The dream came again.

Alex was a little boy, no more than five, standing in the cemetery at dusk. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the gravestones. His father knelt beside him, the spade in his hand catching the last golden rays of light. His face was calm but serious, his voice steady as he spoke.

“Our work is noble, Alex,” his father said, patting the freshly turned earth of a newly filled grave. “We help people—both the living and the dead. Never let anyone make you feel ashamed of that.”

Alex stared at his father, his small hand clutching his own tiny spade. “But why do people say it’s scary?”

His father smiled faintly, his eyes tired but warm. “Because they don’t understand. And what people don’t understand, they fear. But you, my boy, you’ll understand. You’ll carry this on, no matter what they say.”

The shadows grew longer, and the cemetery seemed to stretch endlessly around them. A chill ran down Alex’s spine as distant whispers floated on the wind. He turned, but his father was gone. The whispers grew louder, swirling like a storm, and he was suddenly alone in the vast graveyard.

Alex bolted awake, his heart pounding.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. He sat up, breathing heavily, trying to shake off the lingering echoes of the dream. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw it—a pale, translucent figure hovering above the foot of his bed.

His breath hitched, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had seen ghosts before. They frightened him less now, but the sudden appearances still sent his heart racing.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

The ghost, a man with hollow eyes and a sorrowful expression, didn’t respond. It simply stared at him, its presence heavy but not hostile.

Alex swallowed hard. “I’ll help you,” he said firmly, though his voice trembled. “I’ll help you pass on.”

The ghost lingered for a moment longer before fading into the air, leaving behind a faint chill. Alex let out a shaky breath. It wasn’t the first time a ghost had sought him out, and it wouldn’t be the last.

______

Morning came too soon. Alex trudged downstairs, the smell of coffee and eggs wafting through the house. His mother was in the kitchen, laughing at something her husband said. Her new husband.

“Good morning,” Alex said quietly as he entered.

She barely looked up. “Morning,” she said curtly, her attention already back on the man at the table.

Alex’s stepbrother, Evan, glanced at him with a smirk. “Sleep well, grave kid?”

Alex ignored him, grabbing a piece of toast. He had learned long ago that responding only gave Evan more ammunition. But the words still stung.

As he sat at the counter, nibbling his breakfast, he caught a glimpse of his mother leaning affectionately toward her husband. For a moment, Alex felt a pang of jealousy, sharp and unwelcome. He clenched his fists under the table, trying to push the feeling away.

He wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be.

But the hollow ache in his chest told him otherwise.

School was worse.

The whispers started as soon as Alex walked through the gates. “Gravekeeper kid.” “Creepy.” “Probably talk to dead people.”

Alex kept his head down, his bag slung over one shoulder, and made his way to class. He had long since stopped trying to defend himself. The rumors weren’t entirely wrong, after all.

The ghosts were everywhere. In the hallways, the classrooms, even the cafeteria. Most were quiet, watching from the corners with empty eyes. Others were more demanding, whispering his name or tugging at his sleeve.

“Alex,” one of them murmured, a girl in a tattered dress who looked no older than six. “Alex, please…”

He flinched, gripping his pencil tighter.

By lunchtime, the weight of the day was pressing on him. The jeers of his classmates, the indifference of his teachers, the constant presence of the ghosts—it was too much. He sat alone in the far corner of the cafeteria, his head resting on his arms.

“You’re doing fine.”

Alex lifted his head sharply. The ghost from his room stood across from him, its hollow eyes softer now, almost kind.

“I…” Alex hesitated, glancing around. No one else could see it, but he still felt self-conscious talking to thin air. “I don’t feel fine.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” the ghost said. Its voice was steady, almost comforting. “You’ll figure this out.”

Ghosts could not speak, not unless they were possessing a human at least. But sometimes, it was easy to imagine them speaking and Alex could even hear them speak.

One such situation was the one Alex was facing at the moment.

For the first time that day, Alex felt a flicker of relief. He wasn’t alone—not entirely.

The ghost gave him a faint, almost imperceptible nod before fading away again, leaving Alex to face the rest of the day.

