A bright sun rose over the town of Greenfield, bringing with it a warm day, a day of green trees and blue sky, a day of laughter and happy families and infinite possibilities, a day on which one wouldn't normally expect to encounter ghosts.

However, if one were to ask anyone in Greenfield where such ghosts might likely reside, they would no doubt speak of the house at the end of Randolph Street. They would make it clear that there are no such things as ghosts, of course, especially not in a happy little community such as Greenfield. But if there were, then that would be where to look for them.

They might even tell you the names of the ghosts: Mr. and Mrs. Tyler and Christina Garing, who once owned the house. Then they would once again emphasize that no ghosts lived anywhere near this charming little community.

Except for that last part, they would be absolutely correct.

On that bright, cheerful morning in the small town, signs of life had once again returned to the house after five years of emptiness. The garage door was open, revealing a modest, gray sedan and a mountain of boxes that one day may or may not be unpacked. The porch light remained on after dutifully standing watch all night. Even the "For Sale" sign that had become a permanent fixture of the yard had disappeared.

Inside, a musty aroma still lingered, but it was slowly being replaced by the normal smells of a lived-in house. Boxes lined the walls, but many of these stood open and half-unpacked. In the small kitchen off to the side of the living room, two people sat around the table, eating breakfast.

"Are you ready for your second day of school?" asked Jerry Wright. He was a handsome man in his mid thirties with nearly black hair and friendly eyes. He wore a charcoal gray business suit with a conservative tie and neatly pressed slacks.

"Sure," his daughter Theresa replied with a smile. "Are you ready for your second day of work?" She was a lovely girl of fourteen with curly, dark brown hair and pretty hazel eyes. She had fair skin and perfectly straight teeth that had recently come out of braces. She had a slightly upturned nose and cute little dimples that she always claimed made her look like a child. Nevertheless, she was a beautiful girl for her age.

"Well, I can't exactly call my job exciting," Jerry told her, "but it pays the bills. Look, Theresa, I hope you're not angry at me for making you move right in the middle of the school year. It's just that things are suddenly different after..."

She smiled at him again. "It's okay, Dad, really. I know it's just as hard for you as it is for me. We've both had to adjust."

"Thanks. I want you to know that I love you, especially now that everything's changed. You're the only thing that's kept me going."

"Oh dad!" she said with an embarrassed grin.

"I mean it," he told her. "Things don't always turn out the way we plan, but as long as I have a daughter like you to look after, I have a reason to keep at it."

Theresa got up off her chair, then moved around the table and sat down in her father's lap. She threw her arms around him and embraced him tightly.

"Thanks, honey," he told her. "I was just thinking that I needed a hug."

They held each other for almost a full minute, then Theresa once again returned to her seat.

"You know, some of the kids at school talked about this house," she said, changing the subject. "As soon as I mentioned where we live, they told me an interesting story."

"I know," Jerry replied. "The previous owners died tragically in the master bedroom. You know, stories like these tend to grow the more they're told. No doubt your friends said the place was haunted, and that's why it's taken five years to sell it."

"Yeah, they mentioned it was haunted, but mostly in a joking way," Theresa added. "Don't worry; I'm too old to believe in ghost stories."

"Is that so?" asked Mr. Tyler Garing, materializing out of thin air. If one could see him (which one couldn't), he would appear to be a young man in his early twenties, tall and strong with charming features and short brown hair. He wore a black tuxedo and neatly polished shoes.

Jerry and Theresa paid him no mind, for, being regular human folk, they could neither see nor hear him, nor detect his presence in any way.

"So did the kids at school mention how it happened?" Jerry asked his daughter.

"Just that they died mysteriously."

"There was nothing mysterious about it," Tyler insisted. "It was a gas leak. We suffocated to death."

"There was nothing mysterious about it," Jerry said. "It was a gas leak. I suppose they must have suffocated to death."

"Oh, are they talking about us?" asked Mrs. Christina Garing, appearing beside her husband. She was a picture of beauty, with long golden hair, deep green eyes, and ruby red lips. She wore a white dress and carried a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

"So you don't believe this house is haunted then?" Jerry asked with a teasing grin.

"Of course not, Dad," Theresa replied.

"Not particularly bright," Tyler commented.

"Be nice," Christina told him. "I didn't start believing in ghosts until I became one myself."

Tyler shrugged. "Good point," he conceded.

"Actually, I almost wish there were ghosts," said Theresa, staring down at the table in front of her. Her father glanced at her with a look of pity on his face. He sighed, then reached across the table and placed it on her hand.

"Theresa," he said. "Look. Your mother's not coming back. I know it's a harsh lesson to learn at your age, but sometimes things happen that are out of our control. I would like nothing more than to see her again, but that's just not going to happen. Better not to think about it."

"I know," she sighed. "I still miss her, though."

"Poor girl," Christina commented.

"Poor dad," Tyler replied. "Imagine losing the woman you love most in the whole world. At least you and I had the luxury of dying together. You know what they say about 'till death do you part'? Bunch of baloney. I died and I still can't get rid of you."

