The phone rang just as I'd finished working my last math problem. Expecting it to be my aunt, or Rhys, I absently reached over the sofa for it. "Still alive."

"I'm glad to hear that, but it's not why I called," Rhys' mom said.

Embarrassed, I mumbled, "Sorry."

"I'm calling because dinner's ready and it's right now – so come on over."

Because there wasn't a reason not to, I said I'd be there and hung up. Although Rhys' parents weren't my own, they were the closest thing I had to what my life had been like only a short while ago – and a little normalcy wouldn't hurt.

I put my book aside and got up to grab my house key from where I kept it on the table nearest the front door and walked outside. It was almost nighttime, my favorite part of the day. I'd always loved the moment just before dusk's last thread broke and darkness fell. To me, it was magical.

I went to stand next to the tree in the front yard and gazed at the dimming skyline. Thick patches of clouds canvassed the sky, and I watched as they slowly revealed, and then gradually dulled, the moon in their unhurried way. Taken in by its beauty, I decided I'd return to Cemetery Raven after supper – and if I could bring myself to do it, I might even walk further back to where no one would see me, and I could 'talk' to my parents in an attempt to try and ease my pain, even though they wouldn't be there ... and maybe let my emotions take over and let myself cry.

I started toward Rhys' house and gasped ...

In a blink, my calm was shattered and what I thought I saw ... wasn't there!

But I didn't have time to figure it out because Rhys was at his doorway. "Ashe, come on. Dinner's almost ready and I'm hungry."

Forcing a smile, I said, "Yeah – sure." Wondering if I'd hallucinated again, I continued to Rhys' house. I glanced back to the sidewalk where I saw him, the guy from the previous night, the same one I'd run into, standing so close ... or where I thought I saw him ... and then – gone!

"What's wrong?" Rhys asked, coming out to look, which was pointless because he wouldn't see him. He'd only see the trees in the yards that lined both sides of the street, and the cars parked in front of the neighbors' houses ... and he'd think I was crazy, and maybe I was ... because no one was there!

"Nothing. I was just looking at – nothing." I climbed the porch steps and went inside, leaving it for him to follow and close the door.

The moment I walked into the house, my mood shifted and my jumpiness over my runaway imagination lessened. I'd forgotten ... Rhys' mom had decorated her house similar to the way my mom had, and seeing it again hit me hard. Doing my best to hide the affect it had on me, I kept my eyes straight ahead as I walked to the kitchen. Rhys' mom was at the center island, filling tall glasses with sweet tea. His dad, with a white apron tied around his waist, was tossing a salad while he danced and sang along with the music playing on the radio. Smiling broadly at me, he said, "Ashe, I hope you like salad – I made a mean one."

"Oh, yeah? Let's see." Before his father could stop him, Rhys walked over, grabbed a tomato slice, and popped it into his mouth. "Not mean enough. It needs more vinegar."

Waggling the mixing spoon at him, his father said, "You're lucky you didn't have to do this, Mr. Critic."

His mother sidled up and gave me a side hug. "I'm glad you came. You're skin and bones. When was the last time you had a good meal?"

"It's been awhile. Sometimes I go long periods without eating much."

"Well, it shows. Do you have any food next door?"

"Susan," Rhys' dad broke in.

She smiled sweetly. "I can't help it. I'm such a mom – I worry."

"Ashe, let's wait outside."

She released me and as I followed Rhys back to the front door, she walked over to where his father was, picked up a tomato wedge and tasted it. "He's right – it does need more vinegar."

Ignoring his parents' good-natured bickering, Rhys went to sit on the top porch step, but I stayed within the frame of the doorway and glanced around the outside. I didn't see the mysterious person, but I did plainly see how impossible it'd be for him to hide that fast – there was no place where he could. Clearly, I'd hallucinated – or, had I? It had seemed so real. He'd been only inches away from me, and I'd seen his face ... or I'd imagined I had. I wasn't even sure anymore. Still, I hoped the next time I fantasized about someone, it'd be somebody worthwhile; maybe a celebrity-crush I had, like Matthew Daddario or Niall Horan, not just some random stranger.

"So, the truth – how much do you hate the school already?" Rhys asked, breaking into my thoughts.

Trying to shake the uneasy feeling I had thinking about the stranger, I said, "It's different but I'll get used to it."

