The door slammed, echoing down the long hallway.

Strange. I thought the door was closed. It was an old and large home built by my late father. My wife said it was haunted. She felt my father's presence in every room. I did not get that feeling, which in some ways saddened me.

Reluctantly, I broke away from my project at the back of the home and ventured through the kitchen. I told myself I was not afraid but picked up a hefty rolling pin on the way and tentatively, turned right into the hallway. Nothing or no one in sight. My weight created a familiar creak from the floorboards . Surely anyone entering would have been burdened by the same creaking and would have been easily detected.

Nevertheless, I continued my search, wrenching open the side door running off the hallway, hoping to surprise anyone in there. No one . My heartbeat slowed while my mind was berating me for being so anxious. Why on earth was I on edge? I did not believe in Ghosts.

Scanning the room I moved towards an old desk my father used for business and pleasure. The desk contained many items but most importantly a diary containing entries and letters under his hand. The diary was still there but rather strangely it was not in the position I last recalled. Compelled to remove the diary I found myself unfolding the letters like I was searching for some long lost treasure. Why?

I began to read and became uneasy. My father had been a tough man. A fair man but not one to express his feelings. A hug now and again and a pat on the head for a good job done. Never an "I love you" said or written.

The urge to cry became overwhelming. There were three letters he had written to me while I was living away from the home. They were precious to me because they were rare but now, somehow and without worldly explanation there was more. At the foot of each of the letters there appeared those words I had longed for during his life.

I LOVE YOU.

A ghostly entry. My treasure found.