From Haunted to Haunter

Day 2

I died recently.

I’m not going to lie, this all feels very surreal to me. Feels? Who am I kidding? This is surreal. One minute I was laughing and mucking about with my friends. The next thing I knew, I was stood over myself. It was as if I had fallen asleep, and just as the darkness started to creep in, I woke up again. But only in spirit, not in body – literally.

I kept thinking I would wake up at any moment. I peered at my sleeping face, got in real close just because I could. How strange it felt to see myself from an outside perspective.

Not bad, I thought to myself. I’d got lucky with my looks, all things considered. Except for the patch of escapee whiskers on my chin that had successfully dodged the razor that morning. They ruined the whole look. I couldn’t believe I’d miss them as they were so obvious. But this new angle helped. I promised myself that the first thing I would do when I got home would be to deal with them.

I just stood there for hours, watching myself sleep. Waiting for the moment when my eyes would open and snatch back to their normal point of view.

It wasn’t until the sun had done a full cycle that I realised something wasn’t right. It had taken me the time it takes the sun to rise in the east, travel southwards across the sky until it disappears behind the western horizon where it hides itself until the next morning. And it was only as it popped up in the east again, spilling its early morning rays over my motionless body, that it dawned on me. I wasn’t asleep. I was dead.

And so that’s where I find myself now. Dead. But not? Not completely anyway. I don’t know what this is. All I know is that there was a time, only a few days ago, when I was alive. And now I’m not.

Day 3

I’ve been thinking a lot, trying to remember what happened that night. How exactly did I die?

I’d been out with the guys, we’d had a few. I’m only twenty. No wait, I was only twenty. How does age work now? Do I get older or has time just stopped for me?

Anyway, that’s a question for another day.

I was with my friends. We’d lit a campfire in the field behind Harry’s house. Harry and I have been best friends since we were three. He'd just turned twenty-one and we were celebrating. After the beer had been flowing for a while, he pulled out a bottle of vodka.

I think you get the picture.

It was getting close to midnight when a brilliant idea was formed. A local landmark was only a 20-minute walk away. It was a place of many stories and legends. Somewhere parents forbade their children from visiting. A building said to be the home of some of the spookiest spirits in the state.

So what did we decide to do on that surprisingly mild October 31st? You guessed it.

And, as you can tell, it didn’t go too well for us. I mean, for me at least.

I can’t remember much past when we first arrived. The alcohol was hitting hard by that point. It’s probably what gave us such a stupid sense of invincibility. Because let’s be honest, I never would have set foot in this place if I had been thinking straight.

Something must have happened during our time here. I’m living proof of that. Wait, um, would it actually be unliving proof?

I don’t know what happened to my friends. I haven’t seen them around. As far as I can tell, I am the only one here. I’ve tried calling out to them just in case, but no one answered.

I hope they are OK wherever they are.

Day 4

Still here. Whatever or wherever here is.

I’ve been sat here watching the world go by, trying to figure it out. What is this? Is there anything after this?

Hmmm. You know what? On second thoughts, I don’t think I want an answer to that one.

Day 5 – maybe

A thought crossed my mind earlier as I watched the sun rise once again. This is the fifth day I remember, but I have no idea how many sunrises passed by before I woke up as a ghost.

Ghost.

The word feels weird when I say it. It’s the first time I’ve put a name to what I might be. But what am I now, if not just a fragment of my past self? My body is dead but my spirit lives on. I no longer abide to the rules of the living world but for some reason, I’m still bound to it.

A ghost, yes. That’s what I am.

Day 14

It's been two weeks since I died.

I don’t go to see my body anymore. Mother nature has started to reclaim what is hers and what used to my body is now a pile of decaying skin and body parts. I’m trying to forget when the other day I saw a maggot wriggling around in the place of where my eye once was.

It did mean that I made a discovery though. It seems that ghosts cannot vomit, no matter how strong the urge is.

I’m curious now. I want to figure out fact from fiction. What exactly is a ghost?

Day 23

I’ve learnt so much.

1. Ghosts are bound to the place where they died

In other words, I can’t leave this place. And trust me, I tried everything. It’s like there is some sort of invisible barrier beyond the limits of these walls that prevents me from leaving. I tried windows, doors, a hole in the roof, sneaking, pushing, running.

Nothing works.

