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 ^{(it's beta!)}

I’ve never been too worried about ghosts, honestly. Most of the dead are pretty friendly, and most of the others learn to mind their manners quick enough, if you go about it right. Most people don’t see them, anyways – proof enough that they have the taste to not wander around wailing about their misfortunes to anyone who’ll listen, unlike the living.

It would happen that my friend was a real estate agent, and held opinions highly averse to my own when it came to “the supernatural.” Which was why, on one fine Saturday morning, she dragged me with her to an abandoned and clearly haunted house in the middle of the woods, rather than let me sleep in and watch the news. Because she was a chicken. And, in her opinion, I wasn’t.

The genuine archetype, my friend – I’m sure you’ve seen her kind – tight, dark blue dress suit, blond hair cut into a perfect bob, black pumps. Perfectly rational and unadventurous, my friend. Her name was Alice. I didn’t really like Alice, but Alice liked me, and she had her moments.

This was not one of them.

At least she had the good grace to get me a mocha for the road, and her car was comfortable, felt like an airplane, probably because hers was new and a Subaru and mine was old and had started to make weird clicking noises, which was bad. And it was only an hours drive, but it seemed to drag on much longer than necessary.

“It looks like it’s going to rain,” she muttered.

“It probably will,” I answered, aware of the direction the conversation was headed.

“It’s like an omen.”

“Rain’s a bad thing?”

“It’s creepy,” she shivered, though the car was roasty. “The weather’s been weird lately. What if it starts thundering? While we’re inside? Oh, I hope I don’t scream…” I shook my head. She would scream even if the sky cleared, doubtless. “I can’t believe they’re sending me out, you know, of everyone. It’s like they’re doing it on purpose.” She paused to flick a perfectly-manicured hand at her hair, for sake of dramatics. “They’re so heartless, you know?” She waited for a moment, hoping for me to say something, to agree and maybe talk trash about a couple of them. But I held my peace. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what she liked about my company. “Anyways, the last person who lived there hasn’t been seen in, oh, I don’t remember, at least fifty years. Not dead, not moved away, just gone. And for some reason no one really thought about it until just recently.”

“Whoever lived there must not have gone out much.” She shrugged.

“I don’t know. Seriously, it was like it was set up so no one would notice. Like, they had access to the local electricity, but they never turned it on. And their lawyer was local, too, but then he died. That’s how we found out about it – his partner’s son, you know, James Fletcher? He was going through old paperwork a few weeks ago.”

“What about the will? Did he find it?”

“Yeah…” Alice’s tone turned reluctant. “Yeah, James said that the sole inheritor of the estate was a boy. I don’t remember the exact name, I think it was Richard… something. But he died in 1917, age twenty.” She stopped expectantly. I waited, and she waited. Finally I spoke up.

“And?”

“The will was written in 1946. I mean, if you were going to give somebody everything, you oughta know them well enough to be able to say whether they were alive or not. It just doesn’t make any sense! And what’s with all of the secrecy?” Her hand banged against the steering wheel. I took a sip from my mocha, allowing this to digest.

“You’re right, a lot of this doesn’t make sense… But I will tell you one thing.” I set my drink down in the cup holder, stretching out my legs. “Some people will do anything to keep themselves off the grid.”

“What, like you?” I rolled my eyes, mostly because she was perfectly serious.

“Not having a social life and disappearing off of the face of the planet are two very different things.” I looked out the window, watching the trees grew thicker. Alice slowed the car as it turned off onto a dirt road. “Of course, the original owner of the property was probably a pagan, who stole the town’s children and turned them into zombies and locked them in various rooms of the house hoping that some day someone would come and set them free so they could eat everyone’s brains and release demons into our world and—”

“That’s not funny.”

“I think it’s hysterical. Up til now poor giant spiders and eyeless cats have only dreamed of abducting cute blonde realtors such as yourself. Just lucky I’m with you.” Anyone else wouldn’t have taken me seriously.

“I really am glad you’re coming with me, Tina.” I glanced over at her. She sounded surprisingly sincere. The guilt from my rant was starting to settle in. “I can deal with regular people, but I… I mean, out in the middle of nowhere…” Her stress meter was growing unusually high.

“Do you want me to put the radio on?”

