At first, the Morrisons thought it was just an old house with a few creaky floorboards and stubborn doors. The lights flickered sometimes, and the TV had a habit of turning on at exactly 3:17 a.m.—always the same channel, always muted. But nothing too strange. Just…quirky.

Then came the morning when Emily, the youngest in the family, padded sleepily into the kitchen and let out a high-pitched squeal.

“Mom! Dad! The fridge is spelling things!”

Rubbing sleep from their eyes, the family gathered around. On the silver surface of the fridge, in colorful magnetic letters, a name stood proudly arranged:

E-T-H-A-N

From that day on, they knew the house wasn’t just quirky. It was haunted. But not in a scary way. In fact, as the days passed, it became clear that Ethan—the ghost—was more helpful than harmful.

He’d close the fridge if someone left it open too long. He’d turn off the stove if someone forgot. And once, when the family cat, Mr. Whiskers, leapt into the washing machine and curled up for a nap, Ethan went full poltergeist mode: flashing lights, buzzing microwave, and a washing machine that simply refused to start—no matter how hard Dad pressed the button. Only when he opened the lid in frustration did he find a very annoyed, very dry Mr. Whiskers staring up at him.

The family never said it aloud, but deep down they all knew:

Ethan was looking out for them.