My back yard is haunted by a pile of children. Those who can see them, see a literal pile of giggling children, playing some made-up game that never reaches its conclusion.
My nephew Billy says he knows how to end the game, but won’t because he likes watching them. He’s learned their names and says hello to each every day.
One day my sister called and asked if Billy was still in my yard. I looked, but he was not there. We were searching the bushes when the neighbor girl yelled, “There he is, on top that pile of kids.”