A Haunted House [FICTOID]

The house on Copper Beech Lane looked like a watercolor in heavy grey wash.  It possessed no sharp edges of right angles, everything suffered from a bleary, blurry, saggy look that spoke only of decay.

The trees surrounding the house looked like thin grey fingers poking out of a grave, an arsenal of crooked spears jabbing at the moon.

“Relativity has nothing to do with it,” the professor said.  Two college students accompanied her.  “This is quantum mechanics stuff -- entanglements.

“Tonight we’re going to prove haunted houses really exist -- or die in the attempt!”

The two college students gulped hard.  “Relax,” the professor said.  “I kid, I kid.”

Inside, the house looked more decrepit and decayed than the exterior.

The professor took out a silver cufflink and placed it on the floor.  “What’s that?” on of the students asked.

“It belongs to a politician who was murdered here.  I’m trying to draw his spirit out.  Be quiet -- and listen!”

The students kept silent.  They heard nothing but the wind and the creaking of the house.

In a van parked nearby, two researchers peered at their screen in amazement.  On the screen the semi-transparent forms of the professor and the students faded in and out then disappeared abruptly.

“Does that happen every night?”

“Every night.”

“Don’t they know they’re dead?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t we…I mean…tell them?”

“You know how they died, right?”

A guilty nod was the answer.

“Okay, would you want to be reminded of that?”

A head shake this time.

“Then let’s leave well enough alone, shall we?”

© Buzz Dixon