We pulled up the driveway to our new house, but it definitely was not my new home. The very sight of it made me cringe. I don’t know what was worse when we walked in. Between the squeaky and rotten floor boards or the fact that I had to cover my face just to keep from ingesting the millions of cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, and the reached fumes that somehow managed to sneak through the material of my shirt into my nose. Right before I opened the door to leave the nasty place I saw out of the side window an old vintage looking hat blow higher and higher tell it got caught on a tree limb  my window, I quickly ran out to grab it from the old willow it hung on.
“It will sure need some work, but what do you think?” Did my mom really just ask me that? I know she’s still struggling with letting dad go, but after the divorce was finalized everything has gone down-hill from there. Making a wise decision, I just told her what she wanted to hear.
“It’s great, but I still miss the old house.” You couldn’t blame me. All my friends lived there, and I just tried out and made the school basketball team. Plus my dad kept the house in Boston, and now that I moved all the way down to some small town in Oklahoma I probably won't get many visits with my dad considering the distance of the two places. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but I just need someone other than her to talk to once in awhile.
“Could you give me a hand with this box Alan?” my mom asked when I was trying to carry my own into the house.
“Sure, just give me a sec!” When I finally got that inside, I headed back out to bring in the other. Who knew a cardboard box holding a few magazines would be that heavy? When I got up the porch, luckily without tripping or dropping anything, I set it down hoping it wouldn’t fall through the decomposing wood posts supporting almost all of the gables’ weight. Moss traveled up the siding of the house, lining and filling in the crevices where the white chipping paint was worn down enough to the point that it left a hole-like mark.
“Hey Alan, come get your bags out of the car so I can go grab a few groceries before it gets dark!”
“Okay, coming mom!” I ran down the steps to the car, almost slipping and falling into a rain puddle. While glancing down I could see my reflection. My light brown hair looked darker without the shimmering sun to highlight it up, and I could barely see the green circles lining my grey-ish eyes.
“Hurry up, the sun is starting to go down.”
“Sorry I’m coming.”
Grabbing a few bags, only being able to carry a little I scampered back up the steps like a mouse does when it smells the fresh cheese or crumbs lying on the tiled floor with no one around to be sensed. “I’ll be back for the other ones in just a minute,” I yelled, “I couldn’t carry them all at once.”
Before heading back I rummaged through them all trying to find my phone.
“Hey mom, wheres my phone?” Not like I needed it, I’d probably get no bars here anyway.
“I don’t know, they might be in the attic in the boxes that we set towards the back, but come say bye I am about to head to town.”
“Okay!” anything to keep me from going up there, I don't know why that attic creeped me out, and I was soon to find out why it did.
“Bye mom,” I eagerly said waiting for her to loosen her embrace on me, “love you.”
“Bye, love you too. Don’t get into to much trouble while I’m gone!” She said with a big smile on her freckled face-making me wonder if she knew I could be that kind of kid, and that I could do bad things once in awhile. Pppffftt… who am I kidding, I never did anything wrong. Some people at my old school wouldn’t talk to me because they thought I was too much of a, “Goodie Two-Shoes” or the, “Teacher’s pet”, but that was mostly the boys, the girls got past my personality! I guess I was kind of considered hot, to some people.
As I watched the car pull out from the front of the house remembering how much mom wanted a new car-or at least one that didn’t have the front bumper duct-taped to the rest of it the worn down vehicle. Once she circled around the curb I headed back inside to go find my cell-phone up in the highest floor of the house-the place where I later learned how much I despised it-the dusty old attic! Ooohhh, how much did I wish I went with my mother that night. Everything would be so much simpler, but by the time I heard the crying it was too late. There was no way I could catch up to her by now.
Most would have ran, but I convinced myself I wasn’t afraid… it was all in my head. Leaving my mind on that note, I no longer used it for the next thing I did. Me, a scaredy cat-like me-a coward-like me went up the creaking stairs. Following the sobs that tortured my ears. Making it feel as if it they were leaking the dark red liquid you know as blood, tracing that with a tense pressure that caused them to give off a sense of alarming swelling. My heart was beating out of my chest, but suddenly stopped when I swung the door open to see an innocent looking 7 year old boy crouching in the corner.
  Hesitant to ask him why he was crying I just watched for a moment until he noticed me.
“Hello.” His little whimper of a voice startled me, causing me to jump back while I was dazed.
“Ummm… hi, are you alright?” I sounded a little shocked, but I couldn’t help it. For goodness sake, there was a seven year old boy walking and weeping in my attic, I was a little wacked-out.
“I’m fine.” Sniffling, “I’ve just lost my hat that’s all.” Ahha! The hat I found in the willow branch when we first arrived.
“Was it red? Maybe a bit brown and a little tarnished?”
“Yep, that's the one. I’m sure of it!” Hastily, I waved my hand, leading the boy down the stairs to my room where I had kept it.
“So what's your name?” I questioned.
“Henry, what's your’s?”