2. I’m becoming nocturnal

I’ve noticed as time has passed since my death that I’ve been getting more and more tired during the day. I just feel drowsy and heavy. I even had a nap this morning. I closed my eyes as the sun was rising, when I opened them again it was well past its midday peak.

But at night, I feel more alive - or as close to alive as I can feel that is.

3. Ghosts don’t have superpowers

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have any other worldly abilities. I don’t float around the place; I walk around, and gravity still affects me the same.

I can’t walk through objects or walls.

I don’t have superstrength. But let's be clear, I was the arm-wrestling champion at my college so I'm not weak either.

I certainly don’t possess any creepy way of messing with the weather or anything like that.

On the plus side, I can still interact with objects. Move things around, pick things up. I even poked a rat yesterday and it scurried away in the opposite direction. I’m yet to know if this is the same with people or if it just works with animals.

4. Ghosts don’t feel anything

This seems like an obvious one, but I am writing it down anyway. I haven’t felt hungry or thirsty or any of the basic human needs since becoming a ghost. Except for fatigue weirdly? But it’s not feeling tired rather than just feeling sluggish and slow; less alive – does that even make sense?

I also don’t feel pain. I tried different things to test this theory out. Like slamming a heavy door on my own fingers, headbutting the wall repeatedly or jumping off the first-floor mezzanine.

Not only did I feel nothing, but it didn’t even do any damage as far as I could tell. Which is kind of a superpower in itself and contradicts my third point, I guess. But then again, I’m already dead. So what more damage can you do?

(As a side note, I want to be clear that I’m only talking physical feelings. Emotional feelings still seem to be a thing, or I wouldn’t be so curious and eager to learn about this new life.)

Day 47

Life after death has taught me to appreciate the little things more. The stars where they sparkle high above me at night, the colours the sun throws across the sky as it rises and falls, the dance and singing of the birds flitting effortlessly through the air.

It's beautiful.

But despite this newfound appreciation for the world, sometimes it can get lonely.

Day 61

Something exciting happened today – I had my first visitors. Two girls, probably early teens.

I’d been dozing in the late afternoon sun when they disturbed me from my slumber. They were on the front step, debating in hushed voices about who was going in first. They crept forward, as if tiptoeing was going to keep them from being caught.

I got a bit too excited and came to greet them. They ran away screaming as soon as the door swung open. I don’t know if they could see me or if the door seemingly opened itself. Either way, lesson learnt: don’t open the door to your visitors when you live in a “haunted house”.

Day 73

The girls came back. They must have talked about what happened to some of their friends because they came as a group. Four girls, two boys.

The boys strolled up to the house, chins up high and looking like they owned the place. I was the only one to see them shaking when they hesitated by the front door. But they had a mission. They were here to prove their worth and win some hearts. I felt for them, because man, I'd been in those shoes. At their age, a haunted house is possibly only second in scariness to asking a girl out.

So, I decided to play along.

I moved some doors when they were close by, just a little bit this time. Creaked some stairs at convenient points. I even pushed a book off a shelf, launching one girl right into the arms of her protector (you’re welcome).  

It was all fun and games until they started heading to the back of the house where the remainders of my body lay. I’d totally forgotten. I didn’t want them to see me in that state, the image really would haunt them forever.

In a panic, I slammed the door shut on their faces, sending them scampering away. They ran and ran, through the house and out the door, never looking back.

(Fun fact: they cannot see me).

Day 179

It’s been a while since I last saw anyone approach the house. Today was the first time since the teenagers that another group has braved it. It was two couples in their early twenties. They came in the middle of the night, an ideal moment for me to play around and spook them.

I shouldn’t find amusement in this, but it won’t do them any harm. And besides, they wouldn’t come up to visit me if they weren’t expecting to leave feeling freaked out. I admit I find particular amusement in breathing down their necks and making their hairs stand on end. That moment when they tense up and turn around so slowly you can see the cogs turning in their heads. And when there is nothing there, they make this funny noise that I would describe as something that starts as a deep need to scream but ends up as an inability to make anything more than a muffled choking sound.

Good times.

They tried opening the door to where my remains are, but I held it firmly shut. They didn’t insist to my relief.

Day 237

The word must have spread because I’ve had a few more visitors recently. Usually in groups of two to four. Generally at night. I amuse myself endlessly finding new ways of scaring them.

