I waited as my little brother frantically shoved the remaining crayons in the box, then sling his Power Rangers backpack over his shoulder. He trotted over to me, happily, with a big grin spread across his face, signaling that he had good news to share.

     "Charlie! Charlie! Guess what?" He exclaimed.

     "What, Mason?" This little guy made my horrible day slightly better. I put on a smile for him. "Tell me!"

     "Bradley got new light up shoes today, and he said his mom might let him give me the old ones!" He bounced up and down, ecstatically. "Also, Miss Martin said I did good on my math today!"

     "Wow, that's great, Mas!" I tickled his stomach. "Hey, I have a surprise for you."

     "Really?" He gasped. "What is it?"

"You'll see, we're almost there."

     We crossed the street and passed the nice houses near the school. When we reached the corner where we'd usually make a turn to go to our apartment, I continued going straight instead.

     Mason shrieked in excitement. "Oh my gosh, I know where we are going!"

     "You do?" I stopped at the other curb as the mellifluous music echoed towards our direction.

     "ICE-CREAM!" Mason and I both shouted, joyfully, in unison. The baby-blue truck pulled over next to us.

     "Hey, kids!" Joe, the man in the truck, shouted. "Can I get you some ice-cream?"

     Mason began to say something, but his voice faltered off and died. He stepped back and started acting shy, all of a sudden. "What can I get?" He asked me, politely.

     I rubbed the back of my head. I felt bad we couldn't afford much nowadays. Ever since our parents died, four months ago, we have had to live with our poor grandmother, who desperately needed medical attention. She could barely get off the couch without neither Mason's or my help. This left me to have the job of taking care of all three of us.

     "Anything you want." I said, hesitantly. I reached into my pocket and fingered the few one's I had. Hopefully, he didn't pick something I couldn't pay for.

     His eyes scanned the menu on the side of the truck. "Hmm... How about a mint-chocolate ice cream sandwich?" He looked at me for approval.

     $3.25, the picture read.

     "Sure." I said. I payed the man, and he gave Mason his treat.

     Mason stopped just before taking an enormous bite. "What about you?" He asked.

     "Oh, I'm good, this surprise was for you, silly."

     He stared at me for a few moments, and then shrugged. "Thanks!" He said to the ice-cream man. We both started towards the crosswalk, Mason with a messy mouthful of chocolate, mint, and vanilla.

     "Anytime, Mason!" The man called.

     All the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I froze.

     How did the ice-cream man know Mason's name?

     Mason peered both ways down the street, and began to walk, but noticed I wasn't moving.

     "Charles?" He turned back, a question written all over face.

     Play it cool, I told myself.

     I followed my six year-old brother down towards our cul-de-sac, and tried to stay calm.

     I mean, come on... We've seen this guy a million times around here in the summer, I'm sure he must've heard the name somehow from a conversation or something...

     I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding when the truck drove away, its happy—but now creepy—aura fading away into the distance, until all was silent.

     Everything was perfectly fine for a moment.

     But then that moment ended, and we began to approach the abandoned, horribly-damaged house next to our street.

     In fact, not only was it next to our street, but RIGHT BEHIND OUR HOUSE.

     And it doesn't stop there.

     My bedroom view just-so-happened to be this lovely attraction (that definitely doesn't give you nightmares at night.)

     When my grandmother was well, she would tell spooky stories of how the place came to be.

     "They say, the last residents were a young couple who couldn't have a baby." She had said, one evening, exaggerating here and there, trying to scare Mason and I.

     "After trying and trying, they decided they would begin fostering children to be eligible to adopt one of their own. First, they received an adorable little girl who was in love with horses. She plastered her walls with pictures and drawings of almost every breed she knew, until there was no more room. The whole neighborhood was sad when her real parents came to adopt her, as she brightened up everyone's day. Weeks later, they brought home a young, quiet boy who rarely spoke.

     The foster center he came from already didn't have much information on his back story, but the parents were fine with that—they just wanted a child. However, that very first night, they went to tuck him in. They hadn't had time beforehand to redecorate the living space, since they had just returned from a trip, out-of-state. But, when they put out the candle out that was lit on his nightstand... He reignited it as soon as the parents closed the door. He took that candle, and burned all of the little girl's previous artwork and toys to ashes. However, he dropped the candlestick on his bedding and tried to escape, but the door handle seemed to be stuck.

     The parents had accidentally locked the door, and the boy was trapped in the flames. They couldn't hear his cries and pleads for help, as they were downstairs watching a movie. The house burned down, along with the boy, parents, and everything else in it." She paused, and glanced back and forth between us both, her eyes wild like a madwoman.

     "Some believe that the spirits of the boy and his parents still lurk in that house, as when someone tried to simply observe the place's exterior, they heard someone's cries coming from inside. It hasn't been touched in over 10 years..." She would finish, and start telling another theory of what could've happened to the house.

     We avoided the sidewalk next to the house, as most did, and went to the other side of the street instead. This didn't prevent the awful, creepy sensation from arising within you. It makes you wonder...

     What happened to this house?

     Mason threw his trash away at the dumpster next to our complex, and we climbed the stairs up to our rugged ol' place.

     I unlocked the door, and saw Grandmother passed out on the couch, the TV revealing she'd been watching some soap opera, as usual.

     I helped Mason get started on his homework, and then went up to my room.

     I tossed my ripped, stained hoodie onto the foot of my bed and plopped down.

     I wish Grandmother wasn't sick...

     I shut my eyes for what felt like 5 minutes, when I was suddenly shaken awake by my grandmother herself.

     Weird...

     She looked pretty frazzled, like she'd just seen a ghost. Also... How did she even get up?

     "G-Grandma?" I sat up slowly, a state of confusion washing over me.

     She shook her head and whispered something I couldn't hear.

     "What?"  I leaned in closer.

     She kept on whispering and mumbling things to herself, and I tapped my ear. "I can't hear you, sorry Gran."

     Realization and horror hit me like a brick as she pointed a shaking finger towards my window.

     Bile crept up my throat as I hesitantly stood, and walked towards my window. I took a deep breath, tugged at the curtains, and saw what she was talking about.

     At the window of the upstairs room in the creepy house, a candle was lit in the sill, and a message in a deep, blackish-red dripped down the inner glass.

     Mason.