“I’m Alan, but my friends sometimes call me Lenny. For fun I guess.” I reached into the drawer grasping the hat. When I was about to give it to Henry I noticed something strange. On the label that appeared under the flap of the hat revealed a name, but it wasn’t Henry. It looked like a child's penmanship, but it was to faded to make out all the letters. However, what I could see clearly spelt a name close to Weler-Wal… Walter! That was the best I could make out of them.
Curious as to why it didn’t say his name I asked, “Why does it say Walter?”
“Oh this was my dad's when he was a young lad like me. He gave it to me when I turned the age he was when he received it as a gift from his father.”
I probably would have believed him if weren’t for the cunning look that came into his cold, dark, benighted eyes. It was almost as if he smirked between glances.
Before I could question him, he was gone swiftly out the door.
In the next morning I got up. Not so eager to go to school, I laid in my bed for a little longer than I should have.
“Alan are you dressed yet? I have to go start the car, and then I can take you to school!” Ehhh… she sounded so excited, but who cares I was going to be late the first day, at my new school.
“Uhhh-almost!Just a second.”I grabbed my toothbrush barely having enough time to even brush them. Thankfully the gel in my hair from yesterday stayed firm enough for another day. Throwing on my backpack and shoes, before I heard the dying engine in our car probably give out for good.
“You're kidding me!” Mom yelled as she slammed her head against the wheel, triggering a loud honk. Running out the back door and up to her window I asked, “Is it going to start back up?”
“I don’t know, but not by me! I’ll hurry and call the repairman, but listen you might need to just ride the bus.” She must’ve saw the droop in my attitude that was showing up in my physical appearance when she selflessly remarked, “I know, I’m so sorry! It will probably be a few days until it's fixed.”
“It’s okay mom, it isn’t your fault we own a piece of junk-” she cut me off before I finished.
“Oh but it is! I have no money, and can’t even find a decent job, but I didn’t think I’d need one when your dad was with us. I thought he was loving and caring, boy was I wrong! I’m so sorry!”
“No mom, I get it.”
“You do?”
“No, not really,” we both laughed, her smile was so big it exposed her dimples on her tan and blushy-pink cheeks, “but it’s okay.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
“No problem.”
“You better head off to the bus stop.”
“Right, I’m on my way. Bye love you.”
“Love you too! Be safe.” With that, I flung out the door looking at the map of the route my mom had drawn on the back of my bagged lunch. There I was, only a few yards away from the house, glancing past the pines off the side of the rode, it happened, I-saw-Henry! He was ducking behind a bush, and at that moment I wasn’t thinking and I sprinted like a swift animal after it’s prey towards the grove. Not stopping until I saw him I yelled, “Hey where did you go last night?” But before I got an answer he was gone. The quick movement made a vast blur. Confused and tired was all it took to make me acknowledge my surroundings. Headstone, after headstone, after headstone. The trees began to to blow and whistle. All the leaves were rustling and dancing as if they didn’t care about my worried thoughts racing through my head. That's when I noticed Henry sitting behind me on a limestone grave. This wasn’t just any grave… it was his. The name Henry Wilson was engraven into the crumbling stone. The date of birth and death year was shown as 1905-1912. Next to the one he was sitting on there were two more similar headstones and appeared to have the same death date as Henry's. Information on their passing was on the bottom of the headstone, saying all three lives lost were cases of typhoid fever victims. So many emotions and wonderings were going through my head until someone-something reached a hand towards my face and grasped my neck into a tight grip.
“W-what do you want?” I remarked struggling to find breath.
“Something anybody would want back, my life.” Henry sarcastically implied.
“What?!” waiting for him to respond I blacked out, and didn’t remember a thing when I woke up. I opened my eyes, but I wasn’t wearing pajamas, I had on Henry’s hat. Finding myself rocking in the corner of the attic, my face was wet almost like I had been crying. I looked up towards the walls and saw many silhouettes of smaller figures about my height. While being scared and abnormally cold, a young girl, one of the figures lining the wall started talking to me.
“Welcome to the club! We were too young to die and now so are you.” Many other voices were bouncing into the air, laughter and shouting filled the room, but suddenly stopped when someone walked in the door. I turned to face whoever it was and a surge of hatred fell upon me once I saw who it was.
“Why, hello the friend!” Henry said as he swung his head back with mockful chuckling. Holding back chockful tears I  responded,
“How come you did this to me?” 
“It was unfair that I had died at the wrong time, so doing the same to others makes us feel better isn’t that right guys?” All the children started mumbling loudly and answering yes. They all began to encircle me until I flung up out of my covers realizing it was just a dream. I raced down the stairs and poured myself a bowl of cereal while thinking of how detailed that nightmare was. As soon as I finished eating  I grabbed my bag to leave out the door, being thankful it was just something my mind made up. Well that’s what I thought before I noticed the same hat that had been in my dream, fly by my house getting higher and higher and higher when suddenly it stopped getting caught on a willows branch.