Day Four:

I think I might have to move out.

There’s a seventh ghost, and this one is worse than all the others. I’ve named him Figure, because that’s all he is. A shadow in the darkness. He’s fear incarnate. He’s the thing that you dream about that makes you call your dream a nightmare. 

This morning I decided that I was going to explore the attic. Mostly to determine where all the blood was coming from, if there was even a source to be discovered. I had barely made it to the fifth floor when a bat swooped out from behind a railing on the staircase above. It soared over my head, fluttering its broad wings and stirring up dust from the banisters. And just when he’d escaped down the hallway another and another followed. Dozens of them brushed the tip of my head, messing up my hair and scraping my scalp. My first thought was, immediately, that I now had to get a rabies shot and the town doctor wasn’t going to be happy to see me considering she was on the board for the historical society.

My second thought was, what are all of those bats flying away from?

That’s when I saw him emerge from the shadows, a shuddering mass of darkness. The shade separated from the recess near the railings and pulled itself into what was left of the light. The air around him became stiflingly hot, as if it were the flames of hell that lit his devilish eyes. And for a second I imagined I saw the outline of a skeleton hot against the coals as he drew closer. 

I lost my voice entirely. There weren’t words for what he was. I could only step backwards and hope that I didn’t fall perilously down the stairwell. My throat muddled through a cry of horror which barely phased him as he moved toward me.

My vision swirled and I swore that in the space where the light was most absent with his form I saw a young girl burning in flames. Her skin, waxlike, began to melt. I didn’t know that flesh could melt like that, falling off your bones like chocolate left in the sun. The fire cooked her organs until they burst, and in only a few seconds all that was left was charred bone.

I knelt down on one knee and shielded my face with my hands, but even with my eyes closed I could see her skeletal jaw locked in death, still silently screaming.

And finally when I didn’t think I could stand it any longer the vision faded, and when I stood Figure was gone.

I had miscounted the total number of ghosts, and maybe that’s what really startled me. Although it could have also been the terrifying hallucination. Yes, it was probably that.

That afternoon I called the town doctor, Gwendolyn Darnell, and set up an appointment for the rabies vaccine I more than likely need now. I’ve heard it’s a series of painful injections into your abdomen. Maybe that’s the price I need to pay for the type of hubris that leads you to the attic of a house that drips blood.

The good news is, if you can call it good news, is that I’ve already lost some weight. When a ghost steals half of your food and you are left with wandering the endless hallways and stairwells of your mansion for entertainment you tend to burn more calories than you input.

The bad news, if I had to choose just one piece of bad news, is that I’m almost out of cans of soup, so I’ll have to venture into town soon. I’m not exactly a chef, hence the cans of soup, but maybe Pilfer would be less likely to steal some blue cheese and foie gras. Unless ghosts actually enjoy foul tasting food better than mild. I’m not exactly sure what their predilections are. I wish there was a book on the topic. Maybe, when all this is over, I’ll be the one writing it.