The scaredy cats are easy to recognise. It’s always that one friend that was dragged along but who clearly does not want to be there. They jump and whimper at every sound or movement. Sometimes I don’t even have to do anything and they’ve already started screaming. People like this never last more than about 10-minutes tops.

Then you have the middle-class of bravery. I see a lot of them. These are the ones who are openly scared and let their worries be known but whose curiosity surpasses their fear. They will tolerate moving objects, their torches switching themselves off and sudden loud noises but anything too close to their actual person is usually a step too far.

Last but not least, you have the insanely brave. Honestly, these are the most entertaining. The harder they are to break, the more interesting it is for me.

Only the other day I had a good one. I managed to separate my target from his friends. Let him lead around with my hand firmly in his, letting him believe I was his girlfriend. He would mutter words of comfort every now and then, but he never thought to check who it was with him. He arrived at that door and tried opening it. I tugged on his arm, hoping to dissuade him but he ignored me and tried again.

I tugged a second time, sending him crashing to the floor. His expression went from furious to confused to completely blank as understanding sunk in.

The scream was bone chilling. Well, for those present who still had bones that is.

It had me laughing for a solid two days.

Day 611

I feel like a celebrity these days. Almost every week I have visitors knocking at my door.

I’m like the superstar of the afterlife.

Day 648

It feels like a while since I’ve had time to just sit and enjoy the little things. The sunrise, the birds, the stars.

It would be nice to have just a few days to myself.

Day 666

I've been thinking... I'm becoming a real celebrity these days but not one of my friends has come to see me.

Not even Harry.

Day 685

It’s never ending. Not the afterlife, that’s a given. But all these people, that’s what I mean. They are never ending. I can chase off one group and soon after, more arrive.

In fact, some just keep coming back, over and over and over again. They must get some sort of high out of it but I’m running out of ways to scare them. They know all my tricks and games.

It’s no fun this way.

Day 702

I’m tired. Really tired. I don’t want to do this anymore. I never signed up to becoming a tourist attraction.

Why can’t they just let me rest in peace?

Day 856

I’ve tried everything. They won’t stop coming. They won’t LEAVE ME ALONE.

I’ve tried every scary card in the book. I even spent a whole month standing guard at the door, not allowing a single person entry. When that didn’t work, I tried going several months without reacting at all in the hope that interest would fade with no signs of ghostly activity.

But they NEVER STOP COMING.

Please. Make this stop, please…

Day 905

Remember Mr Hand Holding from day 234? He came back today.

He had the nerve to walk in with that same smug look on his face as the first time. He seems to have forgotten that I made him cry like a baby that night.

And then to make it worse, he went straight to that door and started swearing at me when I wouldn’t let him in.

Who does he think he is?

Day 931

I don’t know what he did, what ridiculous things he told people. But people are here EVERY DAY trying to get through that door.

Can’t they leave it be?! I don’t ask for much, I put up with them turning up at my door whenever they want. But that room is off limits.

End of story.

Day 967

Is this some sort of a joke to him?!

He didn’t come into the house, instead he sent his minions in to torture me. He stood there and watched, mocking me. Mocking me! From the safety of the outside world.

That smug...

Day 1000

I swear. The day he finally DARES to step a single foot back into this house, he will learn what it feels like to be tortured over and over again.

Day 1095

That’s it. I’ve had it. Play time is over.

OVER.

…

Dear Diary,

I’ve never had a diary before but I need to gather my thoughts and this seems like a good way. Someone left this pencil and paper behind so I’m borrowing it.

Something strange happened today. I was at a group ghost hunting experience with my friends. Not long after we arrived, the ceiling started to groan and crumble as if the house was shaken in anger.

When the dust cleared, I could see my friends lying motionless under the rubble. I felt a shudder pass down my spine; this was bad. I ran for the door, shouting for help from the hunt organizer outside. I could see he was just stood there, watching on, eyes wide in terror.

As I went to pass through the open doorway, I slammed into something that sent me toppling backwards. I tried to leave again, slower that time, but I couldn’t get through the doorway no matter what.

I screamed for help but eventually the man just turned and left. He completely ignored me. How could he?

…

Now that I think about it.. maybe… maybe, he couldn’t hear me…

I think… If I move some of the rubble, maybe…

I think, maybe, earlier today…

I…