Henry and his father went on a camping trip once. Their tent was next to a river, and there was no one else around for at least a thousand miles! When night fell, Henry’s father built a small fire and told Henry some ghost stories. Henry was captivated by them, and when the fire burned out and they went inside their tent to sleep, Henry stayed wide awake. He wasn’t scared, he was spell-bound. He thought maybe if he stayed up late enough, he’d be able to see a ghost right there that night.

So when his father was sound asleep, Henry carefully unzipped the tent and slipped out. Henry walked to the edge of the water and just listened. There was nothing else he could have done, because it was so dark. There were crickets, to be sure, but there were other larger sounds as well. Henry could hear things slipping into the water, crawling around in the brush and trees. Henry started to turn in place, looking carefully for ghosts. It was dim, and although the stars were out more than what they were back at his house, the trees kept most of the light out. But of course a ghost would be glowing, and therefore easy to spot.

Henry looked around as best he could, and waited a long time for one to show up, but nothing happened.

Henry sighed. As he sighed, his chin dropped to his chest and saw his own limbs and body in the muted starlight. He smiled and said, ‘Oh, there you are.’