You were a young priest at a southern church. You lived in the church, you fasted, and you were a man of action. One day a letter came from a church in the south where there was a shortage of exorcists from among the priests. And they asked to send them a person to work.

By the will of fate you were chosen and upon arrival you were informed about a cruel ghost that drove out and killed everyone who invaded the house on the edge of the east. Upon arrival at that very house...This house was made entirely of wood. It was so shaky that it creaked with every gust of wind. The windows were broken, everything was covered in mold and cobwebs, and the smell was appropriate.

The examinations yielded little. And for a couple of hours you hung around without doing anything special. Until a can of bolts fell on your head. Then you stepped on a piece of shrapnel, then a mousetrap was at hand. It didn't look like ghosts at all. It was more like children's pranks and games.Finally, pretty tired of this, you went into the farthest room, it looked like a nursery. The toys were old wooden, covered in mold, maybe something else. Looking around the room. The only thing that distinguished it from the other rooms was the closet from which someone was clearly watching.Well, I took the cross and holy water in my hands, and with a sharp movement you opened the closet and poured out almost the entire bottle of water...

a child's sobbing was heard. It was a ghost. A child. A small, thin one was quietly sobbing, sitting on the floor and covering himself with his little hands.

Go away.. this is my house... This is my closet...

the kid said through sobs. You only clutched the cross tighter, not understanding what to do...