Historic House for Sale, Complimentary Ghost

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper but it has potential to be a great home.” Eliza entered through the front door with yet another possible owner. This was the worst time for humans to be wandering around my land. I had just aired out the last four unwanted guests. 

“If I were you I would put in my offer now. The two couples I showed the house to are scrambling to gather their offer as we speak.” 

The guest walked past Eliza, silently exploring the kitchen. He paused and wrinkled his nose at my kitchen. I must say that the design of lime green cabinets with a white stove was all the rage in the 40’s. It had my neighbors talking about the wealth I held. 

“The kitchen alone looks like it will need at least fifty grand in modernizing.” The guest shook his head and continued his invasion through my house. Walking into the dinning room. He stood in silence slowly taking in the wooden floors, antique dining table and hand carved chairs. “This room is fine.” 

Eliza laughed, “Trust me, when you see how much land you will acquire with this house, it will all be worth it.” She ushered him away from the dining room and through the other rooms. 

Eliza, if you go anywhere near the edge of the porch, so help me I will trip you down the stairs. I whispered. 

Eliza rubbed her ears in frustration. “Let me show you upstairs, the master bed and bath are to die for.” 

Literally. You’ll die. I laughed. 

The guest left briefly, not a single word uttered to Eliza as he left. She stood on the porch waving enthusiastically. “Remember to call when you have a number in mind! You have my card.” 

His car peeled out of the gravel driveway, through the overgrown grass and past the hedges that blocked the entrance. 

Eliza’s shoulders sagged, “Mary. Get your ghoulish ass out here right now.” She seethed through clenched teeth.

I crossed my arms and did my best to stay grounded. No way was I going outside, not in this hot weather. 

“Mary!” She screamed. “Here. Now.” 

I sighed and walked to the entrance of my house, the floors slightly creaking with every other step. You summoned me. 

“Aren’t you tired of being alone in this house? What was the purpose of scaring him off! He seemed like a wonderful gentleman.” 

I would much rather rent the house to a bunch of frat boys. My voice whistled through the air, falling into a light hum to be heard by only her. 

“What was the point of hiring me then?” She threw her arms in the air and marched into the house. “For your behavior I'm opening another bottle.” She called heading straight for my wine cellar.

I gasped, rushing right behind her. You wouldn’t dare!

“Oh yeah, just watch me.” She ran, slamming the cellar door behind her. 

The air around me turned hot with frustration. Damn Eliza. The wine I collected for years lay untouched downstairs. Even if I couldn’t drink it, the gods should have been gracious enough to allow me to enter the room. 

Eliza you have to understand my point of things. I don’t want anyone living in my house. 

“Tough tootsies. It’s either I sell the house or it gets torn down. Then what happens to you?” 

I left Eliza to enjoy my collection while I walked around my house. My father had built it. He put all his money into the house that stands today, that man would have come in and destroyed it all. 

“What’s the most expensive bottle down here?” Her voice floated up through the floors beneath the dining room. Noisy humans. 

I let out a huff, walking towards the living room five steps before the window and stomped twice. Just a few feet below me sat my most prized possession, the wine I collected during special trips. There was silence, a shuffle beneath me and then the sound of her footsteps coming up the stairs. 

“Thanks.” She threw over her shoulder as she walked through the house like it was hers. 

You know the deal. Pour one out for me. I appeared before her, using the battery from her phone to power my arm to reach out and open the drawer. 

She grabbed two crystal glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the counter. 

Would you mind pulling a chair over for me? I whispered, my eyelids slightly drooping. No matter how much electricity I drain, the simple tasks always send me into a shock. 

Eliza put down the wine and looked around the room, “Where are you?” 

Here. 

Her face dropped into an expression that read “seriously?” as she swatted at the air around her. “And where the fuck is here? I still can’t see you, only hear you.” 

Look left. 

The idiot looked right. I sighed and shook my head, am I really meant to trust Eliza to sell my house to the right candidate when she can’t tell left from right. 

Other left. I grumbled. You should write an L and R on your hands. 

Eliza clicked her tongue and went in search of a chair for me. “Listen grumpy, you are lucky I keep you company.” Her voice traveled down the hall and into the storage closet. She came back a moment later with my fathers wooden stool. He carved out bear paws for the legs of the chair. I smiled remembering the name, Boon. 

