SAM
The man, in his fourties but appearing much younger, is a nice specimen of mankind, with good features and pronounced muscles. His hair is long and tied into a ponytail at the back and he wears designer clothes and shoes, something unusual for someone in this park.
The shoes have no traces of mud and I wonder how that is possible judging by the amount of rains that pours here every day.
What puzzles me most is how he managed to gain entrance to my locked room.
From my bed I can see the deadbolt still in place, evidence that the man didn't use the door to access the room.
I sit up in bed and rub my palms on my face to see better and the man is still there.
“Listen Sam. I am not a human being like you. I'm a spirit, what your boss calls ghosts. We are many in this park and we are