"Oh very funny," Christina laughed. "As usual, you have all the sensitivity of a rock. Can't you show a little sympathy?"

"You're right, and I'm sorry. I shouldn't be making jokes at a time like this, even if they can't hear us. It's just that when you die on what should have been the happiest day of your life, you can't help but develop a certain degree of cynicism."

"Hey, I died on my wedding day too, you know," Christina said.

Theresa stood up and took her dishes to the sink, passing right through Christina as she did so. There was no indication that either of them felt anything at the contact. Tyler watched as the girl placed her dishes in the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse them off.

"I know that look," Christina told him. "You used to give me that look when I was alive."

Tyler tore his gaze away from the girl and glanced at his wife. "I still do, when you're not looking," he grinned.

"Well, knock it off. She's just a teenager."

"I know that. It's just ... I don't know. I guess that's the thing I regret most of all about dying when we did. I mean, if it had only happened the next day."

Christina rolled her eyes. "You've been dead for five years, and that's still all you think about? Typical man!"

"All we think about," Tyler corrected her. "I notice you stayed behind too."

"Somebody's got to keep you out of trouble," she said with a grin.

"But seriously, I've seen enough movies and television shows about ghosts to know the folklore. A person who dies only becomes a ghost if he has something tying him to this world, some unfinished business. I think it's pretty obvious what it is in our case."

"I know," she said. "I'm never going to live this down, am I? I wanted to wait until our wedding night because I wanted it to be special."

"And now we'll never get the chance. But look, I don't blame you for it. I love you too much to let something like this come between us. I just bring it up because we have to face the fact that until we do it, we can't progress to the next world."

"And how do you propose we do that?" asked Christina, reaching out for her husband's hand. It passed right through. "You see? We can't even touch each other."

"I wonder..." Tyler said, his eyes once more returning to the pretty girl at the sink.

By this time, Theresa was finished rinsing her dishes, so she headed upstairs to her bedroom. She returned a moment later carrying a backpack full of school books.

"Bye, Dad," she said, giving her father a peck on the cheek. Then she disappeared out the front door.

Jerry left a few minutes later, leaving the ghosts alone in the house to ponder their fate.

That evening, after father and daughter had returned home and they finished with dinner, Theresa decided she wanted to take a bath. She headed upstairs and entered the bathroom, oblivious to the eyes that followed her. She turned on the water to start filling the tub, then slipped quietly out of her clothes.

For a fourteen-year-old girl, she had a beautiful body. It was perhaps a little on the skinny side, but she was developing in all the right places. Her breasts, though still small, fit her frame perfectly, capped by dark, round nipples. Her hips were starting to grow into the curves of womanhood, though she still had a long way to go. She had a modest growth of hair between her legs, covering a pretty little pussy.

Tyler grinned as he watched her. He was no pedophile, but he could certainly appreciate the beauty of an adolescent girl. He had gone through a peeping-tom stage about the time he hit puberty, but had grown out of it as he matured. Now, with no fear of being spotted, he found it all too easy to slip back into his old ways.

Theresa slipped into the tub, sighing as she let the warm water caress her body. She lay back so that only her head and breasts peeked out from the surface, closing her eyes and relaxing.

Christina materialized beside her husband, an amused grin on her face. "Why am I not surprised to find you here?" she asked him. "You always were a bit of a pervert."

Tyler shrugged. "Believe me, if we had died without our clothes on and you ended up nude for all eternity, I wouldn't give her a moment's notice. But no, we had to suffocate to death before we had even changed out of our wedding clothes. Now I'm denied even the sight of your body. So cut me some slack."

Christina laughed. She had never been the jealous type, but she loved to tease him whenever she caught him looking at some scantily-dressed girl. That had been one of the hallmarks of their relationship. They trusted each other enough that they didn't mind them looking elsewhere; there was no chance that either of them would stray. That was particularly true now that it was physically impossible to cheat on each other.

She glanced down at the girl in the bath, letting her eyes run all over her beautiful form. Christina had had a body that beautiful when she was that age, and in fact, it had matured into a gorgeous shape by the time she died. What she wouldn't give to be able to return to that shape, to once more feel herself in a body like that!

She sighed. "It's too bad her mother died," she commented.

"Tragic," said Tyler.

"No, I mean, too bad for us."

Tyler glanced at his wife. "I don't follow you," he said.

"Well, now there's only a father and daughter left in this house. If it were a husband and wife, or even a boyfriend and girlfriend ... I mean, a couple of people who might ... um ... get together..."

Tyler nodded. "So you're thinking the same thing I am," he remarked. "Do you think it would really work? I mean, I've never tried it before. We don't know if it's even possible. Or even if we could, I don't know if that would be enough to lift our curse."

"I think it would," Christina said. "It may not be our own bodies, but I'm sure that finally experiencing that together would relieve us of our burden."

"You know, you may be right," he said with an excited tone to his voice.

