DJ was deeply afraid of the dark. She always thought that the shadows were more than shadows. She thought that they were people. Certain people like her grandpap. But there's one catch.
DJ's grandpap is dead.
When Mrs. Frumpwen tucked DJ into bed on a cold November night, DJ would refuse to shut out the lights. 'Darla Joan Frumpwen,' Her mother said. 'Enough of this nonsense! You are almost ten years old!' DJ started to cry.
'But, Mommy! I can't let you shut out the lights! Grandpap will come!' She cried. Mrs. Frumpwen gave her a stern look. 'DJ, Grandpap has been dead for three months. He is in heaven, not in your bedroom,' She said as tears built up in her eyes.
'I know he is, Mommy! But I still see him,' DJ took her mother's hand and she sat on her bed. 'Please, DJ. Just get some rest. We have to fly to Maine to visit Grandma for Thanksgiving in one week. I will lie here, but as soon as you go to bed, I'm leaving,' Mrs. Frumpwen said. Her daughter fell right asleep fast, and she left.
On the airplane to Maine, DJ made her mother switch seats right before the plane lifted off. 'Why should I move, DJ'? Mrs. Frumpwen asked.
'Because he's here,' DJ said as she patted the seat next to her.
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