At first glance it was a very unremarkable house. The paint outside was peeling and all the windows were broken. Most of the rooms contained nothing but a few pieces of furniture standing dustily in the corners, their wooden legs splintering and falling apart. Broken knickknacks piled on top of each other in the middle of shelves that had sunken dangerously inward. A couple of vases stood by the doorway, their chips and cracks hidden by the twiggy skeletons of decorative plants that had once grown there. The rugs and pillows had been worn away by the years and the once deep red velvet of the armchair in one corner of the study was now nothing but a pale pink film stretched thinly over rotting cotton. The mansion was silent, but it was the kind of silence that reminded one of the atmospheres in a theater just as the curtain is going up. This air of expectation seeped through the mansion, out into the forest and made the animals in the area surrounding the house very uneasy. No birds ever roosted in the drafty rafters and the attic was empty of bats. Even the rats and raccoons stayed as far away as they could. Strangely enough, despite the anticipatory silence thickening the air, the mansion entertained guests from the nearby town quite frequently. They couldn't seem to keep themselves away.

From a second story bedroom window beyond the fraying curtains, two young boys were being observed as they argued by the front porch.

"My old man told me it was haunted," one of the boys said, with a nervous look up at the house.

"Mine said it was just rotting." The second boy crossed his arms, looking much more confident than he felt.

"Nuh-uh," the first boy said. "That's dumb. Our house has been up longer than this one, and it's not rotting. Only ghosts can do this to a house."

"Yeah, right," the second kid said. "My dad should know. He's a carpenter. And anyway," he said, more sure of himself now, "Robbie says ghosts don't exist."

There was a frustrated pause. The first kid rubbed his nose, thinking hard. "Well... my dad's older than Robbie, so he knows more. Robbie's only in high school."

"Only? Only in high school?" the second kid said, shocked. "He's probably almost as old as your dad by now! I'm never gonna get that old. And your dad's so old he probably forgot everything he learned in school anyway."

"Don't talk about my dad like that! He's way smarter than Robbie. He went to university." He crossed his arms and said smugly. "And I bet you're too chicken to go in there, anyway."

"You wish I was," said the second kid. "But you probably made some of your creepy relatives hide in the attic before we got here. They're probably just waiting for me to go in so they can try to spook me. I'm not fallin' for that."

"Scaredy-cat!"

"Stupid-face!"

And so a scuffle started in the dry leaves in the yard outside the house. The yelling of the kids drifted in through the broken windowpanes and echoed throughout the house. Unheard by the kids and almost drowned out by the noise, a light laugh ruffled the tattered curtains of the window in the second floor bedroom.

The kids left soon after that, called back to the town by their parents for lunch. But they were not the last visitors the house was expecting.

A young man had taken a book with him as he walked down the sunny wooded path from the town to the house. He avoided the rocks and bumps in the road expertly without quitting his reading, and soon ended up in his favorite spot; the swing on the porch of the old mansion. Soon, he had made himself comfortable and was completely absorbed in his reading. He didn't notice when the door creaked without opening, nor when unseen shoes briskly walked across the porch. The presence paused politely in front of him with the air of offering him a lemonade to ward off the heat of the day. And though normally the young man felt he could stay there forever, a strange, growing chill beside him soon had him looking for a warmer place to relax.

In a house near the town hall, a young girl was having her first pubescent argument with her mother about the young man who managed the stables. She burst out of her house in tears, ran into the woods toward the empty house within. She had ruled the mansion when she was much younger and still thought of it as her second home. Upstairs was her princess room, the one with the pink floral curtains and white furniture. Somehow this particular room had been kept up, at least more so than the rest of the house. There was only a light coating of dust over the vanity and mirror, and the pink blankets on the bed weren't too badly off. As she threw herself into the pillows and fading covers for a good cry, a gentle creaking sounded on the floorboards at the door. A benevolent presence seemed to have entered the room. It was a matronly, jolly, lady-in-waiting kind of presence and it filled the air with a faint, flowery perfume. The girl calmed down after a few minutes, having been transported back to her childhood when she had played in this room with this same feeling in the dry and dusty air. She fell asleep feeling safe and comforted, the ghost of a hand reassuringly on her back.

Later that day, a party of hunters rode out into the woods nearby. The happy shouts of the men and dogs filled the air and seemed to enliven the house as well. Long after the townsmen had gone, echoes of gunshots and cries of victory from unseen gentlemen on a Sunday hunt rang throughout the forest for hours afterward.

The next weekend, the two bickering kids were back again, this time with a few of their friends from school.

"Like I said before, everybody knows it's haunted," said the first boy.

The second boy glared at him and retorted, "Everybody knows that ghosts don't exist."

There was a murmur of assent from most of the group. Their new teacher had talked about how ridiculous the idea of ghosts was after she had heard the numerous rumors about the haunted mansion.

But whenever any of the kids asked their parents, all they would get was a knowing smile and a little shake of the head. The adults wouldn't say anything except, "You'll just have to go in and decide for yourself."

"Scott is just scared," said a girl standing behind the first boy. "He doesn't want to go in."

Scott glared at both of them. "You've never seen any ghosts, have you, Nancy?"

"No, but Joey's dad did. He's really smart, so I believe him," she said, sticking her tongue out at Scott. Joey nodded, satisfied.

"And my dad went to university, so he knows what he's talking about," Joey said with pride.

"Come on, Scott. I'll go in too. My dad says that the ghosts here aren't mean. He said he played with them when he was a kid."

The stairs on the front porch creaked, unnoticed by the group. "I don't need you to come with me! I can do it by myself," said Scott. Joey crossed his arms over his chest and looked at him expectantly.

"Well, go on. It's getting dark. Ghosts like the dark, but you wouldn't be worried about that, would you?"

A curtain in the second floor bedroom fluttered and an amused face observed the group. One of the girls looked up suddenly, and jumped as she saw a pale shape in the window. She blinked and it was gone. "J-Joey, I think I saw something in that window," she stuttered, pointing. Scott stared at her. Joey came over and peered up at the still house.

"Really? What was it?"

"I'm not sure. It was just kind of a white thing up in the window..." she said uncomfortably. "I don't think I want to go in."

"It's okay, Julie. You don't have to. Scott's the one who doesn't believe in ghosts, so he'll go up to check for you." He gave Scott a sympathetic look. "But if I was him, I'd be pretty nervous. Dad says the ghosts like to be out on Friday nights especially. He said that's when the people who used to live here held their parties and stuff."

"I'm not nervous. Julie probably just saw the curtains moving," Scott said defiantly. "And even if there are ghosts, which there aren't, they wouldn't be able to do anything to me anyway. They're just air."

Just then the door-handle rattled loudly and the porch steps creaked and groaned like a falling tree. Scott yelped and scuttled behind Nancy, who froze in fear. Joey stared at the empty porch in shocked fascination as the steps began to creak louder and louder, as if huge numbers of people were going up them all at once. Gradually the creaking slowed, and the last noise the kids heard was the soft rustle of a dress and the sound of little booted feet pattering up the steps.

After a few seconds of silence, the entire group of kids screamed and tore through the piles of leaves back to the town.

There was a tiny giggle from the porch, and the door handle rattled one last time. Soon afterward all that could be heard were the faint sounds of chamber music and the steady rhythm of dancing feet.

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