parmiga/lored shorts

Case 2

London.

I'd always heard such good things about it.

But now that I'm here, I've realized there really isn't much to talk about.

The weather is dreary and bleak, all the buildings look the same, and most folks here seem like they would bash you for taking the last blueberry muffin.

But that might just be me.

I've never really been the one to sugarcoat things and look on the bright side, that's more Lorraine's thing.

As I'm saying this, she's looking out the window of our vehicle, admiring absolutely anything and everything she sees pass by.

She acts like a small, excited child whenever we travel places.

It's cute.

Suddenly, the driver jerks the car to a stop and grunts that this is where we get off.

I pay him our dues and get out, ready to get the bags.

As I'm grabbing the luggage from the back, I glance around the neighborhood we're in.

This place doesn't even look welcoming.

•••

I was right.

The neighborhood isn't welcoming.

Lorraine and I didn't even have to investigate the house to know that there was demonic activity going on.

I'm not a clairvoyant and even I felt it.

The second I stepped inside, goosebumps rose on my arms and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Not a good sign.

After introductions, Lorraine and I went our separate ways.

Her to go and speak with the victim of the demon, and me to inspect the house more.

The place was so rundown, it looked as if it had never seen a mop or broom in its lifetime.

I'm not trying to shame the owner mind you, the house was in no condition to be fixed by cleaning supplies anyway.

The owner, Peggy Hodgson, gave me a detailed explanation to what exactly had been happening.

Apparently, her daughters, Janet and Margaret, were messing around with a ouija board a few weeks back and Janet hadn't been acting the same ever since.

She would wake up in various places of the house in the middle of the night, not knowing how she'd gotten there.

Other times, she'd speak in a strange voice, lashing out angrily at her siblings or Peggy.

Sometimes it wasn't Janet doing the harm, but just run-of-the-mill ghostly activity within the home.

Peggy was terribly frightened that the demon wanted something more from her family and would hurt them.

She was mostly concerned for Janet, because that's where most of the activity was sourcing from.

Later that night, as Lorraine and I settled into our separate twin-sized beds (much to my dismay) we discussed everything we had learned in the day.