She set the chair beside me and gestured for me to sit. “Your throne awaits you.” 

Did the other guests like the house? I asked. I knew the answer already, the disgust was written across their features as they walked through the house. I only wanted someone to see the beauty in its history. Fix it up a little, but keep the house a home. 

“Their budget was too low. They weren’t willing to meet at the asking price since they would need to tear nearly every room apart to fit their liking.” Eliza had begun working on the cork. This became a weekly ritual, gathering at the kitchen island to discuss the future tennent. 

Humans these days were too obsessed with having perfect homes. I’ve seen what the newer houses look like. Eliza brings me magazines every month for me to flip through when alone. I can understand people no longer like tiled floors that make you dizzy, I glanced down at the kitchen floor. The triangle tiles of black and white were enough to give me a headache when I was alive. 

“I’m sure we will find someone suitable for this place. It’s taking longer than expected but it’s for the best.” 

It’s been years, decades, far too long since I’ve been dead. I stared at my reflection in the glass. A mist. That’s all I had dwindled down to. People call it a shadow, but I look like the morning mist creeping over the hills of a silent town. 

“What’s the story behind this wine? You always tell me their stories.” She pushed the bottle to me, turning the label away from her.

The letters were all faded, the paper slightly scratched off. I knew it well, my wedding. 

Will you interrupt like last time? I asked to which she shook her head and scooted her chair closer. 

I died in 1962, I had only gotten this house from my father in the year of 60. He had revamped the kitchen and dining room as my gift. Him and mother decided to leave back to London once I was wed. 

My husband was a kind man, hardworking and always pushing for children. I had only turned 19 when we were married. It’s rather young I guess. I paused and looked over to the frame hung above the kettle. I loved him so, and thought he felt the same. But love can change as two people grow. 

His behavior began to change in 61. He would stay out later and return home a mess. He disliked when I brought those nights up. The marriage soured and he moved out. I bought that wine the night he left, I kept it safe downstairs, hoping to pull it out if he ever returned. 

“My grandmother said you remarried.” She slumped to the table and pressed her cheek against the counter. 

I was going to. Lenard and I had met through a mutual friend. He was handsome, young, and so sure of himself. I was rather surprised he asked me on a date. I chuckled. I can remember his cheeks had a slight blush as he approached me in the grocery store. He was full of confidence and yet he dropped a glass of milk, his hands must’ve been sweaty. 

“Why didn’t you marry him then?” 

The date was set, I had the local seamstress make my dress. I went to sleep the night before the wedding and that’s the last memory I have. My mood dimmed, the lights flicker as my thoughts drift to my last night living. 

“I was hoping people wouldn’t research the property until the deal was closed.” Eliza sighed, “The Cortin family nearly closed but pulled back at the last moment. That guy was the last to respond to the listing in months.”

You should just move in here. I dropped my head to the counter and closed my eyes. The last thing I want is for my home to be destroyed. 

“The last thing you remember that night was sleeping?” Her voice muffled from the counter.

The doorbell rang, but I was too comfy to move from my bed. I fell asleep sometime after that. We sat in silence, heads resting against the cool countertop. Her glass sat empty while mine remained full of the red wine. 

Her breathing evened out, I took in the subtle movement of her shoulders as she slowly fell into sleep. The house rested alongside her while I stayed awake. The grandfather clock chiming, rattles the bones of the house. The flicker of lights bat away the mice. 

Eliza stirred from her snooze and looked around the kitchen. “Are you still here?” 

Yes, where else would I go? I hummed. The window facing the back of the house became crowded with gray clouds. It’s going to rain soon, are you spending the night? 

“I think I might. Mind if I take a bed?” Eliza collected the cups and placed them in the sink, filling with water and soap. 

I have no use for them, be my guest. I pointed out.

I followed behind her as we walked to the master bed, the stairs groaned at the weight of a human walking up them. The third door on the right, she always left it open for me to wander in and out. 

“Close your eyes even if you can’t sleep. At least daydream.” She threw back the new covers and climbed into the satin sheets. Her blond hair splayed across the pillow as she reached to turn the lamp off.

The cold does bother my eyes. I humored her. 

Dring…Dring…The doorbell chimed causing her to sit up, my misty form to become smoggy. 

Expecting anyone?