Haunter 1: The Shadow of the Haunter

2. Noises and Rumors

The footsteps sounded like somebody was walking down the second-floor hallway to the stairs, then down to the first floor and away toward one of the parlors.

I held my breath, frozen in fear, my heart pounding like a drum. Until I recalled where I was: a wooden house in the middle of nowhere. It was the building settling, not a break-in. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

It took me a couple of days to get bored of wandering up and down the Manor, exploring every room, studying every painting and every portrait of the Blotters, roaming the garden and the woods down to the Quabbin. It felt like I never had enough of gazing around and breathing deep, to fill my lungs with that pristine air that smelled of trees.

The Manor had its particular smell, too. It smelled old, for sure, but it also smelled like home. At least, somebody's home. I didn't know why, but I felt welcomed and relaxed there.

Monday through Saturday, Susan and Mike came every morning about nine and moved like stealth shadows, cleaning and fixing little things. Seeing the way they moved around the house, and especially the way they glanced over their shoulders, I could tell Susan hadn't been completely honest about loving the Manor. It was more like they respected it out of fear, no matter how weird that seemed.

Maybe it was the constant little noises that filled the place around the clock. Faint taps or knocks, soft creaks on the floorboards and the stairs. Had they been louder, it would've sounded like half a dozen people lived there.

On Monday, I took over the third-floor study and spent several hours there after Susan cleaned it, my laptop open to a blank page on the desk before me, my guitar on my lap and my eyes lost out the window, my mind a gross blank. I lost track of time, playing and singing in whispers, while my mind roamed free like I did out there since I'd gotten to the Manor.

The footsteps kept waking me up at midnight. On Tuesday night, I even jumped out of bed, ran to yank my door open and poked my head out to look down the hallway. To find nobody, of course.

"It's late, Blotter Manor," I said out loud. "Let's go to sleep, please."

I went back to bed, leaving my door wide open, and had just turned off my lamp when I heard something like the echo of a child's giggle. I blamed it on some late bird outside and fell back asleep in a minute. No more noises woke me up again that night.

On the fifth day of my new life, still to miss the least bit about the old one, I got in the car and drove to town to get some groceries. Susan kept the fridge and the pantry well stocked, but she still didn't know my personal tastes and there were some little things I missed.

Like it was bound to happen in such a small town, the old man behind the counter managed to politely ask who the hell I was and where the hell I was staying. I didn't dig his smile when I mentioned Blotter Manor.

"Really? And how are the ghosts treating you?" he asked mockingly.

"Beg your pardon?" I hated that his words reminded me of the footsteps and the faint giggle.

The old man chuckled gently.

"Didn't you know the Manor is haunted? They say it's the most haunted house in the whole state."

"Is it. I had no idea."

"Maybe the ghosts like you. Miss Blotter tried to have a tenant before she retired, about five years ago. He only lasted two months before running for the hills to never come back."

"Go figure. Yeah, the ghosts must like me, then." I retrieved my credit card with a forced smile, grabbed my things and left.

His words kept going round and round my head as I got in the car, and before going back home, I decided to pay a visit to the historical society. The two old ladies looked both amused and glad to help me research the Manor's history, and gave me enough reading material for a couple of months. Only I'm a pure-breed bookworm and had nothing better to do.