As Alex walked home that afternoon, the whispers of the living and the dead swirled around him. But deep in his heart, his father’s words lingered, anchoring him.

“Our work is noble,” he whispered to himself, gripping the straps of his backpack tighter. “No matter what they say.”

Little did he know, the hardest part of his journey was just beginning.

But sometimes, the ending was harder to get to than to beginning and Alex felt himself dragging his feet behind himself to get to the end.

The graveyard was quiet in the late afternoon, bathed in golden light as the sun began its descent. Alex stood near an open grave with an empty coffin resting inside. The ghost hovered beside him, its faint outline flickering in the breeze.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“This is where you can rest,” Alex said softly, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He crouched by the grave and gestured to the open casket. “It’s empty. No one will disturb you here. You’ll be at peace.”

The ghost didn’t move. Instead, it loomed closer, its form vibrating with unease. Alex could feel its unrest like a weight pressing against his chest.

“You don’t want to rest, do you?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The ghost didn’t respond with words but tilted its head toward him, its hollow eyes filled with urgency.

Alex sighed, his small shoulders slumping. He’d been here before. Some ghosts couldn’t simply “move on” until they resolved something unfinished. And that meant letting them into his body.

“All right,” he muttered, already feeling the creeping fatigue of what was to come. “But no funny business, okay?”

The ghost moved closer, its form dissolving like mist as it seeped into Alex. A shiver ran down his spine, and his vision blurred for a moment. Then he wasn’t entirely himself anymore.

Alex’s legs carried him on an unfamiliar path, his small hands clenching and unclenching as if testing their strength. He felt the ghost’s presence keenly now—a mixture of longing and determination—guiding his body toward a small house at the edge of town.

The house was modest, its front yard bordered by a rickety wooden fence. On the porch sat a scruffy brown puppy, tied to a leash that barely allowed it to move. Its ears perked up as Alex approached, and within moments, it began to wag its tail furiously, barking with joy.

Alex felt a wave of warmth that wasn’t entirely his own. The ghost’s emotions swelled inside him—a mixture of joy and sorrow so powerful that Alex almost staggered.

The puppy strained against the leash, barking louder as Alex stepped closer. A couple appeared from around the corner, presumably walking the puppy. The man held the leash while the woman called out to the dog.

“Hey, calm down!” the man said, tugging at the leash.

But the puppy wasn’t listening. With one final lunge, it broke free, sprinting toward Alex.

Alex knelt instinctively as the dog jumped into his arms, licking his face with unrestrained enthusiasm. For a brief moment, Alex felt the ghost’s overwhelming happiness radiating through him—a bittersweet reunion that transcended life and death.

But the moment shattered when the couple rushed forward.

“Sorry about that!” the woman said, taking the puppy from Alex’s arms. “He’s usually well-behaved, but sometimes he just loses it.”

“It’s fine,” Alex started to say, but he froze when he noticed how the man held the puppy—too tightly, his grip digging into the dog’s fur.

A surge of anger coursed through Alex. It wasn’t his own; it was the ghost’s. The intensity of it made his skin prickle and his fists clench involuntarily.

The ghost was livid, its emotions boiling over into Alex’s body. He could feel it, ready to lash out at the couple. Alex’s breathing grew shallow as he fought to contain the spirit within him.

“Let it go,” he whispered under his breath, his voice trembling.

The man and woman exchanged confused glances.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked, her brow furrowing. “You look pale. Should we call someone?”

“I’m fine,” Alex said quickly, though his voice cracked. He forced himself to stand, every muscle trembling with the effort of keeping the ghost in check. “I just… need to go.”

Without waiting for a response, Alex turned and stumbled away, his legs barely obeying him as he put distance between himself and the couple. Behind him, the puppy whined, its little paws scrabbling against the air as it tried to break free again.

The ghost raged inside him, a storm of emotions that threatened to consume them both. Alex clenched his teeth, gripping the straps of his backpack so hard his knuckles turned white.

“I get it,” he hissed under his breath. “You’re angry. But hurting them won’t help.”

