Every neighborhood in America has at least one house that local legend claims to be haunted by a ghost or a demon. Every town, very village, from one coast to the other has at least one. And would you know, I happen to live in the most famous house in Benton, the famous “Sterling House''. Now, if you were standing on the street, the house would look like any other house on the block. It's a creole style cottage with a wrap around the front porch.  The front yard has a big, old oak tree in it. The back yard is kind of swampy since a creek runs through it.  As for the house itself, nothing really stands out, the windows might need cleaning, the floors might need mopping, the basement is cluttered with stuff. All in all it's your average house in the urban sections of Benton.

Only it's different. This house is haunted, and I know the ghost who haunts it. Ghost is the cheerful, almost playful spirit of Sterling, a teenage girl who committed suicide back in two thousand by jumping from highest point in Benton, the towns main water tower. How do I know this, because I've seen her with my own eyes and oddly enough she kind of like my big sister.

Now, others have told of that fateful night Sterling took her own life. There is no need for me to rehash it here. Heck I knew something was off about the house I minute I stepped foot in it. Everything felt off. It had been shut up for a good twenty one years at this point. But maybe that is why the house was so cheap, see I'm not from Benton, I'm from Yazoo City, my mom though was born and raised here. But when her marriage to my dad fell apart.. and boy did she take his sorry ass over the coals, pardon my french there. But boy she took him to the cleaners. 

What happened to my dad? Well mom and I caught him with some french woman, dude they were going at it in my bedroom for God's sake~ Like when I walked in on them, dad had tied her up and was going all Fifty shades of gray. I screamed, mom screamed, the woman screamed, dad screamed, I think dad came the moment she started screaming.. that one mental image that I would never get out of my head. I think I should have known something was off with Dad when I started to find my old barbie dolls tied up and blindfolded. But that a story for another time and place.

Anyway, mom quickly filed for divorce, it was granted like in a day, mom got the house and the lion's share of the bank account along with a good chunk of daddies oil royalties. Mom then sold our old house for a tiny profit. Once the house was sold, mom then decided she wanted to return to her hometown. And so she uprooted me from my settled life in Yazoo City and moved me forty miles into the sticks. Mom settled on this house because it was in her words a “Steal”whatever that means. Anyway once we were settled in, she decided she was going to put her education to use and open up her own small business, because it seemed popular at the time. And her business is now thriving.

And what happened to dad? Oh he left town and resettled in New Orleans with his french marriage breaker. They live in a small apartment in the french quarters down there. I think he's working with some big law firm or something. Not sure, don't care. Don't want to see either him or that french slut, pardon my french for the rest of my natural life. 

Anyway, once we moved in I knew something was off about the house. I mean, given the fact the house had been boarded up for twenty something odd years, that was a given. I mean there was dust a good three or four inches on the floor and on the stairwell. A lot of the old dishes were still in the cupboard. Safe to say it was a pretty big job, so big I had to get some friends of the family over to help. And so our forces mustered and armed for battle we tackled the job of making the house livable.

And trust me that was a job and a half. I spent hours on my hands and knees scrubbing with a scrub brush the floorboards and the baseboards of the house. The windows were caked with dust and had massive cobwebs hanging in the corners.  

Anyway, since the project was so big, we kind of sectioned the house off. And I would normally spend a lot of time along, doing you know cleaning. I started cleaning, at first my room. Something felt off the minute I was left along. It was early spring, and already the highs for the day were hitting eighty or ninety, that common in Mississippi. Anyway I was scrubbing and the windows were open to help the floorboards dry and to lure some fresh air into the house, when I felt a sudden cold breeze cross the small of my neck. It was cold, like really cold and made those tiny arms on the back of my neck stand straight up.

I kind of blocked it out. And returned to scrubbing my floors, the cold breeze happened again. And this time, I kind of paused a bit longer before returning to work. Then it happened, the mop bucket, I swear to God and sunny Jesus y'all went flying through the air, spilling its contents of steaming hot water mixed with cleaner all over the floor. I freaked then and ran like hell down the wooden steps. The sound of laughter followed.

Now I come from old southern stock, so after I settled down, said a few prayers, I eased back into the room, picked the bucket up, filled it with water again and resumed my cleaning. Nothing happened. A few days later, when I started to scrub the walls in the upstairs hallway, I noticed somebody had written in the dust and grim. 

“Go AWAY!” It is what was written. I paused for a moment and shrugged my shoulders and just cleaned away the words and nothing happened. As I did that the air around me got colder and colder and I felt somebody had shifted all its attention to me.

Things started ramping up too, I would sweep and the broom would fly out of my hand, I would be  knocking down some cobwebs and again the broom would just get knocked out of my hand. I would come to find my bed sheets and covers flung all over the room. Once I found my Manga collection piled up in a nice neat pile at the foot of the stairwell, with my bed sheets, and most of my stuff packed up in boxes. Mom and I had been out that day doing some shopping for the house. Both mom and eye shrugged our shoulders and she helped me get my stuff back into its proper place.

We figured we had a ghost, but the ghost seemed harmless enough. Mom called our local Episcopal Priest, Fr. Percy over to bless the house. Mom had attended school with Fr. Percy for a few years and once confined in me, the way mothers do that she had dated him for a few months. The two never broke up, but just gently floated apart. Anyway the moment Fr. Percy stepped into our house and something odd happened. 

For one, nothing happened, no weird bumping sounds, no random closing or opening of windows. The house became silent and it put both mom and I on edge. Fr. Percy however started to roam around, he roamed for a good two hours. Going from room to room. I was surprised, I expected him to  start chanting prayers in Latin and splashing holy water around, instead he seemed to be thinking. At times it seemed he was talking to somebody.

Finally, his tour finished and he ushered mom and I into the sitting room. Mom fixed Fr. Percy  some coffee and he thanked her. After he finished his coffee. He took a deep breath, removed his collar and leaned back into the chair.

“You do have a ghost. The ghost is a young girl, fourteen or fifteen. Around Taylor's age. It seemed she killed herself, by jumping off the town's water tower some twenty one years ago. She is not ready to move on.” He paused.

“At first she was not happy with you two being here. But she took a shine to the pair of you. She is watching over you. She will reveal herself in good time. She is,” He paused. “She has become Taylor's Guardian Spirit. Their other spirits in this town.. she is one of the good ones.” With that he stood up and left.

Things settled down after that. But one day, feeling a little bold, I walked into my room and eased down upon my bed. I then took a deep breath and in a loud booming voice called out.

“Okay! So, first you wanted me gone, now you want me to stay. Listen school's going to be starting soon. I don't want to come home from six hours of school to find my room in a mess. Also, please, don't start knocking my stuff around. And I know you might not like my taste in clothing. And that's cool and all, but please don't throw myself on the floor. And the whole knocking shit over, it has to stop.”

I felt a little silly talking to the air like that. But it felt better to get all that off my chest you know. Then something happened that I did not expect. The door to my closet opened and from the confines of my closet they stepped out a girl, she wore a long skirt, and what appeared to be a turtleneck. Her raven black hair was styled back in a classic french braid.

“Okay.” She said as she moved across the floor. “Lets talk.”

And so we did, and that is how I started developing a friendship with a ghost. Don't believe me, why don't you come over to my house so you can meet her? That is, if you're brave enough of course.