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By Adrienne Rozells

The noise outside my window used to scare me as a child. I heard spirits screaming as they flew down my street, and you couldn’t hear it from anywhere else in the house, so I thought they were screaming directly at me. My mom assured me it was only the wind. She always has the scientific answer. Eventually I got used to it.

The sound became familiar. Most nights were quiet but the nights when the ghosts moaned and groaned and serenaded me were special. I’d stay up and listen, with my covers underneath my chin, and my eyes closed. I kept them closed for better imagining. What these ghosts might look like, in their purples and blues and swirling shades.

I never did peer out the window. I never saw proof, or simple leaves rustling in the wind.

Not everyone believes in a soul, but not everyone has to.

Adrienne Rozells holds a BA in Creative Writing from Oberlin College. She works as co-EIC at Catchwater Magazine, and her poetry and flash fiction can be found in Kissing Dynamite; Sledgehammer Lit; and The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls. She has two novels scheduled for release in 2021. Keep up on Twitter @arozells, or Instagram @rozellswrites. Her favorite things include strawberries, her dogs, and extrapolating wildly about the existence of Bigfoot.