Hopefully a little more orginal. 500 words, counting the title and my name. Hope you like it. jon It Pays To Do Research J. M. Strother The title search came back fine. But? Oh, nothing... really. He fumbled with some papers. It's just gone through a number of owners. What, is is haunted? He laughed at that. It's a good deal, Jack. You can't find a big Victorian at this price in this town. Now that's a fact. Anything else is just talk. I'll think about, Henry. I promised I'd get back to him. I went directly to the library. And there was always the local Historical Society. $145,000. That's my final offer. 145! Henry laughed out loud. But I knew I had him. That house is haunted, Henry. Now where'd you hear such stuff, Jack? I dropped the folder on his desk. The grin left his face as he flipped through the articles and coroner reports. Henry, you'd be lucky to give that house away. That's bull. This house is a steal at $175, and you know it. I collected my folder. 145, Henry. Call me if you change your mind. He called. It was a steal at 175, and even better for what I paid. But it certainly seemed to be haunted. There were lots of small unexplained annoyances. Still, I persisted, for I am not afraid of ghosts. One night I heard noises downstairs. I grabbed a heavy stave and crept to the stairs. Who's there? I've got a gun! I lied. There was a skittering sound. 'Probably just kids.' There were more skittering noises as I made my way towards the kitchen. If you kids don't scat, you'll be sorry! The basement door slammed as I entered. Okay! I warned you! I yanked open the door. The lights did not work. It figured. I gripped my cudgel and went down anyway. I was halfway across the basement when something started taking shape. Slowly, it took on the form of a man. You better get out of here! I brandished my club. He roared with laughter. I backed away, which embolden him. I was obviously not going to make it to the stairs. He suddenly rushed forward, hand reaching for me, intending to stop my heart. I dropped the staff and grabbed for his arm. His look of surprise was precious. He glared at his wrist, which I firmly held. What is this? he raged. It's time for you to go. The wail of his passing added to the rush that flowed into me. I only dimly aware that the Police had arrived. I ran up the stairs, disheveling my hair as I went. I gave them my best wide eyed look as I opened the door. We had a report of a scream from this house. I stepped aside as if to let them in. I saw a ghost! The lead officer gave his partner a knowing look. Anyone hurt? No. Sorry, buddy. We don't do ghosts. That's... that's okay. I stammered as they turned away. I closed the door and smiled. I do.

 
~jon
My Blog - Mad Utopia Writing in a new era.