Quietly, and slowly, he said, "This is going to sound wrong, but ... sometimes I think you're lucky."

"How?"

"With your aunt gone so much, you have the freedom to come and go as you want. I wish I had that." He paused and then added, "But I guess it has its benefits, too."

Best friend, or not, I hated Rhys for saying that. While I was left wondering when, if ever, I'd find my footing in my new life, he was complaining his parents were still around. "Don't envy my situation. It's not that great."

"I didn't mean that. It's just ..." His dad called for us – and suddenly I dreaded going back inside. But without a good excuse to get out of it, one Rhys wouldn't call me out on later, I followed him back to the kitchen and we all sat down to eat.

Throughout dinner, Rhys and his father bantered back and forth while his mother talked to me about school and other mundane topics adults always dredged up for lack of interesting conversation. I did my best to not be unappreciative, but it was hard not to. I felt like an outsider. Watching Rhys and his parents, seeing their smiles ... I regretted my choice in going. It was a mocking reminder of what should be and what would never be again.

Finally, the meal ended. His mother said, "Why don't you two go outside while I prepare dessert – lemon meringue."

Rhys gave a broken smile and stood. I did too, only not just to go outside. I couldn't ... it was too much, all of it! I didn't need, nor want, someone hovering over me, making sure I'd be okay. I was okay – once, and I would be again, but on my terms, without asking permission, or talking to anyone about it! I followed him outside ... continued down the steps ... and kept walking. I reached into my pocket and removed the key.

"Ashe? Where are you going?"

"I don't feel good. Tell your parents ..." I stopped. I could've said to leave me alone, to not care ... but it would be wrong to do. If it was just Rhys, it'd be different, but with them there ... I was dying inside. I felt like everything was starting to unravel, and if it finally was, then I needed to be alone. I turned to him. "Tell them thanks, but I'm not feeling well."

"Ashe ...!"

Without more explanation, I jogged across the lawn and up the porch steps, slipped the key into the lock and went inside. Leaning against the door as it closed behind me, I stared into the living room. "I can't stand it."

Overtaken by the need to be away from my aunt's house, from Rhys' house, from being confined by four walls, I decided I'd do something outside of my comfort zone to direct my feelings of loss and anger at, to take them out on – and if my neck would be risked in doing it, I'd be the one to decide how it would happen, without the stifling 'caring and concern' from others! Suddenly not giving a damn anymore about my 'hallucinations', or rumored 'haunted' places, or even if ghosts existed at all, I decided I'd try Cemetery Raven, not just to ease my pain, but for real. And if I couldn't find what I was looking for in there, then I'd try someplace else – like Cortland Bridge, or maybe even the warehouse.

Feeling an uncommon urge to go someplace I wouldn't have a safe shelter to run to, to hide in, and to be totally exposed to whatever I'd find, or whatever found me, I hurriedly walked to the kitchen, and yanked open the first set of drawers just inside of it. I rummaged through until I found a flashlight. After checking to see if it worked, I shut it off and walked to the living room window facing Rhys' house.

No one was headed over to ask why I'd left so suddenly. In a rush to do what I felt I had to for my own sanity, I stepped outside, pulled the door closed, locked it, and then started down to the sidewalk.

"Hey! What happened?" Rhys called out from his porch.

Damn it!

He walked over. "Wherever you're going, I'll come with you. It'll save me from 'Death by lemon meringue.'"

Knowing if I stayed to argue against his coming with me, his parents would call for us and I'd be obligated to go back inside with him, and with no other option, I grudgingly accepted defeat. But the next time I wanted to go someplace alone, I'd need a fool-proof plan of escape. "Okay – let's go."

"Where?"

"Cortland Bridge."

With a slight pause, he said, "Why?"

"Because that's where I'm going."

"It's condemned, and even if it wasn't, there's something about that place that creeps me out."

"We'll be together. It won't be so scary that way."

"I didn't say I was scared – I said it was creepy."

"You do realize that one is heavily related to the other, don't you? Or, would you rather stick around for dessert?"

He sighed. "Fine. Let's get this over with. Maybe afterwards, you'll want to do normal things."

We walked to the end of our street and turned right to the dead end and the dirt road that lay beyond it. I turned on the flashlight, and as we walked through the desolate area, the only sound was our footsteps on the graveled path.

