2022 Advent Challenge

Ever since her first term at boarding school, holidays at Anita's house had never been the same. Not because of her lessons, her teachers, her school friends (few as they were), or anything else directly related to the school itself... but rather, one particular friend she had made there. One whose very existence had permanently changed her life.

Then again, she supposed William was a big part of the school as well – after all, he had been cruelly trapped there for fifteen years by a witch whose sick sense of humour led her to imprison him inside an all-girls' school. Being invisible to most people, William might have decided to turn the situation to his advantage, but he never did. He was a gentleman through and through. He had tried quite hard to avoid close proximity with the students.

That being said, a few had noticed his presence over the years, and those moments never led to good reactions; who could remain calm when confronted with a supernatural being?

Well, Anita had. The first person in the school who saw William and didn't run screaming like a banshee. She'd moved past the initial shock of encountering a ghost, and found a boy so lonely, so vulnerable, so gentle, that her heart immediately went out to him.

More than a year passed, and he was her best friend in her world. She might have freed him from the curse, but he never went far.

---

Last Christmas, Anita hadn't been certain that her ghostly friend would accompany her home. He was an enigma, often disappearing for days at a time, and though she trusted him to return, she often felt lonely. Somehow, the concept of William being in her family home had felt odd. As if it wasn't meant to happen.

Nonetheless, he'd appeared in front of her during the train ride home and, despite his misgivings, had promised to stay with her over Christmas break. It had ended up being one of the most peculiar, yet wonderful, Christmases of Anita's life.

This year, as she stepped on the train to return home, she had no doubts that William would join her again. At least, she told herself that she had no doubts. In reality, she couldn't help feeling a rush of relief when he materialised, all grey-toned and soulful-eyed, in her compartment.

'Merry Christmas, Miss Leigh,' he said formally, giving her the faintest hint of a smile.

'William,' she said. 'Oh, there are so many things I must show you this year.'

'Like what?' he asked, tilting his head with undeniable curiosity.

'Last year, we didn't even play any games. My family always plays board games at Christmas. I know you can't play with them, but we can play together, in my room, while they're not around.'

The joy of simply being included in something shone past the melancholy air that never quite left him.

'That sounds lovely,' he replied. 'I look forward to it.'

---

The train pulled into a station adorned with lights, bunting, and a man dressed as Santa Claus handing out gifts to children arriving home. Anita melted into the crowd stepping off the train and lost sight of William, only realising later that he'd purposely disappeared to avoid any risk of someone on the platform seeing him. Even though most couldn't, there were always exceptions; Anita herself was living proof.

They reunited on the walk home and chatted for parts of it, though Anita had to exercise caution when other people were around, lest she be considered insane.

'Your family are very nice,' he said as they neared the house. 'They remind me a little of my own family from the past. I wish I had been able to tell them what happened to me...'

William could rarely bring up the subject of his family without his tone becoming morose. Anita hoped that perhaps being around her own parents might help him to focus more on the fonder memories, instead of how it all ended.

'Come on,' she said to him, lifting her skirts and quickening her pace. The house was now in sight, and the Christmas spirit was surging in her.

---

Laughter and conversations were shared, Anita's parents delighted to spend time with their daughter again. After a hearty meal, she retreated upstairs to her tiny bedroom. There was a small bed, a single bookshelf, and a few potted plants. Her family had never been able to afford much. But she loved what she had.

'Let me introduce you to some of the games we play at Christmas,' she said, going to the bookshelf to retrieve two large, flat boxes. 'This is called Scrabble, and this is Monopoly.'

'I think I've heard of those,' said William, who was sitting cross-legged under the window. 'But I don't exactly know the rules.'

'Well, Scrabble is a game about making words on the board using letter tiles. And Monopoly is about buying property and earning money.'

'Real money?'

She shook her head and, opening the game box, pulled out a single banknote. 'Monopoly money. It's only for use in the game.'

'Ah,' he said, looking faintly embarrassed. She ignored this and began to empty the contents of the box.

'We really need more players,' she said, 'but since we can't do that, we'll simply control two pieces each.'

'I see,' said William, who was clearly trying to follow everything as best as he could.

Amused, Anita decided that the best way to make him understand was to explain the rules as they went. So she started a game, letting William choose which pieces he wanted. Out of everything in the box, the dice seemed to be the only thing he was familiar with. As they progressed around the board, she told him about buying properties and charging other players rent when they landed on his owned spaces. At first, the too-nice William was a little reluctant to make Anita pay him, but eventually he settled into the rhythm of the game.

They ended up playing two games of Monopoly and three games of Scrabble before Anita's parents called her down. Though loathe to leave her friend, she concluded that she probably ought to spend more time with them, given she was away at school most of the year.

'We must play again later,' she said, hurrying to put the games away.

William inclined his head and smiled faintly. She could detect the aura of genuine contentment around him: one so rarely felt. 'Of course. I'd like that.'