Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Describe the ghosts that live in this house: 
Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North – made available under Attribution 2.0 Generic
I look up, out the window. It’s a bright day, unlike yesterday. Yesterday it rained. Or was that the day before? I don’t know. I never know the date or time anymore. Everything just blends together.
A breeze flies through the air. I can’t feel it, of course, but I see it in the grass and leaves, as they toss and sway.
Something catches my attention from the field, and I near closer to the window. It’s a girl, and she’s laughing. I smile. I remember laughing. I haven’t in a long, long time. There’s nothing to laugh at. I used to laugh at old memories, flashbacks that would fly through my mind, but I’ve lost most of them, because I can’t remember back that far. To my surprise, the girl seems to be coming toward me. Well, the house, that is. She can’t see me, of course. Sometimes I forget that. I turn to keep track of the girl as she enters the tiny house. It’s then that I notice that she has a boy with her, as well. He has ahold of her hand, and she seems to be dragging him in. An odd object is raised along with her free arm as she lifts it. A bright light flashes on their smiling faces, but it doesn’t seem to bother them. I, however, cower in the corner. A pang goes through me as I watch the couple. I used to have someone like that, too, someone to laugh with and share jokes and explore uncovered ground, as they were. I couldn’t remember what that person looked like, or where they were now. I sigh, but freeze when I see the expressions of my visitors.
“Did you hear that?” the small girl whispers.
“Yeah, I did.” He looks around, confused. “But there’s no one here.”
“Yes I am, I’m right here,” I try to reply back. I can hear the words, but the only thing they seemed to hear was the scratching sound as a brick slid across the floor without anyone pushing it.
“What’s going on?” the girl cries, now terrified.
“Don’t be scared!” I attempt to comfort her. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want you to hear me!”
The door behind them slammed shut.
“I think we should get out of here,” the man mutters. His girlfriend nodded, and they quickly start to push on the door.
“No, wait! Don’t go!” I reach out my hand to them, hoping they turn back. “I’m sorry, please stay!” I trail after them, but as always, I was pushed back when I reached the open doorway, trapped inside the stupid little shack. Defeated, I finally give up as they quickly travel away, through the tall weed and far from me. I would’ve cried, if I could.
I don’t remember how I died. I don’t even remember waking up the day I did, much less closing my eyes for the last time. All I know is that for some reason, I’m stuck here in this little place, for what looks like will be forever, because I have no idea how to get out.
It's Lena Jackson 