In the semi-quiet, I tried to imagine what we might find once we were there ... and then Rhys shattered it. "Speaking of normal things, there's a group of us getting together tomorrow morning at Bangles to study for a big test that's coming up. Do you want to come along?"

"'No' is the kindest way to put it. Besides, how do you have the cash? You don't have a job."

"The deal is – good grades, and occasional chores, without complaint or procrastination, equal money. It works for me."

We stopped at the place where the dirt road divided into three paths. The meadow with wild flowers, tall green grass, and the woods just beyond it was to our right. Straight ahead, in the distance, I could see the shadowy outline of the abandoned warehouse. But when I looked to my left, Rhys was already scrutinizing the weather-beaten, run-down wooden gazebo that separated Cemetery Raven from a small lake ... with the covered Cortland Bridge crossing it, and its end not easily seen among the shadows of distant trees.

Set back from the path, alone in the dark, and with the water lapping against its wooden beams, the bridge appeared imposing, menacing, and it had a 'feel' to it I couldn't name.

Daring myself not to give in and forfeit my plan, I started along the narrow, slightly foggy path that led to its entrance, with Rhys following unenthusiastically.

When I neared the opening, I slowed. Then, half-heartedly berating myself for allowing the atmosphere to bother me enough to make me want to call a halt and retreat back to my aunt's house, I squared my shoulders, picked up my speed ... and almost yelled out in surprise when I tripped over something hidden within the grass and landed hard against the outer rim of the bridge's framework.

"You should've brought an extra flashlight. The one you have isn't very useful," Rhys practically whispered. "Okay – we're here. Now what?"

Using the roughened wooden wall for support, I started in.

"Hey – no! The bridge is condemned. That means ..."

I turned to him. "I know what it means. I'm going in anyway." I turned back and shined my light into the pitch-black chamber as I stepped inside. I moved forward a few steps – until the boards beneath my feet creaked and popped, causing echoes and sending shivers up my spine.

I halted.

"Ashe – this was stupid. Get out of there." I looked back. Rhys was still outside of the bridge. "The boards might break ..."

"They're not breaking. They're only bowing a little," I said, bouncing up and down.

He scowled. "I'll wait here, but hurry up. We're too close to the marsh and snakes nest in places like this."

Refusing to be dissuaded, I kept my eyes locked onto the beam of the flashlight shining on the slight curve up ahead. I called out, and the sound of my own voice sent an involuntary shudder through me. "I heard this place is haunted. Is anyone here?"

"Say it louder. I don't think it was creepy enough with the way it barely echoed," Rhys grumbled. "And I said the warehouse was haunted, not Cortland Bridge."

Stepping lightly, I moved forward another couple steps and then stopped. Slightly louder, I called out, "I don't know if you've been asleep for a long time or if you're afraid of me and are hiding, but I have to know ... are – you – here?"

"Ghosts may not be here, but I'll bet snakes and alligators are. I say we leave and let them sleep, or we'll be the ones haunting the bridge!"

Undecided how I felt that nothing had happened, I went to join Rhys. "I guess it's not haunted."

"I told you that. Let's go. We've been here too long," he quietly complained.

"Rhys, we've only been here for a couple of minutes."

"Long enough for it to be too long. Happy now? You didn't find anything, no 'ghosts'," he said with a tone and waving his hands in the air, "or anything like that. Now you can go back to being normal."

With him leading the way, we left Cortland Bridge. Thinking that, in my grief, I'd tried too hard to make sense of my parents' death, and that it'd resulted in my mind playing tricks, like imagining Mr. Kennerly had spoken to me at his wake, or that I'd seen the guy in my front yard, I walked alongside Rhys back to the main path, feeling stupid and a little bit dejected.

Neither of us said anything until, as we neared the main path, he murmured my name.

I looked at him. But when he didn't say anything, I told myself I'd imagined that, too, and that maybe I needed to get some sleep.

He whispered it again.

I halted.

Rhys looked back at me and then stopped. "What are you doing?"

"Was that you?"

"Was that me, what?"

"I thought you said something."

"No, and don't start talking ghosts. I'm not in the mood." He turned to leave.

My skin prickled and I glanced over my shoulder at the bridge ...

