Sunday Short: The Girl Who Can't See Ghosts 2
- Faiz Faisal
- 3 days ago
- 4 min read
This is Part Two of The Girl Who Can't See Ghosts. Click here to read Part One.
Part Two – The Ghost Who Forgot How to Haunt
Oliver spent the next three days trying very hard not to help Evelyn.
It was exhausting.
On Monday morning, she reached for the sugar jar and knocked it clean off the counter.
Oliver caught it before it hit the floor.
He quietly slid it back into her waiting hand.
"...Thanks," Evelyn murmured instinctively.
Oliver immediately let go.
"I didn't do that."
The apartment remained silent.
"So..." Evelyn smiled to herself. "...luck again."
Oliver folded his arms.
Exactly.
Luck.
Nothing more.
The next day she nearly walked into an open cupboard door.
Oliver sighed dramatically.
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
He nudged it shut just before Evelyn reached it.
Thunk.
Her fingertips met the smooth wooden door instead of the sharp corner.
"Huh."
She tilted her head.
"I could've sworn I left that open."
Oliver looked away.
"You did."
By Wednesday, helping had become... routine.
He pushed dining chairs back under the table.
Straightened rugs before she tripped over them.
Caught her rolling oranges before they disappeared beneath the refrigerator.
Found her missing keys after she'd accidentally left them inside the bathroom.
He even closed the kitchen window when rain started pouring in while she was at work.
The house had never been so tidy.
Oliver hated how satisfying it felt.
Evelyn, on the other hand, had begun noticing a pattern.
Objects seemed to appear exactly where she needed them.
Things she misplaced somehow found their way back.
The apartment...
felt different.
Not haunted.
Lived in.
Like someone else quietly occupied the empty spaces.
Mrs. Alvarez noticed it too.
"You still haven't heard anything strange?"
Evelyn smiled as she accepted another slice of pie.
"I don't know..."
"I think..."
She hesitated.
"...I don't think the ghost likes seeing me struggle."
Mrs. Alvarez nearly dropped her teacup.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's silly."
"I know."
"But every time I lose something..."
"I find it."
"If I leave a cupboard open..."
"It closes."
"If I'm reaching for something..."
"It's suddenly right there."
Mrs. Alvarez stared.
"You think the ghost is..."
"...helping you?"
Evelyn laughed softly.
"When you say it out loud..."
"It sounds ridiculous."
Oliver, listening from the hallway, quietly muttered,
"It does."
Then frowned.
"...Wait."
That evening, Evelyn unpacked the very last box.
Inside was an old Bluetooth speaker.
She connected it to her phone.
Soft jazz filled the apartment.
Oliver hadn't heard music inside the house for decades.
He lingered in the hallway.
Then the kitchen.
Then closer.
Evelyn smiled.
"I had a feeling you'd like this one."
Oliver blinked.
"...Me?"
She tilted her head.
"I don't know why."
"It just feels like someone else is listening."
He stood perfectly still.
The song ended.
Neither of them moved.
Days became weeks.
Without realizing it, they developed routines.
Every morning, Oliver opened the curtains.
Not because Evelyn could see the sunlight.
But because she always smiled when the warmth reached her face.
Every evening, he moved her slippers beside the couch before she came home.
She always found them.
Always smiled.
Always whispered,
"Thank you."
He never answered.
One rainy afternoon, Evelyn came home carrying groceries.
Far too many groceries.
She struggled to unlock the front door while balancing three heavy bags.
One slipped.
Apples scattered across the porch.
"Oh no..."
She crouched immediately, feeling around the wet ground.
Oliver sighed.
"You really bought too many."
He knelt beside her.
Invisible hands gently rolled each apple toward her fingertips.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
She frowned.
"...That was quick."
The final apple rolled into her palm.
She laughed.
"I owe you one."
Oliver looked down.
"No."
"You don't."
That night, the electricity went out.
The entire neighborhood fell into darkness.
Evelyn barely noticed.
She lit a scented candle from memory and sat quietly on the couch.
Oliver wandered aimlessly around the living room.
"So..."
Evelyn suddenly said.
"...I know you're here."
Oliver froze.
She smiled.
"You don't have to keep pretending."
Silence.
"I don't mind."
Nothing.
"I've never been good at talking to empty rooms."
Oliver frowned.
"...You're literally doing it now."
Evelyn laughed.
"There you are."
Oliver's eyes widened.
"...You heard me?"
"No."
"I guessed."
"...Lucky guess?"
She nodded.
"The luckiest."
Oliver stared at her for a long moment.
Seventy-three years.
Not one person had ever invited him into a conversation.
Finally...
He cleared his throat.
"...I'm Oliver."
Evelyn's smile widened.
"I'm Evelyn."
A beat passed.
Then she asked,
"So..."
"...Are you really a ghost?"
Oliver looked around the old townhouse.
"I'd be very concerned if I wasn't."
She laughed.
A real laugh.
The kind that filled every corner of the old house.
Oliver found himself smiling too.
It felt...
Unfamiliar.
Comfortable.
Almost...
Home.
Long after Evelyn had gone to bed, Oliver wandered through the quiet apartment.
The floorboards no longer creaked as loudly.
The cold corners of the house didn't feel quite so cold.
Even the old wallpaper somehow looked brighter.
He frowned.
"What is happening to this place?"
Outside, Mrs. Alvarez glanced toward the townhouse from her kitchen window.
For the first time in decades...
The upstairs bedroom window glowed with a warm, golden light.
She smiled to herself.
"Well..."
"I'll be."
Maybe...
The house hadn't been haunted after all.
Maybe...
It had simply been lonely.
And for the first time in seventy-three years...
It finally had someone to come home to.
To Be Continued...
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