An Excerpt from At Home and Abroad: Prize-Winning Stories

The Gray Ghost

Dwight zipped up his thick winter coat and quietly pushed open the screen door. “Come on Shadow, let’s go,” he whispered.

He didn’t want to wake Grandpa or Mom. His mother wouldn’t want him leaving the house to explore, but he couldn’t sleep. He’d slept most of the way here last night while Mom drove from their house in Cleveland to Grandpa’s farm in Kentucky. Mom had said that she couldn’t bear to stay home this weekend because the house held too many memories. He frowned. If Dad were still alive, they’d be home now. Thinking about his father made him sad, and Mom wouldn’t want to see him crying this weekend. After all, it was Thanksgiving.

Dwight broke from his thoughts as Shadow’s warm wet tongue tickled his fingers. He rubbed the dog’s head. No matter what, he still had Shadow. Since Dad’s death two weeks ago, he had slept with the dog curled next to him at night. He cried into Shadow’s short, gray coat when the sadness and sense of loss took over his heart.

He closed the screen door behind him and stood on the porch. The crisp early-morning air tickled his nose. He knew he shouldn’t walk too far from the house. If he did, Mom would fret that he’d exerted himself and baby him, just because he had asthma. Shadow padded next to him, his pink nose sniffing the air…