“Sure,” relief filled her voice instantly. Anything to not have to think about an abandoned house that could or could not be inhabited by zombie children of dubious nature. If I were her, I’d be more worried about falling through rotted out floorboards. “What do you want to listen to?” I didn’t answer, and she didn’t expect me to. Her fingers were already punching buttons.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the house. It was very picturesque, this plantation-style house, white paint peeling, set into a neat little frame of trees. The tulips that lined the long porch were still blooming, which was no surprise. Plants that grow from a bulb rather than a seed find it difficult to die forever. The clouds had started to drizzle lightly, and there was a little bit of a wind, the half-hearted, lethargic kind that doesn’t do much for long periods of time, then cuts through your clothes out of nowhere.

Alice walked up the stairs ahead of me, looking up and down the porch. Some of the wooden chairs had been left out. She stepped up to the door, fumbling with the keys, while I stood back a little. For some reason, I can’t explain why, I had the urge to turn around, make sure everything was alright behind us. As if it wouldn’t be. As if I’d turn around and the car would be smashed, or there would be a pair of lamp-eyes in the woods, or something lame like that. It couldn’t hurt, right? Just a peek?

So, as I heard the clicking as the key went into the lock, I half-turned my face, just casually, to check. Of course, there was absolutely nothing. Just the dirt and the trees and the Subaru. But as I turned my head I know I heard something, I know I heard it because Alice stiffened beside me, and bit back a strangled shriek. It was the sound of a crash, and it had definitely come from the direction I had looked.

“Ummm…” Alice’s hand was frozen on the key in the door. “What was that?”

“Trees fall regardless of whether or not someone’s there to hear them,” I whispered, not because I believed it, but because I knew it was my job; it was why I wasn’t home in my jammies, still asleep. Tina: the voice of reason.

“Right,” Alice whispered back. “Let’s go.” She pushed the door open. It did not creak; rather, in slid right open silently, as if on freshly-greased hinges. There was darkness, but not true darkness; light still filtered in through the cracks in the drapes, creating a twilight-like atmosphere. But Alice had to use her flashlight, a big black metal one that could double as a club. She stepped in, and I followed her, standing to the side a little bit so my eyes would adjust.

“Why are we here, exactly? Are we meeting an appraiser or something?”

“No, that’s not until next week. I guess I’m just… getting the lay of the land…?” Her beam swept over fine wood floors and rolled-up carpets, and furniture covered in white sheets. I was having that feeling again, like something was off. But I dismissed it.

“Do you know where the bathroom might be?” I asked.

“I’m sorry?” She stared at me like I had just taken the Lord’s name.

“You did buy me a mocha, remember? Nobody’s here, and it’ll be a prime opportunity to check out the condition of the plumbing, right?” I scanned the room – parlor, rather – for the various exits and which ones were most likely to yield results. I chose the staircase far across the room to the right, and started walking towards it. The wooden panels beneath our feet were surprisingly sturdy, despite their age.

“Ooooh, but the water will be all orangey and gross!” Another thought hit her. “And I’ll be out here! Alone!” Hysteria hit a shrill note.

“You can stand outside the door, if you want,” I muttered. “Or if something happens, you can scream really loudly, and I’ll know.” I set my gloved hand on the railing, and admired briefly the carvings in the posts that supported it. Cherubs and flowers and suchlike. And then I realized it, that so-obvious wrong thing, and kept my voice even. “Alice?”

“Yes?”

“Who else has been here before us?”

“Umm… Well, I know James came once, you know, to see if anyone was here. And then he came again with Tommy, and they actually came inside that time. Maybe a few times since then.” Tommy was the local sheriff who had been around forever and had held his position even longer, and often gave the impression of someone who would never let anything tip him over properly.

“I see.” I down at the railing again, and ran my hand along it. Perfectly smooth, charming craftsmanship. No dust. Not even on the grinning faces of the cherubs; no cobwebs clinging lifelessly at the posts. Even the white sheets looked fresh and new. I shook my head. If someone was living there, then it would have been settled when James came the first time. And there wasn’t any point in saying anything, if it would just get Alice worked up.

Maybe James had talked to the people from the antique shop and had them do some cleaning, and tend to the furniture before the auction or whatever happened. Yeah. That sounded credible. Of course he would do that – the estate included more than just the property itself.

I half-agreed with this possibility. But there was one small problem with it: the smell. If someone had come in, cleaned the whole house top to bottom, and then left – locking the house up tightly behind them – then it would have smelled like lemons, and chemicals. The house didn’t even smell musty like old shut-up houses usually do. It didn’t smell like anything at all, which was honestly bizarre. But, as with all good thoughts, I set it aside and waited for the answers to come to me.