"Wait a minute," Christina told him. "Let's not get too excited here, because there's still a big problem. We would need a man and a woman--"

"Which we have," he interrupted.

"She's his daughter!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"It's not my first choice, I'll admit. But we have to use what we've got."

"That's just sick. I can't believe you're even contemplating this. I'm not going to ruin their lives over this."

"Who says anything about ruining their lives? It's obvious that they care a lot for each other."

"Forget it, Tyler. We'll just have to find another way."

"Another way? We're poltergeists, Christina. We're doomed to haunt this house forever, or until we can find some way to fulfill our desires. We can't just go out and shop around. We either use what we have available, or stay like this for all eternity."

"No way."

"Fine," he shrugged. "It may be a moot point anyway. We don't even know if we can use their bodies like that."

Christina glanced down at the girl in the tub again. "Well, that much at least I'm willing to test."

"Now don't do something stupid," Tyler told her. "You may end up having her believe in ghosts after all. And the next thing you know, they'll move out of this place, word will get around that it's haunted, and no one will ever want to live here again. Then where will we be?"

"Don't worry. I'll be careful."

Christina hovered over the tub, then lowered her body as if sitting in Theresa's lap. For a few seconds she just sat there, then closed her eyes and leaned back. As Tyler watched in fascination, Christina's ghostly form disappeared entirely inside of the girl.

For a while nothing happened. Then, slowly, the girl's arm raised up out of the water. It remained there for about ten seconds, then lowered back down.

Suddenly, Christina emerged from the girl, and took her place at her husband's side, an excited look in her eyes. "Did you see that?" she exclaimed. "Did you see me lift her arm?"

"I saw it," he replied.

"Oh Tyler, it was the most wonderful feeling in the world! I had forgotten how good it feels to just soak in the bath like that. It was so warm and comforting. I could feel all of her nerve endings, all over her skin. I could feel her body wrapped around me, just like it was before I died."

"That good, huh?"

She smiled with delight. "You know, I think we can actually do this! She didn't even know I was controlling her. Maybe she thought it was strange that she was lifting her arm out of the water like that for no reason, but I'll bet in fifteen minutes she'll have already forgotten about it."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he smiled.

"It's going to work. It has to work! We can finally move on."

"Now wait a minute," said Tyler. "I thought you were opposed to the idea."

"But that was before I knew what it felt like just being alive again. Just imagine how great it will feel to perform the act that will release us! I mean, it will be using different bodies, but who cares? You'll look different, but inside it will still be you. And I know you won't mind that I'll be using a body that looks like that." She nodded toward Theresa.

"And it doesn't bother you that they're father and daughter?"

"A little, but this is an opportunity that we just can't pass up."

"Okay, then let's do it," Tyler agreed. "But when?"

"Tonight, after they've gone to bed. We'll take control of their bodies, and I'll come to his room."

"It sounds like a whole lot of fun."

"I'm still worried, though," Christina commented. "I just wonder if there's any way we can do this without hurting them. Imagine what their reaction will be if we use their bodies in that way against their will."

"Hmm ... good point," said Tyler. "Well, I suppose there's a solution to that as well. What if we do it without them knowing about it?"

"And how to you propose we do that?"

"We act like we're them. I'll be Jerry Wright, and you'll be his daughter Theresa. We'll take it slow, start out with a little cuddling and then build to the main event. They'll think it was something they wanted, not something they were forced to do."

"You really think it will work?" she asked with eyes wide.

"Absolutely."

"It's settled then," she said with a grin. "Tonight we'll finally consummate our marriage."

Jerry Wright lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about his recently departed wife. He missed her a lot, and at times like these, he felt particularly lonely.

Theresa reminded him a lot of her. She had the same hair and the same eyes, and the same affectionate manner that he loved so much. Sometimes when he looked at his daughter, he could almost imagine that it was his wife.

He often dreamed of her, of her smiling face and gentle caresses. Sometimes in those dreams, mother and daughter merged into one, and he couldn't tell which she was supposed to be. Then he would wake, and find his bed empty, and remember the tragedy that had taken her from him.

He hadn't lied when he told his daughter that she was the only thing that kept him going. Memories of his wife still pained him, but Theresa's presence was always a comfort. Whenever she hugged him, for a moment at least, everything was all right again.

He was still lying there awake when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. Theresa opened it and stepped in, wearing a long nightshirt.

"Daddy?" she asked sweetly. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" It wasn't the first time she had slept in his bed since her mother had passed away, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Her use of the word "daddy" surprised him; she hadn't called him that in years. But he didn't mind; in fact, he actually liked to hear her call him that.

Are you thinking about your mother like I am? he wanted to ask her, but for some reason those weren't the words he spoke. Instead, he merely said, "Of course, honey."

Theresa smiled, then skipped over and climbed under the covers with him. Usually it was enough for them to sleep side by side, but this time for some reason, he rolled over to face her and slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. She responded by cuddling up next to him.