I had just moved to Denver a few months prior.

It was November of 2023. I was sat talking to my friends over the phone after moving into the supposed house of a missing childs case, a Latino kid called Robin Arellano. I was quite interested in ghost stories and the ideas of supernatural experiences so I did some research on the missing cases and posters of the few boys who had disappeared in the sight of their very own town.

Although I hadn’t believed the rumours of their souls or ghosts, and I was in no means religious or spiritual, I just shrugged it off as rumours to scare little children of the past while I scrolled on my laptop, my groupchats call on speaker on my phone as they rambled about some minecraft server or something dumb like usual on these calls.

That was seven hours ago now.

Now its 3:37am on a Sunday night and im sat wide-eyed in my bed as the bloodied spirit of the Latino boy stood infront of me, his black hair down and flowing unlike his missing poster where he had a bandana.

“.. Yo?” He spoke, Mexican accent.