Ghosts
It was a cold day in England and the seagulls soared with an endless cry over the ocean in the distance. The bench creaked lightly underneath his small feet and Arthur stood up before taking a small jump onto the ground. His homework sat on the old wooded desk across from his bed. Arthur sighed and picked up the papers. Third grade math. He rolled his eyes and picked up a pencil. Sitting down in the creaky chair, he began to work over the problems, step by step. The pencil glided over the paper and quickly covered the page in numbers. He scrawled his name on the top of the paper: Arthur Poe. This was all too trivial for him anyway. Arthur had always been very advanced, possibly enough to have skipped a grade, but he was very quiet. Teachers never took notice of him, and therefore, he never moved up.
