh and slowly make my way up the stairs, holding on tight to the banister. At the top, I relax my fingers and let go, then drift around upstairs. Everyone was wrong; there are no ghosts here. None at all, though if anyone found me they’d be convinced I was one. I must be pretty creepy, roaming around here, touching the sturdy wood of the walls, playing with the lights, even taking a bath. But now I know: The rumors are false. This is a perfectly normal home. It must have been abandoned long ago and never bought, never sold…and I doubt anyone with money plans to inhabit this “haunted” house anytime soon…it’s far too big for just two people, but, gazing at the town, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, it would be just big enough to be a home for the homeless…. I run back to my tent and tell Mother we’re moving in.