Movement, at the entrance, almost hidden within the misty shadows! Covered in goose bumps and fighting the urge to go back for a second look, I continued to stare.

"Ashe?"

Rhys was looking at me questioningly.

Unsure if the mist had played a trick on my mind, or if something – or someone – had just been there, I went to join him and we continued home. But as we reached the opening of the dead end, I glanced back at the bridge again. It was quiet and appeared to be uninhabited – but I couldn't help thinking that Rhys had been wrong, and the warehouse wasn't haunted, but that Cortland Bridge was ... and that the mist hadn't been just a mist, but a ghost! Though it was scary to consider, and stupid to contemplate, I decided I'd return. Cortland Bridge needed further investigation, only without Rhys. I'd wanted something to cast aside caution and to dare myself to be reckless for, maybe even to do something dangerous – and in letting my curiosity override my brain and returning to see if I'd seen a ghost, or a person ... I'd found it.

Set in my decision, I said, "Why wait for tomorrow to go to Bangles? Let's go now."

Headed there, Rhys started in with his spiel of how dumb he'd been for going to the bridge with me, and how he hoped I'd gotten it out of my system. But I ignored him – because what he said was true and if I'd thought more about it, I might change my mind about returning later.

We reached Bangles Diner. The inside was well-lit, spacious, and filled with enough red pleather seats and barstools to comfortably seat many people. It was also nearly empty.

We sat in a nearby booth and an older waitress came over. Putting her pencil to the pad of paper she held, she eyed the flashlight. "Out for a stealing spree after you fuel up here?"

Rhys smiled. "Nope. We brought it along just in case we decided to go someplace dark that we're not supposed to be."

"And where is this place? On second thought, keep your secret. The last thing I want is to hear about it and think I'm somehow involved. What do you want to drink?"

"I'll have an orange soda."

She shifted her gaze to me. "And for you?"

"Coffee."

After she walked away, Rhys asked, "Coffee? Since when?"

I gazed out the window and thought about what happened as we'd left the bridge. Only I had heard my name softly called out and saw the movement at the entrance. But ghosts were only supposed to be speculative, and no one had ever solidly proven their existence, beyond their own flimsy claims. But, speculative or not, and despite the fact that my parents were buried a couple of hours away in my home town of Branton, I'd still try to reach out to them. By doing it, and if I found that ghosts actually did exist, it would alleviate two things for me: my doubts of it having been my imagination and hallucinations, and being forced to come to terms with having spoken to a dead Mr. Kennerly and seeing the ghostly guy in my aunt's front yard.

After that, I'd worry about what it all meant. Hallucinations equaled insanity due to grief. 'Actual' equaled ghosts. Neither possibility was good – even though the 'ghost' theory brinked on intriguing.

The waitress returned with our drinks. "Just holler if you need anything else."

After she left our booth, Rhys changed the subject and started to talk about school-related topics. I tuned him out. I was too busy thinking of Cortland Bridge and how far my curiosity over the prospect of ghosts being inside of it might take me.

We finished our drinks. Rhys went to pay the bill, and then we left for home, all the while doing his best to talk me into going to the study group the next morning. We parted company at his driveway, but the second he walked in and closed his front door, I turned and ran back to Cortland Bridge, stopping only when I'd reached it.

Being there alone, I wavered. Outwardly, nothing was changed from earlier – the quiet rippling of the water against the wooden support beams or the light fog – but I sensed something had. Unlike before, an intense, unnatural 'feel' had seemed to take over the place, one that was both foreboding, yet inviting.

My instincts told me to run away and not return, but I didn't listen. Instead, I talked myself into staying. Cautiously I entered Cortland Bridge and remained standing there.

Creepy quickly turned into frightening.

I'd just started in when the flooring popped. Chilled as echoes rippled through the unearthly quiet of the covered bridge, I prayed for the floorboards not to break and let me fall into the water below. To help squash my uneasiness, I whispered, "Dare beyond fear – you can do this. It's just an old ... abandoned bridge."

After a tense moment passed, and nothing had happened, I shifted my focus to peering into the inky darkness to try and see what I could. Even with the flashlight, vision was difficult. Taking small steps, I started to move further in. But when I'd reached the halfway point, nearly to the slight curve of the bridge, I felt the flooring unexpectedly bow and creak behind me.

