Ghost Hunters
By: James Rumpel

I was in the attic, rearranging the secret storeroom, when I heard the distinct thud of four or five car doors being shut. Through the broken window, I listened to hushed voices and nervous laughter.

Two nights prior, I had decided to allow the three teenagers with their cameras and recording devices to wonder about my home. In fact, I gave them a little show. I made empty chairs rock and mysterious footstep sounds.

My gambit worked. They had returned and brought more adventurers to explore the haunted house. I glanced around the storage area, hoping it was large enough.


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