Victor was walking past the front door when he was suddenly overwhelmed by the strange feeling that someone was standing behind it. Curiously, he cracked open the door ajar and peeked his head outside. To his surprise, a little girl with a bed sheet over her head was waiting idly on the porch. 

“Hello?” Victor called gently. 

Silently, the ghost turned and stared back at him. If she had eyes, Victor couldn’t see them through the dark black holes cut in the sheet. 

Victor felt a hand grasp his shoulder and turned to find Nicholas standing beside him. 

“Thank you for greeting our guest. She’s a little earlier than expected,” he explained. He knelt so that he was on the ghost’s level and gave her a gentle smile. “How may we help you?” 

“I was told you can help spirits like me,” the little ghost said, her voice nothing but a faint, shy whisper. “A human moved into my house recently. I would like you to make him leave…if you can.”

“Now that’s irony if I’ve ever heard it.” Nicholas laughed loudly. 

“Irony?” the ghost repeated. 

“You see, it’s typically humans that want to remove ghosts from the premises–not the other way around,” Nicholas explained. “But don’t fret. We can certainly help you solve this problem. Now, tell us all the details.”

“Well, you see, I live in a shack down in Still Water.” the ghost explained. “I have lived there for many years and it’s very important to me, but a few days ago, a man moved in. I’ve tried scaring him away, but he won’t leave no matter what I do.”

“Take us to your home, and we’ll have a chat with this man,” Nicholas said, tossing on his tophat and overcoat. 

As the three of them walked through the yard down the hill, he turned and asked, “How ungentlemanly of me…praytell, little miss, what is your name?” 

“Penelope.” the ghost squeaked. 

“How did you–?” Victor began to ask. 

Nicholas leaned over and whispered in his ear, “It’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died.”

Victor stopped his words short and swallowed down his embarrassment. 

Silently, Penelope led the way through the forest and into the town of Still Water. Victor gazed at the squat, brick buildings with gray windows, their chimneys bellowing out trails of smoke. The streets were cobbled and lined with brass lamp posts, horse-drawn carriages clattering down the way. 

“Won’t the townspeople recognize you?” Victor whispered behind his hand to Nicholas. 

“I cast a simple incantation on myself the second we stepped foot here,” Nicholas explained. “I made it so no one will be able to remember my face, no matter how hard they look.”

Eventually, they reached the outskirts of Still Water, where there was a small patch of trees with a run-down shack nestled inside. It was nothing but a concrete rectangle with a broken window and wooden door. Ivy had grown across the exterior while weeds and wildflowers had taken over the yard. A young man was on the roof of the shack reshingling with two nails poking out from the corner of his mouth. Every loud pound of his hammer made Penelope let out a fearful little squeak. 

“Can he see you?” Victor whispered to Penelope. 

“No, ghosts only appear to those they wish to be seen by,” Penelope explained, shaking her head. 

“Good Sir!” Nicholas called, waving at the young man on the roof. “How’s the weather from up there?”

 The young man took the nails out of his mouth and dropped them into the toolbox by his side. “Just gorgeous,” he said. 

“May we have a quick word?” Nicholas asked. 

“Of course,” the young man said politely, hopping down the ladder. He walked over to Nicholas and Victor, wiping the sweat from his brow with a dirty handkerchief. “The name’s Felix Hale. How can I help you, sirs, today?”

He offered out his hand, and Nicholas shook it with a slight nod. 

“We’re with the Historical Society. This home has recently caught our attention.” Nicholas explained. “We’d like to take a look around and ensure the sight’s original integrity is being preserved.”

Victor gave him a sideways glance, grimacing at Nicholas’s effortless ability to lie. 

“Yes, come this way,” Felix said. 

He pushed open the door and led them both inside. It was a cool, damp space with very little furniture. There was a table with just enough chairs for the three of them, a few empty cabinets, a gas stove, and a dead lightbulb hanging limply from the ceiling. In the corner was a beaten mat with a thin blanket where Victor assumed Felix had been sleeping the past few days. The roof was cracked in several places, letting in bent beams of sunlight. 

They all sat at the round wooden table by the broken window, where Felix offered them a kettle of tea. 

“This place is a little worse for wear, wouldn’t you say?” Nicholas asked. 

“Yes, but that’s just the fun of it,” Felix said happily. “It has good bones and a beautiful view; just needs a bit of love, is all.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do with this space?” Nicholas asked. 

“Bring it back to life,” Felix answered. “A new roof and a fresh coat of paint will be a good start. I’m adding a garden bed outside, and then I’ll save up some money to buy some new furniture.”

