Tag: Haunts

“It’s nice, nice…but a little quiet, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is, nowhere else in city you will get so much peace and calm. Relax after hustle bustle of daily life, you know.”

“I mean, it’s a little too quiet. Oppressive silence. Gloomy, even though there are many windows. And the air…somewhat stultified, as though it never stirs. Speaking of which, there’s no breeze, but that curtain, see, see?”

“The curtain is only one year old mister, I’m leaving it, no extra charge. Sweet water, only three hours power cut, you can keep inverter also.”

“There is a feeling one gets, especially in this bedroom here, whose window looks out on to that vacant ground filled with rubbish, a feeling that one is not alone.”

“Yes, yes, very safe locality, the neighbours all decent, you will make many friends. Any emergency, always people ready to help.”

“This feeling of desolation, this indefinable impression, as of the lingering memories of tragedy, and most unsettlingly, that silent, almost invisible but all too palpable presence, like the blurred, indistinct shape of a person seen in the corner of a room in twilight. There, do you see?”

“All electrical fittings are perfectly working, lights, fans, geyser in main bathroom, plenty of plug points, will install more if you want.”

“Your house is beautiful, sir, has every advantage one can think of, but I fear I cannot take it, for, though you are the owner, someone else possesses it.”

If you would like to invite someone from the other side, place a chair by your bedside before you turn out the lights and close your eyes with the undying hope that you will open them again in the morning. If you were to do this, something will, in 29 cases out of 234, occupy that chair during the night. Depending on your luck, you will see it or not. Some people see it and think it’s a shirt they must have left lying on the chair. Some wonder at the vividness of their dream and go back to sleep. Some turn the other way and succeed in convincing themselves that they hadn’t seen anything. Some people don’t see it at all; they are spook-blind. But if you see it, several questions follow. Should you wake up and switch on the light? What if this only ends up showing the wretched thing all too clearly? Should you reach out and touch it so you can say to yourself: see, you silly old ass, it’s only your bloody imagination? What if, when and if you have worked up the nerve to actually touch it, it turns around and gazes at you enquiringly? What if it knows exactly what you are thinking and is enjoying the thought hugely, and is sitting there all quiet and still only to torment you? What time is it? Is it the conventional ghost hour? If it’s not, does it mean that it’s just a shadow or a shirt or a phobia or is it a non-conformist ghost? Where’s the watch? Is it on the table? Are you brave enough to walk past the chair to the table? What if you said something loudly? Would it scare the ghost away? What do you mean, scaring a ghost? If anyone is doing any scaring, it’s the ghost, isn’t it? Is that the alarm? Oh good, that means that, according to Raman’s Law of Alarm Bells, you will now fall asleep, right? Right.