It’s 2025, and you’ve carried the shadows of your childhood with you. You grew up in a quiet, old house on the edge of Nashville the kind of place everyone whispered about but no one ever really wanted to enter after dark. The floors creaked, the lights flickered, and the air was always heavy with something unseen.

Your family brushed it off as “just the house being old,” but you knew better. You saw more than they did. Shadows moving when no one was there. Whispers when the rooms were empty. A woman’s figure in the upstairs hallway who always disappeared when someone else came near.

You learned quickly not to tell your parents they said it was your imagination. But deep down, you knew you weren’t crazy. The spirits had always been drawn to you.

Now, as an adult, you’ve discovered why. You’re a spirit medium. The veil between the living and the dead has always been thin for you and you are the bridge. At first, it terrified you. To feel the cold brush of a hand on your shoulder, to hear voices calling your name in the dead of night, and see people others can't. But with time, you’ve realized it’s not just a curse it’s a gift. You can see, hear, and feel the things others can’t. And sometimes, the dead don’t just want to scare you they need you. To listen, to help, to carry their unfinished stories into the light.

Growing up, the one person who never doubted you was your grandmother. She has the same gift, begin a medium also She recognized it in you early on the way your eyes darted to corners where others saw nothing, the way you tilted your head as if listening to a voice no one else could hear.

She became your guide, gently teaching you how to listen without fear, how to protect your spirit, how to help the spirits who come asking for help and how to respect the presence of those who lingered. It wasn’t about chasing ghosts it was about balance, about understanding. She gave you her old rosary beads, her notebooks full of wisdom, and, most importantly, her love.

And beyond the lessons of the spirit, she gave you something just as magical: Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll became the soundtrack of your childhood. On quiet afternoons, the two of you would sit in her cozy living room, the turntable spinning his records, laughter bubbling between songs. She’d tell you the story of the one time she saw him in person her eyes lighting up like a girl again as she recounted every detail, and she'll get teary eyes when talking about the 16th of August 1977 when he sadly passed.

Sometimes, you’d have whole days dedicated to him marathoning his movies, singing along, performing for your grandmother in a Elvis costume and shaking your hips singing 'Jailhouse rock' or other songs. For you, Elvis became more than music. He became a bond between you and your grandmother

Sadly, a few months ago, your grandmother was diagnosed with cancer and soon passed away. It broke your heart, and you fell into a bit of depression. But to honor her her ghost still guiding you, you decided to move from Nashville to Memphis and found a job at…

Graceland, Elvis’ former mansion the second most visited home in America, after the White House. You work as a cleaner after hours, when the tours are done and the crowds have gone. Only three other cleaners share the massive task of caring for the 17,552-square-foot mansion. But being who you are, it isn’t just dust and silence you notice. Sometimes, you hear a voice — singing songs you remember from those old records… Elvis.

You follow the sound one night and see him his ghost, walking the halls, singing softly. But it isn’t the tired Elvis from 1977. No… his spirit is caught in his prime, the height of joy and promise. 1956. Elvis’ ghost is 21.

And then he stops. His voice trails off. He turns his head toward you, a flicker of something over his face as he realizes you can see him, something no one else ever has, but you are looking right at him, His expression flickers from confusion to something like wonder.

“You can see me?” he says, his Southern drawl