The ghost didn’t respond in words, but its anger ebbed slightly, replaced by a crushing sadness. Alex felt tears prick his own eyes, though he wasn’t sure if they were his or the ghost’s.

By the time Alex reached the cemetery again, the sun was dipping below the horizon. The ghost finally left his body, emerging like a wisp of smoke and hovering before him.

“You’re hurting,” Alex said softly, sitting on a nearby gravestone to catch his breath. “I can feel it. But you can’t stay angry forever. It’s not good for you—or for anyone else.”

The ghost floated silently, its translucent form flickering in the dim light.

“I’ll try to help you,” Alex continued. “I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

The ghost lingered a moment longer before disappearing into the night. Alex sighed, his body heavy with exhaustion. The weight of living two lives—his own and the ghosts’—was beginning to take its toll.

As he sat alone in the cemetery, surrounded by the quiet whispers of the dead, Alex wondered how much longer he could keep this up. But then his father’s voice echoed faintly in his mind:

“Our work is noble, Alex. Never forget that.”

Alex nodded to the empty air and whispered, “I won’t.” Then, he rose and began his walk home.

The morning sunlight was pale and cold as Alex trudged toward school, his bag slung over one shoulder. His mind was preoccupied with the ghost from yesterday, its lingering sadness still heavy in his chest. He barely noticed the figures ahead of him until they spoke.

“Excuse me! Boy!”

Alex looked up to see the same couple from yesterday, though they looked nothing like they had before. Their hair was disheveled, their clothes wrinkled as if they’d slept in them—if they’d slept at all. Dark circles shadowed their eyes, and they clutched each other’s hands tightly, their anxiety palpable.

“Uh… hi?” Alex said hesitantly.

The woman stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Have you seen a brown puppy? Ours ran away last night, and we… we can’t find him anywhere.”

Alex felt a pang in his chest, a sinking certainty settling in his gut.

“No,” he said cautiously, though the word tasted bitter on his tongue. “But… I think I might know where to look.”

The couple exchanged startled glances.

“You do?” the man asked, his tone a mix of hope and desperation.

Alex hesitated, the weight of his suspicion pressing down on him. He had no proof, just a feeling—but that feeling was strong enough to make him turn around and gesture for them to follow.

“Come with me,” he said simply.

The cemetery was eerily quiet as they arrived, the air thick with an unspoken tension. Alex led the couple through the familiar rows of gravestones, his heart pounding with every step.

And then he saw it.

The puppy lay motionless beside a grave, its small body curled up as if it had simply gone to sleep. Alex stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat.

“No,” the woman whispered, her voice breaking. She ran forward, dropping to her knees beside the puppy. “No, no, no!”

The man followed, his face pale as he crouched beside her. “What… what is this?” he stammered. “What’s this grave? Who does it belong to?”

Alex stayed where he was, his gaze fixed on the grave marker. He knew the answer, of course. This was the resting place of the ghost from yesterday—the puppy’s original owner. Somehow, even after death, the bond between them had endured.

“It belongs to someone important to the puppy,” Alex said quietly, his voice barely audible over the woman’s sobs.

The man turned to Alex, his eyes wide with confusion and grief. “What do you mean? Who was it?”

Alex hesitated. Part of him wanted to tell the truth, to explain everything about the ghost and its connection to the puppy. But he knew it wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t bring the puppy back or ease the couple’s pain.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alex said finally, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “What matters is that the puppy was happy here.”

The man opened his mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it. He looked down at the puppy, his expression crumpling as he pulled the woman into his arms.

Alex watched silently as the couple grieved, his heart heavy. He didn’t feel like a child in this moment. The weight of what he’d witnessed—and what he’d done—pressed on him, making him feel far older than his ten years.

His father’s words echoed in his mind: Sometimes even adults need help, Alex.

He didn’t know if what he’d done had truly helped, but at least the ghost had found peace. That thought brought him a small measure of comfort as he turned to leave, giving the couple their space.

As he walked away, the wind whispered through the graveyard, carrying with it a faint, familiar warmth.

The ghost’s presence was gone, but its gratitude lingered, a quiet reassurance that Alex was doing the right thing—even when it hurt.