"WE HAVE A GHOST."

Something strange was going on, The house wasn't selling...

Julie from Oregon was both a colleague and a friend. She drove a Prius and was a several years older than me. Still had a strong American accent and was into some weird mind-improving cult thing. You know, the kind where you go to a weekend course and you sit with several hundred other hopefuls and there’s a stage, and a bunch of people stand up there and tell you stuff that is supposed to change your life?

She tried for two years to get me there. In the end, she paid the $500 attendance fee and dropped me off at the entrance. I went in and found a seat way at the back, nodding to another obvious doubter. Some clever dude on the stage however - the first to speak - then made us all shift around, so those in the back ended up in the front. He’d sussed us out!

The first session lasted three hours. My eyes glazed and my brain hurt. I closed my eyes for just a second or two, I swear, but suddenly the guy on my right, a fresh-faced and now very eager attendee, shook me.

“We’re supposed to hug.”

“What?”

“Weren’t you listening?”

“Um…”

“He said, hug the person on your left and tell them you think they’re amazing.”

I tried to make sense of it. If he hugged me and I hugged the person on my left who hugged the person… See what I mean? I was picturing this great long conga line of huggers.

“I can’t hug you and also hug her!” I pointed to the lady on my left.

“No no no! you do it in pairs. You really weren’t listening were you?”

He looked so disappointed! He’d been paired with a dud.

We hugged. I mumbled “You’re amazing,” got the same words back then we broke for lunch.

I caught a cab and spent the rest of the weekend at home. Come Monday morning, which was also our weekly Sales meeting, I raved about how enlightened I now felt. Yes, my sales would improve, yes, I’d found the power within!

Julie pulled me aside at the end and made me fess up. I hadn’t fooled her.

“Want your money back?” I offered lamely.

“No. But here’s what you’re going to do. Because you owe me, right?”

She then explained about this house she’d listed two months ago. How she couldn’t sell it. Dozens of families had been through but not a single offer.

“You’re going to help me,” she concluded. “I’m not losing this to another Agency!”

It sounded like a good deal, getting half the bonus, so I started working through my list of buyers. Several calls later, I’d gotten together six prospects and organised inspections.

I hadn’t seen the house yet, so mid- afternoon, I grabbed the keys. It was close to our office. A neat, single story, three bedroom brick-veneer, sitting high on a corner block. Why hadn’t it sold? We’d both turned over several similar ones in mere days!

The house was empty, the widow living there having passed away. Her children were both interstate and only interested in a quick sale. I opened the front door and worked my way through every room. The furniture had been removed which is usually not a good thing, since there’s nothing to distract the eye from any flaws, like rising damp or badly stained carpets.

I could find nothing wrong inside this one however. The walls were clean, the carpet stain-free, the tiles all intact in the only-slightly dated kitchen. Why had it not sold?

I’d reached the bathroom. Opening the door, I felt a draught. I had closed the front door behind me and the bathroom window was shut. Huh. Goosebumps on my arms, I checked the tidy bathroom over carefully. It was immaculate. Nice shiny tiles, a marble vanity, and a deep square bath, separate from the shower. Huh.

Next day, I took the first family through. They loved it! The yard was perfect for the kids, blah blah blah. Then Mrs walked into the bathroom.

“It’s cold in here. Is the air conditioner on?”

“No,” I replied, having kept close to her since wives always made the purchasing decisions. The husbands usually did a quick tour then got on their phones. All of them had the same resigned expression tinged a little with hope that the wife would finally make her mind up and buy this one or that one.

“So, will you be making an offer? I have the paperwork ready back at the office.”

Uh oh. There it was. The look. I knew what would follow.

“Let me think about it overnight. I’ll call you first thing tomorrow, I promise.”

She wasn’t going to call. “But you like it right? It ticks all the boxes you mentioned?”

“Yes it’s lovely. Perfect really.”

Then why are you not following me back to the office? I didn’t say that but I was thinking it! “I have other buyers coming through later. You sure you don’t want to put a deposit down? There’s the three day cooling off period we talked about, remember?”

I got the look again. “I… uh… I’ll call you, okay?”

“Sure.”

This same conversation was repeated six times during the next four days. All six families loved the house. All six wives complained about the cold bathroom. All six potential sales fell through.

I called Julie. “Hey, meet me over at the house.”

