The Ghost in the Kitchen

It was a dark and stormy night when Lucy first met the ghost. She had been sent to the kitchen by her mother to fetch a snack before bed. As she tiptoed across the cold tile floor, a floorboard creaked loudly behind her. Lucy spun around, her heart pounding, to see a faint, glowing figure hovering in the air.

“Who… who are you?” Lucy stammered, trying not to scream.

“Do not be afraid, child,” the ghostly form replied in a gentle, whispery voice. “I am Emily, the spirit of this old house.”

Lucy looked at Emily, barely visible in the dim glow of the oven light. She seemed to be the form of a young woman in an old-fashioned dress.

“You’re…. a ghost?” Lucy’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “But I didn’t think ghosts were real!”

Emily laughed, a sound like rain pattering on the windows. “Oh, we’re very real, my dear. Though most people cannot see or hear us.”

Emboldened, Lucy took a step closer. “If you’re a ghost, how come I can see you?”

“Some children have a special connection to the spirits,” Emily said wistfully. “An openness that lets us exist on the same plane, at least for a little while.”

From that night on, Lucy found herself visited regularly by her new ghostly friend whenever she entered the kitchen. Emily would tell her stories of days gone by, back when she was a young girl growing up in that very house. And Lucy soon learned that being friends with a ghost could be awfully good company.

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