There's nothing to worry about. Ghosts aren't real.

They walked up the crumbling footpath, and Nate almost tripped over a loose bit of concrete. James saw him and laughed.

"Forget your glasses?" James asked, pretending to be helpful.

Nate didn't bother to respond. Instead, he just pushed his very-present glasses further up his nose, wondering yet again what they were doing here.

"Maybe we really shouldn't be doing this." Nate said for what must have been the tenth time that night.

"Look, if you don't want to go, you don't have to." James told him. "But me and Eric are going in."

"Yeah, right." Nate said. "If I don't, you'll make fun of me 'til I die."

"Oh, that's definitely happening either way." Eric said, clapping him on the back.

"Gee, thanks." Nate grumbled.

"Any time – what are friends for?" Eric replied cheerfully.

Still, as they approached the house, James and Eric stopped being quite so jovial. The wind picked up, and the wooden shutters on an upstairs window banged open and shut. Nate tried to smother a shiver.

The door was unlocked. Nate had expected nothing less in a condemned house, but James was clearly disappointed. He scoffed to himself and hung the hammer he'd brought through one of the belt loops on his jeans.

"Guess I won't be needing this." he mumbled to himself.

"Not unless you find any ghosts that need a beating. Eh?" Eric said, nudging Nate in the ribs. But neither Nate nor James found it particularly amusing.

"So clever." James mumbled.

"I thought so." Eric shrugged, undaunted.

The three boys stepped into the hall, their footsteps echoing off the half-rotted floorboards and exposed walls. The door slammed shut behind them, and Nate jumped about a foot in the air.

"Sorry." James murmured.

"Seriously?" Nate was already about to have a heart attack. Couldn't James be just a little more careful?

Someone snickered in the dark. Nate couldn't tell if it was James or Eric.

"Come on – I heard the room where it happened is upstairs." Despite the fact that there was no one else in the house, James still whispered.

No one answered.

Nate's heart raced even faster as he slowly followed his friends down the hallway and up the creaking stairs. As they climbed, Eric apparently decided it would be a good idea to tell them all yet again what had happened in this house.

"It was almost half a century ago." Eric started, being almost as quiet as James. "They say Old Man Acker had always been perfectly normal up until that fateful night. Then one day, without any warning–"

"Yeah, we know." Nate snapped. He was louder than he'd meant to be, but he couldn't take hearing that story yet again – especially when he was currently in that very house.

"Well, fine then." Eric grumbled, but he thankfully shut his mouth.

They made it up to the second floor. Nate squinted in the darkness, looking left and right as he tried to reassure himself that nothing was up here.

The boys walked down the creaking, narrow hall until they finally came to the spare room at the far end of the house – the room where it had happened. Nate tried not to think about how the length of the hall meant that in the event of an emergency, they couldn't be farther from the stairs.

There's nothing to worry about. Ghosts aren't real.

He'd just keep repeating that to himself until they were safely out of this cursed house.

James took a cautious step towards the bedroom door. He tried to make a show of how he wasn't scared, but Nate saw the way he wiped his palms on his jeans before he turned the handle. The door swung open with a deafening creak that seemed to reverberate off the walls. Nate looked around yet again. Part of him didn't want to be caught. Another part was almost begging for someone to come in and stop them.

The door opened, and James stepped in, followed by Eric. Not wanting to be left alone in the darkened hallway, Nate joined them.

The room was completely empty.

Well, it was completely empty except for a smallish box resting just under the window. It was made of wood and looked almost like a tiny wardrobe. There were two handles on the front to open the main compartment. On the bottom was a tiny drawer with its own handle. Nate took a few tentative steps towards it. He couldn't help it; something about the box just seemed to call to him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"No idea." James shrugged. He knelt down to get a better look. Eric joined him on the floor. Nate stayed where he was, in the middle of the room. In the back of his mind he knew that no matter how entrancing that box was, he shouldn't get any closer. And with his two best friends on the floor, it wasn't like he'd be the one to open it anyway.

"You coming?" James asked, turning his shoulders slightly but not taking his eyes off the box. He slowly reached towards one of the handles, not waiting for Nate to respond.

Nate just stood there, not moving. He heard whispers floating indistinguishably around the room. Or was it the wind picking up outside? He didn't know. What he did know was that this room was clearly colder than any other part of the house. His friends, however, didn't seem to notice.

Together, James and Eric each grabbed one of the tiny cabinet's upper handles. A sudden panic washed over Nate. He couldn't explain it, but the box seemed to be emanating a kind of evil. He wanted to stop his friends, but it was like swimming in molasses. He reached his hand up. It took so much effort, and it moved ever so slowly. It was like he had lead weights tied to his arm. He opened his mouth to tell them that this was a terrible idea. But before he could even get the first syllable out, they'd pulled the doors wide open.

A swirl of wind seemed to whoosh out of the box. It whipped around the room before seemingly filling Nate's head. His vision got cloudy, and he reached up with heavy hands and clumsy fingers to wipe his glasses. But when he took them off, he realized it wasn't his glasses but the room itself that had become foggy.

