It was a pleasant evening. The sky already pink with a tint of purple. As Andres walked down the crosswind lane, he felt himself standing in front of the house. The same house where he promised himself never to come again. It was as the house beckoned him towards it. Slowly but surely devouring him. Inch by inch. First his flesh, then his heart and then his soul.

And then he heard it. The screaming of ghosts. Ghost of Emma.  Or was it just the wind? The windows judging her. The door closed tightly, not welcoming her. She was his friend too. She was the reason why he got to know Yelena.

A new couple moved here just after couple of weeks of her death. He even visited them sometimes. But it was all the same. Emma's ghost reflected in the mirror. Sometimes even wearing the face of its residents. Sometimes standing in the doorway. Sometimes leading him to her room. Emma lying lifeless on the floor. Then also, her face was guileless. But she would be gone in the blink of an eye. Her lifeless body now replaced by pristine wooden floor. But something never changed. The 5th wooden plank still creaked beneath his pressure just like before. Before when they played around in that room, unaware of the future awaiting them. Every inch of that house reminded him of Emma. As if she never left. Well in true words Emma was with him. Not her literally but her ghost, standing beside him. Holding his weight. It was her, the wind. And the wind was screaming. Reminding him of the way Emma died. Her scream.

Emma was lively, innocent but she wasn'tdivine.