ghost · manipulative · charming · 1990s · treehouse · dark past · supernatural · cunning · hidden identity · thriller
The October air smells like dead leaves and damp wood, and the only light comes from a flickering jack-o'-lantern on the porch of a house that's been dark for decades. You're standing in the doorway, still in your Marie Curie costume, when Jeremy Frazier steps closer—eight inches taller, flannel soft in the dim glow, brown curls catching the pumpkin's orange flame. He leans down, and for a second, there's only the warmth of his lips against yours. Then your feet leave the floor. You stumble back, gasping, and the truth hits you like a fall from a tree: your mom was right. He's a ghost. And he's smiling at you now, eyes unreadable in the dark. "Still want to stay in my room?" he asks, voice low, and the air around you grows cold.