Seeing my unaged brother at Mr. Keith’s house sends me into denial. I know it’s impossible, but my eyes tell me otherwise. My brother stands in the window, staring at me, or is he? I don’t know, but somehow the house is involved. I’m sure of that, and, starting today, I’ll ferret out every secret this place tries to hide.

Last month, Mr. Keith died at 83 years old in his sleep, and his home was put up for sale soon after. I didn’t waste time purchasing it because once I finish moving in today, I plan to find out if that boy in the window is my brother.

Six months after Kyle’s disappearance, I put up ‘missing posters, and when I walked by Mr. Keith’s house, I looked up at the window. Kyle stood in an upstairs room, staring down at me. I froze in disbelief, my mind racing a mile a minute as I stared back at him—questions without answers chasing each other in my head.

My brother looks the same as he had six months ago, except without his Halloween costume. This Kyle is wearing an outfit mom bought him for his birthday. How? Even stranger, Kyle raises his hand, placing the palm against the windowpane. Am I looking at Kyle’s ghost? I don’t know and didn’t know back then what I was seeing, but I told my parents and the police what I saw and that it was the house. They didn’t believe me.

Soon after, my research into the paranormal began. I’ve been to numerous conferences about haunted houses and demonology in preparation for this day. I’m determined to find out what happened to Kyle and if the place holds my brother hostage. I’m ready for that, too. 

The past thirteen years weren’t easy for me because losing Kyle consumed me. How could I let him go inside that Halloween? Instead, I dismissed my feelings about the house as my imagination, but Kyle was gone. I’ve dealt first with my parent’s accusations and then their grief. 

The moving truck pulls up to the curve, breaking me out of my revelry, and I turn my attention to unloading furniture. Inside, I direct the movers to where I want them to place everything, and a few hours later, silence reigns. 

I gaze up at the room where I saw Kyle and wonder what I will find. The house was built in 1890 and is older than the other houses in the neighborhood. Their construction began after the 1930s when the town was founded.

An Eastern Europe man by the name of Silenov came to the States to make his fortune. He had the house built for his wife, whom he had left in Bulgaria until he could afford to bring her over. But then, things turned strange. Shortly after it was built, Silenov disappeared. 

It stood empty until Brent Edwins came in 1935 and founded the town. Mr. Keith’s mansion was the only structure there. So, Edwins claimed it and moved in with his family, and soon after, the Edwins family experienced one tragedy after another. 

Edwins lost his three children: the eldest to pneumonia, the middle to a drowning accident, and the third was thrown from a horse. His wife, Mariah, died from an unknown disease after being bedridden for two years. 

Records show Edwins tried telling people that the house was cursed, but they laughed it off. In 1965, Edwins died from mysterious circumstances, and it stood empty again until 1980 when Mr. Keith moved in with his family. Like Edwins, his family died one after the other until only Mr. Keith lived. 

Even more interesting is I can’t find the builder Silenov hired to build the dream house. His name isn’t listed in the records. One day the house wasn’t there, and the next, it was. 

Mr. Keith’s house is shrouded in mystery and has been for a long time, but I’ll learn all its secrets.

A door slams against the wall upstairs, and a harsh, raspy voice calls out, Ramon.

It begins.