Charles Morgan had the unfortunate luck to die at the age of 17 in 1938.

His mother thought he had a stroke. His father thought his appendix had burst, but only Charles, Charlie, to his friends, knew that it had been a brain aneurysm.

The man in the dark cloak with a pale face had told him as much before he asked if you wanted

to come with him. Charlie had declined, telling him he wanted to stay a little longer and

see what became of his parents. The man on the cowl only shrugged and told him not to stick around

too long, or he might never make it out. Charlie had given him the bird as he left, but now

he wished the man had told him how to leave. It turned out that it was a hell of a lot easier

to die, than it was to know what to do after you were dead.

Charlie had watched his parents age 20 years after his death, and both of them had finally sold the house at the ripe old age of 60, and gone on to whatever life they had after that.

Charlie couldn't follow them.

He had died in the house, and he was tied to the house.

But that was okay.

His parents had been a little boring, but the people who moved in after them had been fun.

His parents had moved out in 1960, and Charlie had had the house pretty much to himself since then.

In that time, 14 families had lived in the house where he died.

Some of them he scared.

Charlie turned out to be pretty good at scaring.

Some of them he just watched, wanting to know how other families were, but they did.

Those were fun. Charlie liked just watching people sometimes.

You got to learn a lot about people when you just sat around and watched.

Some of the families had kids that Charlie talked to.

The young ones were usually a little more in tune in the spirit world,

...