It's there. I can't see it. I can't hear it but my heart beats as if to tell me it wants me and is creeping towards me. This old broken house is perfect for this horrible outcome. The fog glided over my feet making me cold. I suddenly feel a painful rush of air flow through my skin, chilling my bones. In but a few milliseconds I am also blind. With a shock, I felt my body move, despite my brain knowing I wasn't the chief of this operation.

I feel my hands slide across a leather case. It has me. I feel it controlling me and dragging me up into the air. If only I could witness this miracle but I would only see an opaque red thanks to the beast's burning fiery pupils. If people knew this beast did exist, the name Daniel James would go down in history! Unfortunately, I won't live to tell the tale. I quickly felt my body lift off the floor.

I feel the rush again. No way, it can't be possible! I can't move my muscles! I can see again, but I wish I couldn't. I am plummeting to my horrible demise. Oh, Town Square was once a beautiful place. This timeI'm going to hit the concrete! A feeling I knew quite well now, pierced my veins. It can't play. It doesn't feel hope.

Why would it save me? A ghost should be a horrible creäture forced to killing anyone who dared to explore nearby! This confused me more than I could believe. Being blind again I didn’t know where I was heading or where it wanted me to go. around 30 minutes in, my toes once again touch the dusty wood of the 3 story houses' attic.

The abandoned house of Solamoan was a dreaded place full of superstitions. The ghost of Solamoan was but one of them. It began when a lonely soul drifted into the home when World War II was in full swing. It feasted on any person's fear as they battled near, turning them into a mindless zombie-like creature. We called them, Lurkers.

As the world was spinning each person that was eaten upon would be abandoned, forgotten and left to live the rest of their brainless lives on an uneasy thread until that string broke. They would be stuck this way forever. This spirit began to grow, each time a curious person explored the area. The ghost had the power to control them. I'm its next victim. How I wish to be at the mercy of chocolate or something safe.

I live on the same street as the abandoned home with my mum and my sister. My dad went missing during the WW||. One day a 'Dare Contest' was held. My friend dared me to explore this house. I did and I blacked out as the door hit me on the way in. I suppose it was a funny way to go out. There's still a huge bump on my head.

I can feel the air swiftly flowing past my face as the haunted soul flies through the air with great enthusiasm. Shortly after a long flight I find myself back, tied up in my seat in the abandoned house of Solamoan. What does this tenacious ghost want from me?

The fog quickly passed on to show my last match. Nothing. Guessed so. In the Solamoan lore, the only way to truly see this horror is to find the one glass shard from the mirror that belonged to the owners of this house. If the rest of the legend has shown as the truth so far then this might be accurate as well.

I'm struggling with all my might but to my stupefaction, it's to no avail. I'm pulling hard on the duct tape around my wrists and caused a rip. I can move my hands now but only slightly. I have a paperclip that was conveniently placed in my pocket from a craft project I had at school. I picked at the rip in the tape and successfully cut through. Time to tug at the tight rubber band around my waist. I break it into quarters. Why are they so loose? I wonder how a ghost could piece together this trap if its hands are transparent. Now's not the time to imagine uselessly. The door is open. Let's go there. The mirror was in the bedroom so I assume it's there.

As I sneak into the bedroom I notice a glistening light shining from under the bed. I found it! The glass shard! Books flew off of the shelves with a flourish of dust. I tried to pick up the shard as fast as I could but the ghost beat me to it. It's been glued to the floor. I ran as fast as I could. Left, Right, Downstairs and back up after realising I was going into the basement as a trail of dust flew past me. I turned a sharp corner sending the ghost into the laundry and bolted into the kitchen. I frantically looked for something to cut the shard free from the glue so I could see where the ghost was at any given time. I found a butcher's knife and flew into the bedroom at such speed. I scraped the dried glue hoping to break it. I freed the shard and with a flash, I stood in the light from the bedroom window and revealed the ghost. I'm bewildered. It's my father's ghost.  

My dad had died in World War II after he left my family to pursue his dream and be a fighter jet pilot. He had been fired down by the Indian air force in a burst of flames. William James was famous as the way he went out was to protect our country. The air force fired at him and he quickly retaliated so both jets crashed.

 He wasn't chasing me to hurt me, he was trying to get my attention. I watched as he gently placed his hand on my shoulder and whispered near silently, "I miss you son. I know it's never okay to leave family but I did so you and your mother survived. It was all for you. I didn't want my last sight to be that of a bullet, rapidly hurtling towards my face."

The left side of his buoyant body dragged itself out into thin air. "Dad I"

"Shh. I have to go now my child. To heaven. So when it's your time, I can see you again." He said about to cry as well.

"I love you, dad," I said choking up with a tear trickling down my cheek.

 "I know son." My father slowly disappeared with the breeze. Here I was being angry at my loving Dad for fighting, having the thought that he wouldn't come back, but I never realised the true value of his new life. I kept shut about his ghost ever since then, and the legend of Solamoan disappeared as my father had.