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.

Suddenly, he heard a small voice behind him.

It was light and lilting, like a child's. "Arthur?"

Arthur spun around in his chair, almost falling to the ground. His heart was pounding so hard he could hear it.

"Who's there?" Arthur said, barely more than a whisper.

No one answered. Everything was as it was. His bed was perfectly made, the clothes in the closet folded, the curtains on the window bench untouched. Nevertheless, Arthur slipped from the chair and peered under his bed and into all the other corners of the room. The coast was clear. He shook his head and sat back down at the desk. This had happened before. Arthur knew that it shouldn't scare him by now, but sometimes it still would catch him by surprise.

He could hear his mother downstairs making dinner for the family. It was just him and his parents, but Arthur had never been lonely. He finished up the math problems, tucking them away in his school bag. Leaning back in the chair, he ran his hands through his hair and figured that he should get cleaned up for supper. In front of his small mirror, Arthur combed back his light brown hair and pulled on a clean sweater. Becoming bored easily, as per usual, he grabbed a new comic book and jumped into the window seat. After a moment, he heard his mom call to him to help her in the kitchen.

Arthur hopped down, throwing the comic book on his bed. He had just reached the door when he heard another little voice.

"Where are you going?"

He was sure that he'd heard it this time. Arthur spun around, hoping to catch a glimpse, but saw nothing. He wasn't scared though since this one hadn't surprised him.

Arthur said quietly, "I'm going downstairs. I'll be back later."

With that, he closed his bedroom door and walked down the squeaky old steps. Out the window, he could see his dad in the garden. His mom was standing in the kitchen and waved to him to join her. Arthur loved to cook with her. He got down the supplies and pulled his step stool up to the counter. With her hand on his shoulder, she showed him what to do and how to make everything. One of the reasons he loved this time with her was because they were messy cooks. By the time the spaghetti had been put on plates, they were both covered in sauce and giggling. Arthur was glad she wasn't sick anymore.

Wiping his face of sauce, Arthur helped his mom set the table and prepare the plates. He set a third place for his father and went outside to get him. His dad was weeding out the garden and had been outside all day. He was out there a lot recently. Arthur called 'dinner' from the back door and went back inside to sit with his mom at the table. After a moment, his dad came inside and paused before entering the kitchen. He sat at the table and looked down at his food. When he looked up, there was deep concern in his eyes.

"Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur nodded and began to dig into his spaghetti. He grinned at his mom, who wasn't eating, but was laughing and smiling back at him. Arthur couldn't understand why his dad didn't share their excitement and only sat there slowly eating. After dinner, Arthur's mom told him to go finish his reading homework, and after his dad said that he'd do the dishes, Arthur went back upstairs to his room.

The door creaked open how it always did and Arthur lay on his bed. He wasn't in the mood to do his reading homework. It would only take him maybe thirty minutes to finish it and the teacher had given them a whole week. Instead, he spent his time flipping through the new comic that he had bought.

A soft voice, the girl's, came from beside him, "What are you reading?"

Arthur jumped a little bit but shifted and laid the book flat on the bed.

"It's a new comic series," he said, "I'll lay it here so you can see too."

He turned the colorful pages one by one, revealing new and twisting plots. As he closed the book and got into bed, he could smell the sea. Like salt and fish, the seagulls swirling above it. Arthur felt calm as the lights in the city dimmed and he drifted slowly to sleep.

The next morning, Arthur woke up drowsily and pulled open the curtains. The sky was grey and dark; it would possibly rain. He put on a pair of trousers and his gray sweater vest. Today was a school day. His bag was packed already, so Arthur slung it over a shoulder while brushing his teeth. The steps groaned and he sprinted down them and into the kitchen. He hesitated. Sitting at the table was his father and a man whom he'd never seen before.

His father looked tired. "Arthur, we need to talk."

That was five years ago. He sat in remembrance in his small room. It hadn't felt like his at first, but it did now. They had let him add some decorations and had even let him re-paint the walls. The desk plant was his personal favorite. It was hard to believe that it had been five years in the Harley Mental Hospital. His parents used to visit a lot at first. After they started giving him the pink pills, his mother stopped visiting. It was only occasionally his dad. His dad had visited earlier that morning, but it felt different, like they were friends from a long time ago. And out the window, as seagulls sang their melancholy song over a different English sky, Arthur Poe sat alone with his ghosts.