The Haunting (Or: Ghost Is Literally A Ghost)

Night Five (I)

The heavenly smell of a salmon fillet sizzling in the pan filled the kitchen and distracted you from the fact that you did not entirely remember what happened last night.

After seeing the damned clock strike 3:33 am again, you had scurried up the stairs at a speed you didn't know you had in you, and hid yourself under the covers.

You weren't sure if you heard or saw anything, and you couldn't even remember when you fell asleep, but you woke up at around eight. Anything that had happened after you started working on your novel was a blur, a thick fog in your brain that gave you a headache.

On top of that, you misplaced the dog tag. You were one hundred percent sure that you left it on the kitchen table, and it hadn't been on the floor either.

It was nowhere to be found and your mind kept racing until the late afternoon, so you distracted yourself with some gardening. Ripping out weeds, cutting overgrown grass and breathing in fresh air did wonders for your brain.

Now you were in the kitchen again, pulling a tray of veggies out of the oven while you waited for your best friend to pick up the phone, the device lodged between your ear and your shoulder.

She was probably eagerly awaiting your call, because you had told her you would get back to her once you were settled better.

"Hey girl, good to hear from you!"

Sheila's voice sent a smile to your face immediately, a week with almost no contact was hard for two people who used to be glued together by the hips.

The two of you exchanged some general questions; how are you, what's work doing, how's the family... A long needed chit-chat, taking your mind off things, until she asked you about the state of the house and how it was living there.

You pondered for a few seconds, unsure what to say. The truth would sound ridiculous, even to someone you could talk to about everything and anything.

"[Name]... Still there?"

"Yeah sure, I'm sorry. It's, uhm, alright here, it's a bit creaky and cold, but I made good progress", you pressed out, but you accidentally made the sentence sound like a question rather than a statement.

"Okay...", she replied, a hint of concern in her voice, "are you sure? Because I've known you for twenty two years and you do not sound like that when you're alright."

"I'm just overwhelmed, the house's been vacant for ten years so there's a lot to do, plus I'm just not sleeping that well. Change of environment or something."

A change in the environment would have been more precise.

You couldn't fool your childhood best friend, and she kept asking, almost probing about your unusual taciturnity.

"You're gonna think I'm stupid", you finally whined, giving in to her pushing.

"Stupider than when we found a piece of cheesecake in the back of mum's fridge and you ate it knowing full well that it was a leftover from my birthday six weeks prior?"

A genuine chuckle reverberated in your chest at the memory, although spending an entire week face down above the toilet bowl had not been fun.

"To be fair, I think this is way worse. I'll tell you because I have enough of your nagging, but don't tell me I didn't warn you."

"Chop chop, spill it", she urged, and you sighed.

"Kay. First night, I had this horrible nightmare about my great aunt. I was so glad when I woke up, but I couldn't fall asleep afterwards. Second night, I woke up because it was so cold suddenly... I don't know. Third night, I fell asleep writing on the couch and woke up when I dropped my laptop."