"What was that?" James asked, looking around. Then, he spotted Nate just standing there, fumbling to put his glasses back on. "Hey – are you ok?"

"What?" Nate managed. James sounded like he was underwater.

Then, just as fast as it came, the sensation subsided. The room was no longer cloudy and he didn't feel like he was moving at half-speed.

"Are you ok?" James asked again.

"Uh... yeah." Nate said. "Hey, did you guys see...?"

He trailed off, not knowing how to explain it. Besides, they'd probably just think he was crazy, and he wasn't really in the mood to be made fun of at the moment. There's nothing to worry about. Ghosts aren't real, he told himself.

Then, he looked up and nearly screamed.

Standing just behind James was what looked like a skeleton wrapped in shadows. Its hollow eyes seemed to be staring straight at Nate.

"Uh, guys? What's that?" Nate asked. He could hear the tension in his voice and his knees were starting to shake.

"Today's your lucky day." the shadow-wrapped skeleton said.

"Uh... what?" Nate asked numbly. This sure didn't feel like his lucky day.

Slowly, James turned around to see what Nate was staring at. The skeleton was mere inches from James's face. But James didn't scream – he didn't even react. After considering James for a minute, the skeleton nonchalantly turned away from him, back to Eric.

"I said, 'Today's your lucky day.'" it repeated.

"Oh? Why's that?" Nate asked, taking a step back. He didn't want to offend the monster or anything, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. And this seemed like the kind of thing that demanded an answer.

"Nate?" James asked, looking concerned.

But Nate ignored him; he had more immediate concerns at the moment. He watched as the figure took a deliberate step towards the center of the room. Nate knew without a doubt that the thing must be coming for Eric. After all, it was Eric's idea to come here. He'd opened the box. And if it didn't want James, there was only one other option as far as Nate could see.

"Because," the demon said. "Tonight, you've found me."

"Um... well..." Nate didn't really think that was lucky.

The shadowy skeleton glided closer to Eric. Nate took a step back, never breaking eye contact. He knew he should help his friend, but he didn't have the foggiest idea how.

"Nate?" James asked again. He sounded more urgent this time. "Who are you talking to?"

"Huh?" Nate turned to stare at James. What was he talking about? Didn't he see the skeleton that was standing in the room with them?

Nate watched the shadowy fingers stretch forward, reaching ever closer to his friend. They brushed against Eric's cheek as he stood there, staring at Nate and looking as confused as James. But instead of grabbing Eric like Nate had expected, the specter continued on, reaching past him. Its cold, vice-like fingers wrapped themselves around Nate's head instead.

"What?" Nate choked out. "No– I didn't– I wasn't–"

There was a blinding light, and pain shot through his head. The fog he'd found himself in earlier returned, stronger and more oppressive. He was vaguely aware of both his friends calling his name, but they sounded so far away, and he couldn't think to formulate a response.

Then, it stopped. Everything still seemed a little fuzzy, but the pain was gone.

"Hey, Nate – what happened?" Eric asked.

Nate turned to face his friend, but the movement felt weird – disjointed somehow. Eric was hovering by the door, looking like he was going to bolt at any second.

No idea. Did you guys see that ghost? Nate asked. Or, he tried to. But he couldn't get his mouth to respond. Instead, he found himself saying, "Nothing. I'm fine."

He sounded surprisingly confident. Nate didn't remember ever sounding that sure of anything before. Would his friends notice? Surely they could tell something was wrong.

"You sure? You looked pretty freaked out there." James said.

No. Something's very wrong, Nate tried again. But his mouth stayed shut. Then, it forced itself into a grin.

"Just expecting something more, I guess." Nate said. He found his head swiveling toward Eric. "Especially after all the stories you've been telling."

No – wait. That's not true, he thought. He was standing in the middle of a dark room in a clearly haunted house, and he didn't seem to have any control over his body. Was there something more he should have expected?

"You sure?" James asked.

No!

"Of course." Nate said.

What's going on? Why is this happening?

This time, he got an answer.

I told you, it's your lucky day.

It was a thunderous voice that echoed off the insides of his skull. He would have winced if he still had the ability. But to his horror, his face stayed a mask of tranquility. Casually, he felt his arm reach up and take his glasses off. He scratched a non-existent itch on his nose before putting the glasses in his pocket. Neither of his friends noticed.

"Good. Then let's get out of here." James said. Eric nodded.

The two left the room, and Nate found himself following along.

Guys? Wait – guys! We can't leave yet!

But no one paid any attention to Nate. Instead, they started down the hallway completely unaware that anything was wrong. Nate followed them, his legs moving down the stairs automatically. James and Eric kept looking around cautiously, completely unaware that the threat was creeping only inches behind them.

They left the house, and Nate found himself closing the door with a grim finality. As he turned towards his friends, James looked at him and grinned. "See? I told you." he said. "There's nothing to worry about. Ghosts aren't real."