Ghost Stories

Naruto was on TV. My eyes were glued to the screen; not even my mother coming in and out of the room as she folded laundry and put it away in the closet made me look up.

Finally, she sighed and plopped onto the bed next to me. "What's on TV? Anything fun?"

"Naruto," I said in a monotone voice, without stirring.

"Oh. Well." She reached over me to grab her Sudoku book off the nightstand and curled up behind me.

The characters began to walk somewhere, and at last my attention drifted. My gaze fell to the wall beside me, which looked strangely warped. I thought the rain had finally gotten into the house. Then, a hole began to form, right in the wallpaper. It was shaped like a butt.

My eyes widened with fear; something was coming through the hole. "Mom! Mom, help!" I screamed. "There's something -- "

But the instant she whirled around, Sudoku book flying, the form vanished. "What happened? Honey, Shyan, are you hurt?" Her hands frantically sought out any wounds on my arms, legs, and back.

I shrugged free. "Mom, it was a ghost." I was trying my best to keep my voice level now; yelling scared me.

I jumped as my father burst into the room. "Oh my God, what happened? Is she okay?" He, too, came to check me for bruises or blood.

Tears sprang to my eyes. "It was...I saw..."

"What, honey?" my mom said, shaking my shoulders gently.

I pushed her away. "I saw a ghost! It...it tried to sit down right next to me!" Every word came out broken and stuttering. I was terrified that they wouldn't believe me.

But a strange relief washed over my mother, and she seemed to relax. "Oh," she said, a slight smile forming on her lips. "It could have been your grandma, Mountain. She's protecting you from the demons and evil spirits sent to harm you." She enveloped me in a hug. "You should feel blessed, love. Not everyone has such loving spirits watching them."

The tears dancing in the corners of my eyes spilled down my face, and I hugged my mother back. The comforting smell of homemade treats from my grandma's kitchen, which I thought I'd never smell again after she died not long ago, seemed to fill the room. My mother's arms became my grandmother's soft, plump ones, and I knew I was safe in the embrace of my guardian angel.