There was a small boy in the junkyard who seemed like a ghost. People didn't really talk about him, because they didn't know if he really existed. He would appear, and then be gone. Stories began to start. Halloween tales. Spooky ghost stories. About how the junkyard was haunted by a small boy whose soul was stuck on earth, until he could be reunited with the one name he'd call for and go home. Over and over again, the neighbors would say, he would call that name, and beg to be taken home. All into the night. A howling cry, so full of pain and fright that the people who lived in the neighborhood would stay up in horror and gnawing fear.

They hoped he came soon. They hoped the ghost boy would find him. Maybe finally he could rest in peace, and then, so could they. They hoped the ghost boy found him soon.

They hoped the ghost boy would find Andy.

***

Kyle rubbed her eyes as her last patient crawled out the door. 26 years old, and she was already feeling like a 50 year old woman. She read the last few pages of Ms. Peterson's book, contemplating the last words. The book was considered radical. It made violent debates break out. Simply titled, "The Lakeshore Strangler", it had set people thinking. Some people thought it so sad, and pitied the killer. Others said it was a pity-story put together, and that it was injustice to those who had lost their loved ones. Kyle didn't see it as either. She saw it as a psychological link, a way to let the world know, this is why. It was almost comforting. At least now it wasn't that Ray killed for no reason. That he was born a monster.

She had lost loved ones too. The Simpsons had been kind to her. They could have been her family. Ah, well. She sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. Now she was a social worker, a psychiatrist. Her patients shared their stories, and she shared hers. She and her patients had a particularly special bond because they couldn't tell her she didn't know about life. She had yet to see someone whose life had been worse. But she would encourage them, tell them she understood, and they would know she did, because she had been there. Perhaps she should thank Charles Lee Ray.

Laughing at that irony, she flipped through the newspaper. Mrs. Barclay and Mr. Norris were being let out of the mental institution. Apparently their time in had drawn them close, because the article also said they were planning their wedding. Ms. Peterson was there. Mrs. Barclay. Ms. Peterson. Mr. Norris. She remembered them well. She had babysat their son, Andy. She had been so rude to him. She remembered regretting it, and going to apologize.

She remembered other things, but she dared not tell anyone, or they would send her to the nuthouse. The doll. That thing moved. And talked. It was telling him something about his past. Sounded a lot like this book she had just read. But it was impossible, right? Charles couldn't be that doll, because he had died. Right?

Then she read the article about the ghost boy.

***

If you hurt him, if you break his heart, I swear, I will hunt you down. And if I don't, his voice will haunt you, and you will never be able to forget him.

That is not a threat.

That is a promise...

***

Krista was excited to see the letter from her old friend. They had been writing back and forth now. "Oh, Quanisha," she sighed happily. "To see you did actually grow up to be a pop-star." She kept reading. The letter stated that Quanisha was coming to see her, and perform a concert at the military academy. She smiled.

"Private De Silva!" A bark. Krista rolled her eyes. "What are you smiling at?" She turned to see the old childhood bully. Brett C. Shelton. "My friend wrote me a letter. We're on break right now, sir," she said with slight sarcasm. Of all people, she thought, why did Shelton have to be captain? She was much better than him. "Who from?" he asked.

She walked away, ignoring his orders. He wasn't really in charge. He just wished he was.

She came into the small building where they all stayed. Her friend, Ellen was painting her toenails. She honestly didn't know what the girl did to get landed here. "Hey, Ellen," she said, tapping her nose with the letter. "I'm gonna go see Andy. Wanna come?" The girl looked up and tossed her bright red hair. "Oh, yes." she said with a grin. Krista giggled. Some things don't change, Krista thought. Andy Barclay was still that quiet boy that all the girls secretly talked about when he wasn't around.

She remembered when she first saw him again. They had embraced. He didn't know he'd ever see anyone he knew again He wasn't there by choice. Apparently, he'd gotten in some trouble. She didn't know what it could be. Andy was such a good kid. And even now, the leaders of the academy noticed him. How well he worked. He still wanted to be a doctor. "Can't I be a doctor in the military?" he'd ask.

Man, Quanisha would have to see him. She would agree he had gotten F-I-N-E.

'Nisha was surrounded by her gang. "So, 'Nisha girl, how'd the interview go?" Lanika was asking. "Good, but you know, girl, they kept asking me the strangest things. Like, why some of my songs are so sad. I was all like, 'Cuz, hon, life is sad.'" They shared a laugh, her and Lanika with the bright eyes and the rest of the group. "But hey, I got exciting news!" 'Nisha said. "You know that Kentwood Military Academy?" Lanika frowned. "No, never heard of it." Lil' Shawn, who was laid back against the wall of graffiti, straightened up. "You mean that one over by that old farmhouse?" 'Nisha nodded. "Mmhmm. That one. My old friend, Krista- remember how I talked about her?- she goes there."

"She get in some trouble?" Lil' Shawn asked. "Naw, stupid. She wants to be in the army," 'Nisha laughed, slapping the young man playfully. "She done always been that way. I remember in elementary school, we was always playin' like we was in the army..." She was looking off, remembering. There was something else she was missing. She couldn't remember what though.

They heard a sound. A shuffling. "What the hell was that?" Lanika asked suddenly. "Ooh, it's ghosts, Lanika," Lil' Shawn teased. She smacked him. "Shut up, ho, I know it ain't a ghost, I'm just sayin'. What if it's an animal? Like a snake?" Lil' Shawn shrugged. "Well, they did say it was haunted. I heard in the news, people be hearin' things. Like a ghost kid, or some crazy-ass shit like that." 'Nisha shook her head. "Whatever. I ain't heard nothing." She looked towards the junkyard and felt a creeping chill, but said nothing. She just walked towards it. "Wait!'Nisha, where are you going?" Lanika called. "You can't die before your concert tonight!"

The head popped out before 'Nisha could respond. The group all jumped.

It was a small, ginger-haired boy. Blue eyes. A face that looked like he had been crying for months. When they jumped back and screamed, his lips quivered, and he shrank against the wall, small animal-like whimpers escaping from his lips. "Shh… shh… hush you guys," Lanika said. She looked at him. "I think we've scared him." 'Nisha calmed herself and began to walk towards him slowly. "Hey there, honey," she said softer. "Sorry about that. You gave us a little jump, that's all." The others nodded. "I'm 'Nisha." She knelt to his height. "Where's your Momma, honey?" He sniffed. "Andy," he said softly. His voice was so hoarse, it sounded like it had been scraped from the inside out.

"'Nisha, he's that ghost," Lil' Shawn whispered. "Step away…" 'Nisha gave him a frown. "Where is he?" she asked the boy. His face crumpled. "I don't know," he whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "He's coming to take me home, someday…" The group of young adults looked at each other. The boy was obviously lost. He started coughing. And sick. "Okay," 'Nisha began. She looked back at her friends for help. "Why don't you come with us?" Lanika asked slowly. "We can help you find him. Right?"

Lil' Shawn shrugged; 'Nisha just touched the boy's arm. He jumped. "It's okay, honey, we won't hurt you," she said softly. She held out her hand, and the boy took it carefully. He was still murmuring something about Andy. His fingers were cold. He looked almost too perfect, besides the fact he was thin and dirty. He looked as if he were a doll. "What's your name?" 'Nisha asked, simply curious as to who this mysterious "ghost-boy" was. Something about him was so familiar, like a memory...

The boy looked at her with those blue eyes. "Charlie," he said softly. "My name is Charlie."