Matthew met his ghost when he was six. Standing on the stairs of his new home, that first night, in his too-big nightshirt, he saw a boy he'd never seen before. The American house his mother had taken him to was bigger than the old one and much colder. "Entrancing," His mother had whispered to him, eyes twinkling, as they stood in front of the red brick façade. He had pushed closer against her trousered leg, wide eyes and mouth open in an 'o' shape. The house in Canada was tiny, cozy and his favorite place in the world. But he picked up his toy polar bear- a parting gift from his classmates- and followed her into the new house.
It had been a mad scramble that first day, what with the real estate agent and the workmen bringing in boxes and occasionally patting him on the head. Matthew was a quiet child, one who did not enjoy being singled out, but he smiled when the big men messed up his blond curls. They seemed so strong and intimidating, but he enjoyed the fact that they were helping his family. His mother took him to the corner shop where they bought sandwiches and Matthew's favorite white chocolate cookies. He almost cried at how much he missed his friends, but his mother understood. Taking his hand, she had led him back to their new house.
At bedtime, she had tucked him up in his unfamiliar bed and kissed him on the forehead before heading downstairs to unpack. Matthew generally didn't sleep well. He enjoyed staying awake and telling his polar bear his thoughts and stories and poems until far into the night. This night was no exception, his fingers playing with the toy's fur and his thoughts spilling out of his mouth in a disorganized jumble. After some time, he noticed how quiet it sounded, nothing like the loudness of the lakeside town he grew up in. There was no noise at all – except for a tapping coming from downstairs.
Matthew was intrigued. With no chance of sleep, he slipped out of bed and padded across the odd blue carpet of his room. Quietly, he pushed open the door. Matthew knew how to be quiet, knew how to slip past people. He moved as silently as he could towards the stairs, pulling the polar bear against his chest. He got lost twice, bumping into a wall and nearly knocking over a lamp. His eyes were accustomed to the dark, but it was a new house and he wasn't used to it. He squeezed his eyes shut and fumbled for the staircase. Finally, his fingers found the handrail and he sighed in relief, starting to climb down it.
The tapping had got no louder as he tripped down the steep wooden stairs, but he could still hear it. His blue eyes strained through the darkness to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. He had to know.
Suddenly, there was a noise right beside his ear. It sounded like someone coughing. Gasping, he spun around to face –
A boy. Matthew blinked. He looked like a boy, at least. A boy about his own age, except –
Except he had shockingly white hair.
Except his skin was the color of snow.
Except his eyes were blood red.
Except he was see-through.
Matthew gaped.