something I just wrote

The woman, stiff and unnatural, was pressed up against the window. As if someone was holding her to the pane, her body was tense as it hit the glass. Her mouth, which was completely pressed up against the glass, opened in a hollow scream that we couldn’t hear, but feel in the marsh behind us. We watched, maybe not in horror, but certainly frozen in place. The woman slammed her fist against the window and her scream vibrated through the pane of glass and into Teresa’s bones. She arched her back and yelled once more, fighting against the unknown force holding her there.
We were very young. Teresa was seven and I was only nine. We stood at the edge of the garden, just before the expansive wetlands that seemed to grow more and more everyday started. There was a bench that the gardener carved out of an old which had been struck by lightening. I had decided to stand on it first and then Teresa climbed on my shoulders to get a better look.
“Look, there she is!”
Teresa pointed in excitement which caused me to slightly loose my balance. But when I caught a glimpse of the woman’s eyes, my balance returned. Teresa set her hands atop my head.
“Archie,” she whispered.
“Yes,”
“I wonder why she screams.”
“Ghosts scream because they are meant to walk the earth for eternity.”
“But,” she stopped to think.
The woman had just given her last bone vibrating scream and left the window.
“But she must have reason why she comes to that window, at this time.”
It was dark. Our mother was in the cottage, angry that we hadn’t come straight back from visiting Peter, the gardener. Teresa hopped down from my shoulders and we walked back home.