The Old Willis Place

ahead of me, I followed a deer trail deep into the woods. When I came to the creek, I shoved the bike down the bank and watched it splash into the water. It came to rest behind a clump of pokeberries. No one would find it there.
    Without another word, we left the bike where it had fallen and headed for home.
T HE D IARY OF L ISSA M ORRISON
Dear Diary,
Is this how you start? I never kept a diary before, so I'm not sure. Up till now I thought my life was too boring to think about, let alone write about, but that's changing. This is the second day Dad and I have spent here, and already strange things are happening.
First of all, the old Willis house is the creepiest place you ever saw. It's got to be haunted. Dad says the old lady who owned it was really eccentric, maybe even crazy. Anyway, she died in the house—in the front parlor, where she slept because she got too old to climb the steps to her bedroom. She lay there dead for a week before anyone found her. Ugh.
It seems like the perfect setup for a ghost, don't you think? She died there—all alone. Think about it. I can almost see her, can't you? A weird old lady, white hair, scary face, roaming aroundfrom room to room, up and down the steps, watching, waiting—oooh, I'm scaring myself.
Do you believe in ghosts, Dear Diary? Dad definitely doesn't. I talked to him after dinner about Miss Willis—that's the old lady's name—and I asked him if he thought she haunted the house. He laughed. I hate it when he laughs at me. Like he thinks I'm silly. Or dumb maybe.
If my mother was here, I know she wouldn't laugh—but she died when I was so little I can hardly remember her. Someday I'll write more about how much I miss her, but I don't want to make myself feel sad. So I will just say I wish she was here right now and we were sitting close together reading a book or something.
I know this sounds odd, Dear Diary, so don't tell anyone, but I'd love to see a ghost—just to know for sure they exist. I wouldn't be scared. At least, I don't think I'd be. How could a ghost actually hurt you? They're just ectoplasm or something, not solid.
Maybe it's because of my mother; maybe that's why I wonder so much about what happens when you die and where you go and if you can stay on earth for a while. I'd really like to know.
Now here's something else to tell you, something different. Not supernatural but scarier in a way because it's real. The first day we came to the farm, there was someone in the woods spying on us. Kids maybe. I'm sure of it. I could feel them watching me. I swear my scalp prickled. I had the same feeling while we were eating dinner last night—they were back, spying again.
I told Dad, but he says it's my imagination. I'm in a new place, I'm not used to woods all around, I hear birds and squirrels and think they're people. The way he talks,you'd think I didn't have an ounce of sense.
Maybe I should give Dad some of my spare imagination. It might help him finish that book so he can get a better job and we can live in a house with a yard and neighbors and I can go to school and have friends—instead of spies in the woods.
But that's not all—someone stole my bike last night. Dad can't blame that on birds or squirrels! We searched all over, but there's not a sign of it. My beautiful new blue bike is really and truly gone.
Dad called the police and they came out and talked to us. They said teenagers sometimes sneak onto the property and most likely that's who took my bike. When I told them I thought someone was spying on us, one of the policemen said it must have been the same kids who stole my bike. They live in a development just across the highwayfrom the farm. The police have had trouble with them trespassing before.
The other policeman shook his head. "Funny things happen out here" he said. "None of the caretakers stay long. Place gives them the jitters, they say. Some of them claim it's haunted by the old lady who used to live here. Her and the poor—"
The first policeman coughed and said, "We'd better get going, Novak. We've got other business."
I had the funniest feeling he didn't want us to hear what Officer Novak was about to say In case you haven't noticed, that's how it always is with adults—just when someone starts telling the interesting stuff, someone else shuts him up: I glanced at Dad, hoping he'd ask him what he was talking about, but he was watching MacDuff chase a squirrel.
Officer Novak jingled his keys and looked at me. "Don't go too