The Sixth Sense

Tap.... The moment I step into the school, I feel them. This is the third school I’ve entered, and it’s always the same—they’re here. We call them ghosts, spirits, wandering souls. They are everywhere. Some linger in the shadows, barely noticeable. Others stand in plain sight, blending in like ordinary people. And then there are the watchers—the ones whose envious eyes track our every move, as if they yearn to steal our lives. Why can I see them? That’s something even I can’t fully explain. I don’t just sense their presence; I see them as clearly as I see the living. I hear their whispers, their cries, their anger. Most of them are harmless, just lost fragments of existence. But some… some are dangerous. They know I can perceive them, and that makes me a target. To them, I’m a plaything, a curiosity in a world that pretends they don’t exist. I sigh quietly, suppressing the urge to glance at the shadows. Ignoring them is the only way to keep my secret. No one can know about this… curse. My father is the only one who knows. He calls it a gift, but it feels like anything but. My father, Mark Powel, is a detective. He found me when I was just a child during a business trip. He hadn’t planned to stop, but something pulled him toward my house. He said he “felt” something was wrong. He was right. The house was a nightmare—blood everywhere, my family slaughtered. No one had been able to find me until he searched deeper. Under my parents’ bed, huddled and silent, I waited. He was the one who pulled me out. From the moment he saw me, he said he knew I was special. He adopted me, raised me as his own, and gave me the family I’d lost. He doesn’t see or hear spirits like I do, but his instincts are sharp. He knows when something isn’t right, and that’s what makes him such a good detective. His colleagues trust his gut. We both know it wasn’t a human who murdered my family. It was something far worse—a demon. But without proof, the case remains unsolved. Only we know the truth. “Louisa…” “LOUISA!” I snap out of my thoughts, startled. Crap.!! The secretary is glaring at me, irritation etched on her face. “The headmaster is ready for you,” she says curtly before turning back to her computer. Another sigh escapes me as I stand and walk toward the office. This is the third school I’ve attended in the past few years, thanks to my father’s “job.” That’s the excuse we give. The truth? We move every time the spirits become too much. Once they realize I can see them, they don’t leave me alone. They follow me, harass me, until I can’t ignore them anymore. And when I react, it starts to affect everyone around me. Some spirits just want to be noticed, to tell their stories. Others are filled with rage and lash out, harming anyone in their path. “Good morning, Louisa Powel,” the headmaster greets me as I enter the office. His smile is warm and welcoming, clearly an attempt to put me at ease. I sit across from him, forcing a polite smile of my own. He thinks I’m here because of my father’s work. He has no idea about the real reason. Maybe this move will help. Maybe this time, I’ll find a way to control the chaos. I am Louisa Powel. I’m 16 years old, and this is my story. The story of my sixth sense.