She arrived ten minutes later. “What’s up?”

"Have you noticed anything odd about the place?”

“No? Is there something-” She paused and a frown appeared. “Come to think of it, I’ve had a few complaints about the bathroom not being right?”

Huh. We both stood in the doorway, looking in. It was a perfect bathroom. Julie stepped inside. “It’s always cold in here. You noticed it?”

“Yeah. So did every buyer I brought through.”

“And the air-con’s off right?”

“I’ve checked a dozen times.”

What followed was one of those Oh my God! moments. Julie pulled out her phone and dialled the widow’s daughter.

“No, no offers yet,” I heard her say.

Then she posed a strange question: “I’m sorry to have to ask this but your mum, did she die at home?” She nodded to me, indicating she’d received a yes.

“Did she die in the bathroom?” Another nod.

There was silence for a short time then Julie said goodbye and cut the call.

“We have a ghost.”

“What do you mean we have a ghost? There’s no such things as ghosts Jules, get real!”

“Well we have something, because Mrs Baker died at home. In the bathroom in fact and she wasn’t found till a week later!”

“We have a ghost?” I couldn’t believe I was asking this. There’s no ghosts, I don’t believe in ghosts!

Julie was on the fence apparently. She also had a client who “released trapped spirits”.

We met up with her client the next day. Julie had given no details other than wanting to have the house checked over. The lady wandered through each room. Then she reached the bathroom.

“You have a ghost.”

“We have a ghost?” I was still resisting the idea. Everything inside me was in revolt. This was stupid!

“I’ll be right back,” our potential ghost-buster said.

She returned with some dried leaves tied in a tight bunch. She lit them up! Then she entered the bathroom, trailing an odd-smelling smoke. She said some weird stuff. Waved the smoking thing in her hand around. Said more weird stuff.

“She’s gone,” she announced, letting out a deep sigh.

She? Neither Julie nor I had mentioned the sex of the previous owner, and the house was empty. How had she known it had been a she?

“You can come in now.”

We walked in. I swear, the bathroom was no longer cold. I swear!

Two days later, I sold the house. My buyer walked around, said she loved the bathroom, followed me back to the office and signed the contract.

Do I believe in ghosts?

Author's Note

This is not a work of fiction!

Reviews

[Alucard6336]

And neither am I, though I write fiction.

There's by far greater and stranger things than ghosts in this universe (myself included.)

What if we were the ghosts, and they're the living? Who knows?

Or what if the night callers knew much more than the fact ghosts exist?

Pagans attempt to summon zombies even invoking the name of Baron Samedi (who was also the name of a bond villian.)

Any who, what I am saying is that if you want answers about the supernatural, just drop me a line. I'm no fake empath psychic advertising on television, but I am a man who used his knowledge of the supernatural to get ahead in life.

Much love for this wonderful story :)

[Elise Anton]

I left my own beliefs open at the end because I cannot seriously say one way or the other. I've had many similar instances, where logic is overriden. One in particular that has stayed with me... When I was in my teens, we'd moved to a new house. I kept waking up most nights to see an old aboriginal man standing with one leg folded and resting on the knee of the other. He simple stared benignly, I felt no fear. I'd still wake up my father though and he'd search the house, check windows etc. Anyhow, a while later, we were studying Aboriginal History in school and I discovered that our house sat on an old and very sacred burial ground. The strange part is that once I found this out, he never came back. Like he had wanted me to know... In the end I'd grown fond of him... Some things cannot be explained I guess... Glad you liked it!

[Scott Durham]

I found this to be the most intriguing of all the lines in it.
If filled in properly, this could be a nice Stephen a'la King type short.
You have a good arsenal of words, for sure.

"-I called Julie. “Hey, meet me over at the house.”
She arrived ten minutes later. “What’s up?”-"
----------------------------------------------------------------

The ten minutes in between that would make great fiction.
If you ever went that direction with it.
Coolio

[Elise Anton]

Thank you once again for reading. I agree with you, those ten minutes could have been filled with any amount of King-type twists. Since this was a true story however, those ten minutes were filled with me on the phone, organising more apointments with buyers. I wrote this pretty much as I lived it, or at least as I remember living it.
You have however provided an excellent direction, should I ever decide to convert this to a piece of fiction. Much appreciated!