The New Build

“Let me show you this recently renovated Victorian.” Ms. North started scrolling through photos. “It’s in great condition and priced to sell. You could move in by—”

“I told you, I need a new build.” I shuddered. “My last apartment was haunted by a murdered tenant. The rent was cheap because her ghost still walks through the place, moaning.”

My realtor gasped. “How terrible! I assure you that nobody has been murdered in any house that I list.”

I shook my head. “You can’t know what’s happened behind someone’s closed doors. Now that I can afford it, I’m going to make sure I’ll never be haunted again.”

I wound up buying a lot and ordering a custom home. My builder had the best safety record in the state. His workers muttered and glanced over their shoulders whenever I showed up to watch the construction, which was often. If only they knew that I didn’t want any accidental deaths on my property, either.

Once the paint was dry, I moved in. I went to bed early, feeling secure at last.

Wailing voices woke me from a deep sleep. Frantic, I switched on my lamp. The yellow walls were throbbing. It turns out you can’t know what’s happened behind closed doors in a paint factory, either…

Pamela Love worked as a teacher and in marketing before turning to writing.