At this, Penelope seemed to raise her head in surprise. 

“What’s wrong?” Victor asked, whispering behind his hand. 

“I lived here. I died here. He can’t change it.” she answered. 

“I suppose…but if you’re going to haunt this spot, wouldn’t you rather it–?” he began to ask.

“Who are you talking to?” Felix interrupted. 

“Oh, I was just saying…” Victor cleared his throat. “...As members of the Historical Society, it is our duty to ensure places such as this retain their original character. We are hoping you do not wish to erase the history of this place.”

“I won’t change anything that doesn’t need to be,” Felix reassured. “I can tell the people who lived here before really loved this place…I want to respect that. But right now, it’s not livable. I hope you can understand.”

“This is my home; you can’t have it!” Penelope cried.

Like an earthquake, the table and chairs began to tremble violently. The kettle and teacups began to levitate off of the table, suspended in mid-air. 

“What’s happening?” Felix stuttered fearfully. 

“Leave!” Penelope yelled, thrusting her hand forward. 

The teacups floating through the air all shot past Felix’s head and shattered loudly against the wall behind him. The cabinets and door began to open and close violently, buckling at the hinges. 

“Penelope, stop,” Victor ordered, stepping in front of her. “You care about this place, but so does he. I don’t think he wants to ruin what made this place special to you.”

“But he–!” Penelope cried.

“Look what you’re doing! You’re destroying your home!” Victor said. 

Penelope stared at the broken pieces of porcelain scattered across the floor. Those were the remnants of the cups she’d drank from, the ones her mother would pour her milk in. For the first time since she’d died, Penelope truly saw how decrypted her home had become. 

“If this place really means so much to you, then wouldn’t you rather see it taken care of?” Victor said. 

“At this rate, there won’t be much of a home left.” Nicholas chimed in, still seated.

“Penelope, I know change can be terrifying, but it can be good as well. I’ve faced many hardships throughout my life, but it was those challenges that have made me who I am…that have led me to where I am.” Victor said, kneeling.  

Penelope released her spell on the house, lowering her hands. Although Victor couldn’t see her tears, he could hear her sobs. 

“B-But Mommy told me to wait here and look after the house while she was away…” Penelope cried. “I-I’m supposed to protect this place, she told me…”

Although Victor couldn't actually touch her, he placed a comforting hand where her shoulder would have been.

 “And you’ve done an amazing job,” he said. “You’ve done everything in your power to keep this place safe, haven’t you?” 

Penelope nodded. 

“Well, Mr. Hale wants to do the same thing,” Victor said.

“He wants to change it.” Penelope sniffed. 

“Tell me, do you like the passing of the seasons or when the night overtakes the morn?” Nicholas asked. “Well, none of those things would be possible without change.”

“I know how scary the unknown can be, but in my experience, the more you run from it, the worse that fear gets,” Victor explained. “How long have you been here, waiting alone?”

“It’s been…it’s been…” Penelope tried to think, her voice growing quieter. 

“A long time.” Victor finished for her, nodding. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a little company after all that time?”

Penelope nodded beneath the white sheet.

“W-What’s going on?” Felix asked, trembling in the corner. “Who are you talking to?”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr.Hale?” Nicholas asked. 

“Ghosts?” Felix repeated, taken aback. “My grandmother always told me they were real. I didn’t lean either way, but after what I’ve seen today, I’m inclined to think she was right.”

“In fact, she was. There is a ghost haunting this humble little shack you’ve stumbled upon.” Nicholas explained. “But I believe we’ve come to an agreement.”

“Agreement?” Felix asked, trying to understand. 

“As long as you treat this place with respect, I doubt you will have any more supernatural happenings,” Nicholas explained. “Oh, and if you’d like to leave a good impression, leave a slice of bread on the windowsill. Ghosts love that.”

“Okay, then. I will.” Felix said. 

“Let us know if he causes you any more trouble,” Nicholas added, tipping his hat down to Penelope. “Come now, Victor. The day is still early.” he sang, walking back through the door. 

“Will the two of them be alright?” Victor asked, whispering to Nicholas as they walked back down the path in the yard. 

“Take a look for yourself,” Nicholas said. 

Victor turned and saw that Felix was hunched over the raised garden bed by the door. He was planting some herbs but couldn’t find his trowel, scratching the top of his head. Victor watched as Penelope picked up the trowel from the porch step and offered it to Felix, who suddenly noticed that she was there.