Fearing I wasn't alone, and that it hadn't been a ghost at the entrance of the bridge as Rhys and I had left, but an actual person, and that he'd sneaked back inside the bridge after me, I whipped around and shined my flashlight ...

No one was there.

Upset that my imagination had run wild again, and being a coward and letting the place spook me because of how alone I was inside of it, I hesitated only a moment before I started again towards the bend, stopping only when I was within a few feet of it. I shined my light directly at it, wondering what to do next. The bend scared me, mainly because I couldn't see around it, but it was frightening to think what might lie beyond it, too. Knowing I couldn't just stand there forever, waiting, I decided to try and see what, or who, was there, despite being terrified someone would be. Bracing myself for what may happen, acknowledging that I might regret doing it, and then trying to forget I'd made the acknowledgment at all because leaving would be that much more appealing than to stay and risk more than I might be willing to ... I took a deep breath, and softly called out, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Echo ... echo ... echo ...

Hating the sound, I closed my eyes in a pathetic and false barrier of protection, but only for a moment before I opened them again and stared at the bend. Telling myself the best thing I could do, without calling an absolute halt to the whole idea of 'adventure', a stupid thing to have started, was to make myself go around the corner to see what was there so I'd finally know and then I could get on with my life, curiosity satisfied – but then something made a slight sound. Unsure what it could've been, or if I'd even heard it at all, I shined my flashlight around, trying to locate the source as I strained to listen on the chance I'd hear it again.

I did ... and stilled my flashlight. A voice – definitely. Someone was whispering. But I didn't know where it was coming from!

Poorly-timed thoughts of 'Sleepy Hollow' flooded my mind. As much as I doubted a headless horseman would come galloping through to take my head, every muscle tensed, and I scanned the bridge's interior while whoever was in there remained well hidden. A pretty amazing feat – because there was no place to hide ... unless ... it was a ghost!

If so, then Cortland Bridge was haunted ... and I was alone – with a spectre ...!

Behind me, the floor bowed and creaked again – I spun around and shined my light ...

Just like before; except for me, no one was there.

What had begun as a bold adventure had quickly turned intense. Questioning my logic for going back alone, I abandoned the idea of going in deeper and possibly finding there was no exit, only to end up trapped by my invisible companion, whoever, or whatever, it was. It was time to give up the pursuit of 'what if' and get the hell out!

The planking bowed and I heard an undecipherable noise. I quickly shut off the flashlight, and except for my increasingly heavy breathing, I kept very still as I waited to hear if it would happen again, unsure where it had come from. I couldn't even be sure which I hoped it wasn't more – a person, or an animal. Depending on the animal, both could be bad.

A long, agonizing moment passed – but no hint of a sound; no whispers, no breathing, no steps. Hoping it wouldn't be a mistake to do, I turned the flashlight on again.

Nothing.

Doubting I'd imagined it, but telling myself I had, I started to take a step in the direction of the entrance ... and saw the shadowy figure of a man move past it!

"Holy crap! Person ... or, ghost?" I whispered.

Almost positive I'd just discovered what had caused the sounds and the planking to bow, I shut off my flashlight again and crept over to the wall. Doing my best to try and blend in with the shadows, I waited to see if he was outside of the bridge, or worse ... inside, praying the whole time that whatever happened next, my heart wouldn't give out and let me die in there.

The footsteps started again.

Given that, in every ghost story I'd ever heard none of them suggested spirits were capable of heavy footfall, I decided the sounds couldn't be supernatural, but caused by a flesh and blood person. Hating the feeling of helplessness while whoever was there had the upper hand, I tightened my grip on the flashlight. Taking a chance that I'd get an answer, I called out softly, "Who's in here with me?"

The footsteps stopped.

I didn't know which was most terrible ... my voice, solitary in the deafening silence – or knowing I wasn't alone by the natural creaking and popping sounds of the bridge, and the gentle lapping of water from beneath. Dreading what I might see, and possibly equally brave as it was stupid because it would give away my exact location, I turned on the flashlight and shined it all around, trying to see where the person was.

Two mists, one more solid than the other, but neither fully manifested, were near the entrance. Unable to process it at first, I stared. Then, thinking that the flashlight might scare them away, I cupped my hand over it to allow only enough light to see by escape. As scary as it was, I knew I might not see them again, and I wanted to watch them, to hear their voices, see what they'd do ... and to know if they'd notice me.

