I walked into the rental agency, past the receptionist, and marched directly into Hans Edgar’s office. He saw me coming towards the door and said to the person on the phone, “I’m going to have to call you back..” and abruptly hung up.

“Ms. Tanner, everything okay?” he asked, knowing from my demeanor and the look on my face that everything was not alright.

A thousand things flashed through my mind to say. Finally I just said, “You were right,” and dropped the keys on his desk.

I was already walking out of the office with nowhere to live when I heard him sigh and say to my retreating figure, “I’ll refund your deposit and first and last month’s rent…”

A week ago he paused before handing me the keys on the stoop of 346 Sycamore St. I was elated to get this place. Walking distance to downtown, it was a gorgeous little bungalow that should have been renting for twice what Hans Edgar was asking – for good reason.

“Now, Ms. Tanner, I know I’ve already warned you that this place is haunted—”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” I said dryly for about the fiftieth time.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and then continued, “I know I’ve already warned you that this place is haunted. Before I hand you the keys I want to tell you that if you want out of this lease because,” he held up a hand to forestall me saying again there’s no such thing as ghosts. “If you want out of this lease for any reason, you have two weeks and I will refund your deposit and first and last month’s rent, no questions asked – this is the only property I do this for.”

“Thank you, Hans, but I’ll be just fine.”

He gave me a dubious nod, dropped the keys in my open hand and said, “Have a good night, Ms. Tanner.”

That first night the footsteps started. I put in earplugs and slept like a baby in my new place.

The second night the lights in the bedroom came on intermittently as I tried to sleep. I was grateful I had my sleep mask on the nightstand.

After that, cabinets opened and slammed when I was in the kitchen. In the fogged-up mirror when I was getting out of the shower “LEAVE” was scrawled by an unseen hand.

By that point I was out of logical explanations. My pat “There’s no such thing as ghosts” felt more than a little like fading bravado as whatever it was played on my nerves one by one.

And then the morning of the seventh day I woke up to my alarm as usual, but I was surprised to see my phone screen unlocked and open to the camera app. I flipped to the pictures to see dozens of pictures of a dark room… this dark room. With my sleeping figure in the bed. The pictures kept getting closer, and closer until the camera was right up in my face. The last picture was my blurry face, eyes wide in terror.

And I don’t remember a thing.