Chapter 4: Shadows of Maple Heights

I ignored Mason for days. He hovered around me like a shadow, but I pretended not to see this ghost. The silence between us grew heavier with each passing day.

Maybe he knew I was truly angry, because he often kept his distance, hiding alone in the shadows. The house felt emptier, colder.

That’s when I realized Mason could show up during the day too, not just at night. But in daylight, he always looked like an eight- or nine-year-old kid. Maybe the sunlight was too much for him. His form flickered, less substantial.

Seeing him like that always reminded me of the first time we met. I’d almost forgotten.

Back then, both my parents had died in an accident, and my older brother brought me, still young and clueless, to Maple Heights to seek our uncle. The world felt too big, too strange.

As we passed the old white house on Sycamore Lane, I saw a boy sitting on the fence. His eyes were red, lips sticking out a mile, chin lifted. On the other side of the fence, a man was shouting curses.

"You brat, even a sack of potatoes would be better than you! If youve got guts, stay up there forever!"

Curious, I stared at the boy. His face was streaked with dirt, but his eyes were fierce.

Unexpectedly, he sneered, "Get lost, you little beggar! I can smell the trash on you from here!"

After traveling so far, my brother and I were indeed filthy. Hearing someone insult me, my nose stung and I burst into tears. The tears came fast, hot and uncontrollable.

My brother couldn’t stand to see me cry. He hurried to comfort me, then took off his own sneaker and flung it at the boy. The boy couldn’t dodge, and he ended up with a big black mark on his face.

My brother and I both burst out laughing. It was the first time I’d laughed in days.

He scooped me up and ran off. The wind whipped past us, and for the first time in days, I felt lighter.

That’s how our feud began. Later, Mason often bullied me, but my brother always got him back for me. It became our routine—a strange kind of friendship.

Now, the once-bright boy squatted in the corner of the backyard, watching me with wounded eyes. He looked so small, so lost.

I almost laughed. He was the one who wanted to break up, but he was the first to get upset. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Figures.

"Charlie, what are you looking at?" Bree patted my shoulder, looking confused.

"That jerk Mason!"

As soon as I said it, both Bree and I were startled. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I waved my hands in panic. "I—I was just talking nonsense…" What was I thinking? I needed to keep it together.

I scolded myself. How could I blurt out Mason’s secret? In all the stories, if a ghost is discovered, they’re exorcised…

Wait, exorcised…

Suddenly, I remembered what Mason said when we fought: Maybe it’s because of my guilt that I can’t move on.

Was it really guilt, or an unfulfilled wish? The question gnawed at me.

I stared blankly at the gloomy little boy. Bree’s words of comfort faded into the background. The world narrowed to just me and Mason, suspended in time.

The boy I loved should have been a soldier, driving across the country, living wild and free—not trapped in the shadows as a ghost. He deserved more than this half-life.

"Bree, I’m not feeling well today…" I mumbled, barely able to meet her eyes.

Bree stopped talking, looking at me with concern. After a while, she said, "Charlie, you have to move on."

Yes, only the living can look forward. The dead are trapped in the past.

I can—but Mason never will again. The thought ached, sharp as broken glass.

After parting with Bree, I stood in the backyard, staring at Mason. In the end, he gave in first. He stepped out of the shadows, into the sunlight, and stopped in front of me.

"Charlie, standing in the sun like that, arent you afraid of getting burned? No one will want to marry you if you burn to a crisp."

"And look!" He held up a chubby little hand and said in a childish voice, "Look, I’m steaming in the sun! If this keeps up, I’ll disappear! And…" I almost smiled at his antics.

I cut him off, asking, "Mason, what’s your wish?"

The usually talkative Mason fell silent, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"I want you to get married."

"To someone who loves you, and whom you love."

I couldn’t breathe, my heart heavy. "It can’t be you?"

"It can’t be me." The words landed like a stone in my chest.

After that, I made peace with Mason. I thought about it—if I were the ghost and Mason was the one alive, would I want him to stay with me?

Probably not. Letting go was the only kindness left.

Falling in love is easy; staying together is hard. Especially when life and death stand between you. Sometimes, love isn’t enough.

Who can guarantee that childhood love won’t fade with time? Not even promises can hold back the tide of change.

I looked at the handsome man hanging upside down from the porch beam and thought, he really has grown up over the years. Even as a ghost, he seemed older, wiser. How strange, how sad.

I picked up a green apple from the table and tossed it at Mason. He dodged nimbly, scolding, "You itching for trouble, little girl?"

"Need me to teach you a lesson?"

"Yeah, if you’ve got the guts, come here." I wanted to bicker with him, but now I never could. The old playfulness was tinged with sadness.

I grinned. "If you want to see me get married, have you picked out my future husband?" My heart squeezed as I said it.

Mason turned away with a huff. "Who’d want to marry a silly thing like you? Must be blind."

He pouted, lips sticking out a mile. I chuckled, only for Mason to glare at me.

He wanted to let me go, and I wanted to let him go, too. The realization was bittersweet.

I put away my smile and said seriously, "If you can’t be my love, then be my little brother." The words felt strange and right all at once.

If I can’t have your love, then family will do. At least you’ll have a place by my side. The words felt right, a new beginning.

Mason’s swinging stopped. He looked at me, curious. "Why little?"

"Because I already have a big brother."

"Hmph!" He rolled his eyes, grumbling, "So which is more important, little brother or big brother?"

I just smiled at his exasperated face. The question was too big to answer.

Mason jumped down from the beam and walked up to me. He dropped the act and got serious.

Seeing him like that, my heart skipped a beat. He said, slowly, "I can be your brother, but tomorrow you have to come somewhere with me."

"Where?"

"Why so many questions? Think Im going to kidnap you?" He sounded annoyed, his eyes cold. "Its late. Go have dinner with your dear brother."

With that, Mason turned into a swirl of black mist and swept out the window, vanishing instantly.

I stood there, feeling wronged by his sudden anger. The emptiness in the room pressed in on me.

Honestly, even a sack of potatoes is better than you, you brat!