I live in a quiet part of town. I like my privacy. Not many people visit me, probably because I scare them away if they got too close. I guess I would consider myself an average ghost in an above average haunted house. Frankly, the key to a good haunting is the setting. Do up the decorations nicely, and half the work is done.
Never in my afterlife would I have imagined that a human would actually look for scares on purpose, so I was considerably surprised when that group pulled up outside my house a couple nights ago. They parked their white van by the roadside and immediately a couple of guys jumped out and started walking towards the house. Naturally, I followed my routine and initiated the first trap – I went down to the cellar, took a long stick, and started prodding the bats that were hanging on the ceiling. They flew out in dazed rush, straight into the path of those men. Usually that would be enough to draw some surprised screams and most people back off, but the men merely wiped off the guano and chuckled. One of them seemed to be speaking while the other filmed. “See that, Ben? Real spooky this place is, but there must be some scientific explanation for that!”
It was getting dark and I was rushing back up the stairs to activate the falling willows trap, when I heard the front door creak open. “Ghost, if you’re here, show yourself. We’re coming in”. I watched in horror as two other men barged into the room, somehow they had gotten past the squeaky patio. They were equipped with sensor equipment from head to toe, night vision goggles on, torchlights turned to full power mounted on their helmets. No time for that trap.
I ran to start the music. The gramophone was in the other room. If only I could reach it – sudden eerie music playing was bound to scare them off. I turned the corner and froze. There was Ben and his partner, with the camera aimed straight at me. He shouted “I’m picking up something”. A machine squealed. The sound was deafening. I ducked and dived for the gramophone. “What the Heck Man!” Both men spun round as the music started. The other party thundered in. “Who turned that damn thing on?”
“Not me. Was it you?”
“Heck no. But hey, AC/DC is my jam, bro.”
I was horrified. Who were these people and what did they want with me? I fled back up the stairs, terrified of their courage and lack of fear. From the attic I could hear one of them narrating “On this episode of ghost hunters, Larry and I investigate this old wooden mansion off Cherswick Avenue…We already see some heat signatures on our infrared scanners…Bats fly out unexpectedly….and music plays suddenly…”
It’s been an hour since I retreated up here. I can hear the four of them rummaging around the house. Sooner or later, they’re going to find the secret staircase that leads up to this crawlspace of mine. I don’t know how long I have. All I know is, when they open it, that will be my chance, my one chance to get out.