Carefully, I inched forward ... and felt both disappointed and glad when the spectres stayed only a few seconds longer before they faded.

It was a relief to finally know what the source of the sounds was. A human might have caused physical harm, but the two ghosts didn't even notice I was there. Still, that it happened at all was astronomical ... and I didn't know how I felt about it. Ghosts – they were real! I called out softly, "I saw you – please come back. I just lost my parents and it'd mean everything to me to see you again."

The wait was in vain. Neither of them returned.

Starting toward the exit, I murmured, "I would've felt silly if it'd been a mouse."

From behind, just barely above a whisper, a man's voice replied, "Not a mouse."

My muscles tensed and I slowed. I told myself not to be afraid, that it had been my own echo, but my brain refused to accept it; it knew I was lying!

"Larger than a mouse," he said, slightly louder.

It took everything I had not to run. Instead, I gripped the flashlight tighter and held it out defensively before me as I gradually turned to face whoever had just spoken to me in the dark ... but he wasn't there. Despite the chills going up and down my spine, I willed myself not to move while I listened to every dreadful repetition of my voice within the hollow bridge as I called out, "Where are you?"

No reply.

"I asked ..." I stopped. My voice was shaking. "I asked if anyone was here, so – answer me!"

In my right ear, he murmured, "Demanding, aren't we?"

Jarred by his unexpected closeness, I stumbled back. Whipping the flashlight side to side in a frantic search for my unwanted company, I screamed the instant my foot touched something solid! Thinking it was him, I spun around ...

An upright, broken piece of wood!

No longer able to control my fear, I practically shouted, "Are you a ghost? I heard the bridge was haunted, and ..."

"It is," the scary, unseen 'he' interrupted smoothly. "I can show myself or remain cloaked. But if I'm not a ghost, what am I? Are you prepared?" I could hear his chilling laughter start slowly, and then, trail until the bridge had once again fallen eerily silent.

Desperate to know where he was to determine what my chances of escape were, my eyes strained against the pitch darkness to see him. I couldn't. As bad as that was, what scared me more was the uncertainty that, if I tried, I'd get out unharmed. Unwilling to wait to see what he'd do, I decided to attempt it and, if necessary, fight to escape. With the flashlight still out before me in a tight grasp, and hoping the person wouldn't guess my cowardice, I snarled, "I have a weapon. Leave me alone or I'll ..."

The shock of the batteries falling onto the wooden floor nearly did me in. But I didn't have time to think about what had caused it because muted, unintelligible whispers immediately began and gradually grew louder until their echo was all I could hear.

Sensing a presence behind me, I whirled around. There was a figure of a person ... and then, he was – gone!

Laughter. "Did you see me?"

Sounds of running started again – in front of me, behind me, even from the top of the covered bridge. I turned and twisted to look all around and see who it was.

No one was there.

Then the sound stopped as the echoes continued.

I regretted my decision to go alone in search of risk, an adventure to take my mind off of my grief for a while. I'd entered Cortland Bridge and gotten what I went looking for, and more. The bridge wasn't abandoned like everyone thought it was. It was haunted!

More scared than I'd ever been, I broke and ran for the entrance. Just as I reached it, someone emerged from the shadows and I skidded to a halt.

In a casual, mocking tone, he said, "Leaving so soon, pretty miss?"

Before I could react, something searing hot, and then bitter cold, pierced my gut – and I hadn't even seen him move! With my lips parted in a silent scream, I clutched my abdomen and sank to the floor as the excruciating pattern continued to repeat itself.

Clearly unaffected by the agony he'd caused me, he said, "To answer your unspoken question as to your draw to the yet undiscovered, Ashe, you have something most do not – an insatiable curiosity that controls you, instead of you controlling it. Unwise. But because of that, it will draw us to you ... and you to us."

Unnerved by his using my name, I looked up. His face was obscured by the darkness. As he turned and started to saunter away, he said over his shoulder ominously, "Don't resist the pain. It's supposed to hurt."

As if on cue, the intense heat and impossible cold began to increasingly alternate. Wracked with a pain I'd never before experienced, not just bodily, but to my soul, I balled into a fetal position and prayed I wasn't dying as I began to slip from consciousness.