Natalia Plos
“So, did you sell my house?” Craig asked.
“It’s not that easy to sell a haunted house,” Allen grumbled.
“Why can’t you grow some pretty flowers in the windowsill or sweep the floor? There’d be lines for a house with an automatic cleaning function.”
“Evil haunts don’t do that,” Craig shrugged. “I’m a very respectable and dangerous evil haunt.”
“Can’t you move into another house?”
“I can’t.”
“Well...” Allen said wistfully. “There’s still a chance you’ll find someone who likes you. And who will understand that talking to an evil haunt can be more pleasant than talking to most people.”
Natalia Plos is a horror writer. Her stories appeared in Stygian Lepus and Dark Myth Publications.
I felt weakness in my body, and then a crazy cold reached the depths of my bones. With a heaviness, the doors of the cryo chamber opened in front of me. Warm air rushed in and blew on my face, helping me regain my senses. I remembered where I was.
Two men in white robes watched my awakening.
“How many years have passed?” I asked them slowly.
“348 years. It is now 2373.”
“You woke me up. So you have found a cure for my illness?”
“We are sorry. Your account has run out of funds to support your body.”