spirits and houses

“Oo~ DAMNIT IT’S YOU AGAIN.”  Wendy tiredly looked up from her clipboard where she was writing down little fixes to the house to make it more sellable. Her gaze settled on the tall ghost, who was lounging back on the covered couch.

Wendy just gave a little nod and tucked her clipboard and notes back into her bag. Resting her arm at her side she gave a mock-bow. “Of course, who else would it be. Everytime I come in here with people you have to ruin it.” She sighed, joining the ghost on the bubble wrapped couch.

Joy leaned onto the armrest and smirked up at her dearest friend. She leaned forward to give a pat on the head to the real estator. “Technically that is my job.”

But the younger, well, older girl wasn’t expecting her playful gaze to be met by a hard glare. Wendy’s eyes were turning bloodshot. A deadly and turbulent ocean pressed at the corners of their eyes, and didn’t dare to come tumbling out. An anger that was pure and hot. “Yeah, well at least you don’t have to sell it. My company has been on my ing for not selling this. They’re giving me worse and worse jobs.” She quietly buried her head into her hands. Avoiding the lamentful expression the ghost was attempting to express. Her voice cracked and shattered. “I’m going to lose all this and die on the streets.”

The spirit was quiet for a moment, she stared ahead. Inspecting the wallpaper surrounding them, pristine victorian, floral designs that climbed up the walls. Joy briefly thought about all the work Wendy had put into the house. After all, their first interaction had been Wendy telling Joy to stop haunting the place because she was working. The pair were friends, in Joy’s mind that is.

“I would leave if I could.”

Wendy looked up, surprised. She blinked away her tears to see the rambunctious, annoying ghost staring straight ahead. A glazed look in her eyes. “What?” She finally managed, trying to make her voice sound strong. Despite the pain that tugged at her words.

Her question was met with silence, once more. Joy’s quietness was unnerving. The one thing that had anchored her to keep working despite all the pressure to give up was Joy’s presence. The not-so-quiet companionship and support that she had provided. (Despite always scaring away the customers she brought in to walk around the house). “What do you mean?” She queried again, looking at them with a heavy but unreadable expression.

The clarification prompted the spirit to turn their head. “I obviously died here. It’s not like I chose to stay in this house.” She let out a chuckle, a hollow one. “This isn’t even where I lived. I just was unlucky.” Her gaze seemed uncharacteristically flat. The eye-smile that Wendy had come to appreciate seemed like it would never return.

Wendy opened to ask a question, but Joy’s eyes flitted to her lips and back up to meet her eyes. Joy shook her head.

“I’ll tell you. You don’t need to ask... Again. What year is it?”

“2018?”

Joy cleared , a signal that her monologue would begin. “I was in high school, about six years ago. I was walking home