I stepped out into the dark night and was immediately greeted by a blast of frigid air. I shivered and pulled my scarf tighter around my neck. It was unusually cold for an autumn evening. That could only mean one thing: they're here. Who's here? you may ask. The spirits. I am what you would call a psychic, in a way. I can see and sense the dead. I can talk with the dead. About four years ago, a girl was murdered in the cornfield near my school. Her name was Susan Salmon. She was fourteen years old when she was murdered. I remember the night she died her spirit brushed my hand on its way to the inbetween. My name is Ruth Connors, and I can sence the dead.
