It was the creaking in the hall that woke me. The fan would have drowned a sound like that out. When I rolled over to look at the clock I found that it’s comforting red glow was absent. The house was filled with no light and no sound save for the footsteps retreating down the hall.

“A power outage.” I told myself, but the silence felt heavy and unnatural. The oppressive stillness made my mind go to a place I try to keep my life too busy to examine.

Another sound came then, one I had grown far to familiar with the past few months. The sound of weeping. My body climbed out of the toasty warm covers before my mind could object, and I reached for my robe. Sleep was out of the question now. I had to see. I had to know.

Unlike that one who had caused all the creaking, my slippered feet made no sound on the carpet as I padded down the hall. With each step I heard more clearly the racking sobs coming from the last door on the left. With each step I felt more dread to enter there, to disturb the weeping.

“This can’t go on.” I wanted to scream. “It has to end.” I wanted that to be true, prayed for it to be true.

The door was closed, the one inside wanting to be left alone. It was like an impenetrable wall instead of a door. Some force beyond myself sung in my ears to let the soul beyond continue to weep, to be left to it tumult of emotions, to let the suffering continue, but I couldn’t. The time had come to face the ghost.

I was gentle as I opened the portal to this grief struck place. As if my caution would make the intrusion less. In the rocking chair in the corner my husband sat clutching the puppy doll that Aaron had loved so much. The empty crib sat where it had since he left us, tearing my heart to pieces. I hadn’t been able to come in here since. Nick didn’t even look up when I entered.

I realized looking at the big man who I loved that I had left him alone with this; alone with the ghosts of our son, the ghosts of our memories, the ghosts of our hopes and dreams for the future. I had filled my days with trivia to keep the pain away. I worked and went out at night so I would not have to face our loss.

I rushed forward and fell on my knees at Nick’s feet, burying my face in his lap. The two of us crying out for our lost baby in our haunted house.

A writing prompt with 460 words.