The Ghoul Behind the Camera

My name is Adire Angami. Although I hail from Africa, my parents moved to America when I was just five months old, so I've spent most of my life here. Recently, I've embarked on a journey into photography, reconnecting with my African roots along the way. Sharing photos of African culture online has garnered me some recognition. Despite the high recommendations from some of the contacts I made online, I felt there was something more out there. And I was right.

One day, I received a message from Mansfield Models, a prestigious modeling agency, expressing interest in my work. Excited, I immediately told my parents. Though they were thrilled for me, they cautioned me to research the company. Upon checking the reviews, I found a slew of one-star ratings, with people claiming the place was haunted. However, I'm not one to heed warnings from strangers, so I brushed it off and went about my day.

The day finally arrived for my photoshoot with Mansfield Models. As I stood in front of the building, a man approached me with a look of terror in his eyes.

"Is this the Mansfield Models building?" I asked.

He shook his head violently. "That place is haunted. Don't go there. You will never come back out the same."

Frustrated by his cryptic warning, I snapped, "Listen, I don't have time for this. Is this the building or not?"

"It is, ma'am, but I'm warning you. Be careful."

Ignoring his ominous advice, I entered the building, which exuded an eerie vibe. I was greeted by Adeline Mansfield, the owner.

"Hello, Adire. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"You as well, Miss Mansfield."

"Please, call me Adeline. Let's head up; the models are waiting."

We took a grand elevator, and Adeline pressed a black button labeled "THE FLOOR." I didn't think much of it.

"Adire, are you sure you don't want to be a model? You have the looks—face, body, hair, and legs. With the right clothes, you'd be the talk of the town."

"Modeling has never been a part of my family. My friends had relatives in the industry, but it wasn't for us."

"Thank you for sharing," she said as we reached the floor. A pungent smell of gas and smoke hit us. Adeline's eyes widened as she saw a stove catching fire next to some clothes. She rushed over and moved the clothes just in time.

"RAMSIE, COME HERE RIGHT NOW!"

A young woman, around 20-22 years old, hurried out. She had long dirty blonde hair, glasses, and striking hazel eyes. She wore a pretty blue sundress with an off-white wool shawl, her figure quite stunning. Despite her beauty, she looked terrified.

"Yes, Mother?" she asked timidly.

"Why did you leave the stove on? I leave you for five minutes, and the clothes almost catch fire."

"I'm sorry, Mother. I went to grab some seasoning from the back and forgot about the stove. It won't happen again."

"It's okay, just be more careful next time."

Adeline turned to me, remembering my presence. "Oh, I almost forgot. Ramsie, this is Adire, our new photographer."

Ramsie looked at me with a mix of fear and warning but managed a smile before returning to her task.

"Sorry about that outburst, Adire. Come, let me introduce you to our models," Adeline said cheerfully.

The models were stunning, though some features seemed a bit artificial. I wanted to comment but didn't get the chance as Adeline gathered them for the photos. I started setting up.

After 30 minutes, the models appeared in designer clothes and heavy makeup. As I took the first few shots and reviewed them, I noticed something unsettling in the background—two pairs of bloodshot green eyes behind the backdrop. I pointed it out to Adeline, who casually explained it was Dave, the props manager.

Confused, I greeted Dave when he emerged from the backroom. But I was certain there wasn't a props manager among the staff I had met earlier. Suspicion crept in as I couldn't recall seeing or hearing about Dave before.

The day continued with the same eerie occurrences—those unsettling green eyes in the background and the elusive Dave who never seemed to appear. Adeline remained blissfully unaware, seemingly oblivious to the ghostly presence in her building. At least, I think it was a ghost. I'd have to do some research at home.

After wrapping up the day's work, I received my payment—a whopping $15,000. It was the most money I'd ever earned.

"Miss Adeline, this is too much. I can't accept it."

"Yes, you can. This is your pay for five hours—$3,000 an hour," she replied with a smile.

"Thank you so much."

As I left with the money, I glimpsed those same green eyes behind Adeline. I tried to warn her, but the elevator doors closed. I attempted to call her from the elevator, but the Wi-Fi was out. I brushed it off, thinking I was just imagining things.

Days went by with the same routine—more photo shoots, the eerie green eyes, the absent Dave, and the generous payments. Despite the hefty paychecks, I couldn't shake the bad vibe about the place. So, I decided to do some research about Mansfield Models. After five hours of digging, I finally had enough information, and it was already dark outside. With nothing else to do, I decided to take a walk.

Passing by the building where I worked, I noticed the door was ajar, and no one was around. Curiosity got the better of me, and I went in. I headed to the elevator and pressed the button for THE FLOOR. Surprisingly, it responded, and the doors closed, taking me up.

When the elevator doors opened, I saw a silhouette by the stove where Ramsie usually was.

"Ramsie? Is that you?" I called out, my voice trembling.

The silhouette turned and darted to the backroom. Remembering my research, which mentioned the spirit favoring the backroom, I pulled out a flashlight from my bag and shone it in that direction. Suddenly, the silhouette moved swiftly in front of me and vanished behind the backdrop used for the models.

"Hello? Who are you? I'll call the police if you don't show yourself!" I shouted; my fear evident.

A voice, low and rumbling yet soft, replied, "I'm here."

"Who are you and why are you here?" I demanded.

"I think you know who I am. Or what I am, for that matter."

I recalled the green eyes from the photos. "Do you have green eyes and lurk behind the backdrop during the day?"

"Correct. I am that spirit, Adire."

I was stunned, both by the revelation that I was right and by the fact that I was actually speaking to a ghost.

"Why are you haunting this building?" I asked, my fear momentarily forgotten.

"I used to work here back when Adeline wasn't as popular as she is now. She treated me well but never paid me. I was a photographer like you, and she owed me $15,000 before I died."

"I have $15,000 in my bag, but before I give it to you, I want to know your name," I said firmly.

"Of course, but I think you know me, darling," the voice replied.

The term of endearment struck a chord. It was something my grandfather used to call me before he passed away in a car accident.

"Grandpa?" I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Yes, darling. When I found out you worked here, I had to do something to get your attention," he said gently.

I was overwhelmed and began to cry. "I'm so glad I get to talk to you again, but seriously, I'll give you the money," I said.

"No need, sweetheart. Just promise me one thing. When you start your own company, name it after me," he said sweetly.

I promised, said my farewells, and left the building.

Years later, I had saved enough money to open my own company, Cameron Classics, a place where models and photographers could thrive.

I looked up at the sky, filled with joy. "Thank you, Grandpa. I'll make you proud."

And my journey had only just begun.