Ghost - Episode 1
by Caroline Renee Mills
So how's the new house?
It’s weird to live away from you, Mom and Dad…
But the view of the lake is great.
And so are the new appliances—
All of them are stainless steel.
But to be honest with you…
I think the house I bought is haunted or something.
Freaky!
No, really.
I keep my books in order by author…
But Little Women keeps ending up in the wrong section.
So…
Ghosts?
The pillows on the couch are all smushed each morning, too.
Like someone has been sitting there.
London…
I left some mail by the phone earlier.
I ran some errands…
But when I came home…
The mail was on the coffee table.
Have you been working 80-hour weeks again?
No, actually.
I'm only teaching 3 classes this term.
But I've been offered a research fellowship, too.
You should probably take time off.
You need some rest, Lon.
Probably.
I take sleeping pills to get my brain to be quiet and I still wake up exhausted.
So how's your DUI treatment program, BTW?
OMG.
I don't have a problem with alcohol, okay?
I'd had 2 beers when the cop pulled me over.
I didn't mean to upset you, Liv.
I love you.
I love you, too.
But TTYL.
5 days later
Something's really strange about the house, Liv.
What are you talking about?
You know the magnetic poetry I have on my fridge?
All of the French words?
Oui oui.
Well, some of them keep getting switched around.
And the text I've been reading for work—
The bookmark is never where I left it.
So you still think the house is haunted?
I don't know.
I've never really believed in ghosts.
But I keep my stuff in order, so I know when stuff’s been moved.
I am baffled, TBH.
Have you talked to anyone about the house?
Other than me, of course.
I said something to Dad.
But he thinks I'm being paranoid or something.
I'm here for you.
Thank you.
Oh—
I emailed you some links to job websites.
Have you looked at them yet?
I don't wanna mop floors at the senior center, London.
Or wash dishes at some crappy chicken shack.
I'll keep looking, okay?
Okay.
Maybe you should get some sage.
You know…
For all of the ghosts.
3 days later
London…
I found something out about your house.
Something really freaky!
What?
So I applied for the job at the senior center…
And I talked to some old lady from your neighborhood.
She said she knew of a previous owner—
A woman who committed suicide in 1943.
OMG…
Yeah. Her husband went off to war…
And she became obsessed with keeping the house clean for him.
Weird. Sounds like some strange combo of feng shui and the Good Wife's Guide…
So what happened to her?
Her husband was killed in France…
So she hung herself in the attic.
She wasn't found for weeks.
Goodness gracious…
I know. Have you checked the attic, Lon?
Not yet.
I think I need a break from all of the ghost stuff, TBH.
But I'll take a look around…
Soon.
6 days later
I looked in the attic, Liv.
And I found a vintage brooch…
Like, the kind women wore in the 1940s.
OMG, really?
I’m getting more and more creeped out here.
Sometimes when I wake up…
The oven is on.
What?! That’s so creepy.
Maybe the war widow is making a casserole.
Seriously!
Or the oven could be broken, London.
And the brooch is not proof of a ghost.
Okay, okay.
I’ll call a technician to look at the oven.
Good.
So how’s the apartment search going?
Did you check out that complex I told you about?
The hell hole on South Street?
I was rejected because of my credit.
So I’m still here with Mom and Dad.
You’ll find something, Liv.
I believe in you.
Yeah…
But you also believe in ghosts now.
6 days later
The brooch is gone, Liv.
I keep it in my jewelry box…
But it’s missing, along with my pearl earrings.
Do you think I’ve been robbed?!
Has anything else of value been taken from the house?
No, actually.
All of the art and technology’s still here.
So it’s probably not a robbery, Lon.
Yeah. Maybe the war widow needed her brooch…
And she could’ve liked the pearls!
WHOA.
Calm down, okay?
I’m getting really worried about you.
Dad said you seemed off when he came by yesterday.
Off?
Rattled.
And he saw the sage, London.
You told me to burn sage because of the ghosts!
I was being a goof.
Look—
You need some sleep, okay?
Take a Tylenol PM and relax.
I’ll text soon to check in.
4 days later
Olivia...
All of the clothes hanging in my closet…
Have been turned inside-out.
What?
And the bottles of liquor in the kitchen—
I think the war widow is taking sips out of them or something!
Are you okay?
I don’t know.
I’m so freaked out by the whole thing.
The suicide from 1943…
The brooch in the attic…
I think I’m gonna check into a hotel.
London…
You’re not actually being haunted by a war widow’s ghost.
The technician checked out my oven, Liv.
The thing works fine.
If there’s no ghost in my house…
Then who the heck has been messing with all of my stuff?
Honestly…
It’s probably you.
Excuse me?!
You’ve been working too much, Lon.
You might be moving things around and then forgetting about them.
Have you thought about talking to a counselor?
I don’t need a counselor—
I need an exorcist!
6 days later
I've been fired from the school, Liv.
OMG.
Why?
I've been missing meetings…
Cancelling classes…
All to research exorcisms!
You're obsessed, London…
I'm being tormented!
I went to grab some coffee earlier…
And when I came home…
The dishes in the sink were clean.
The war widow washed them, Liv!
Please…
I'm getting really worried about you.
I'm afraid for you, too.
I don't think she likes me being in her house.
Maybe she’s angry that I'm making more work for her or something.
What are you talking about?
The family photos I keep on the mantel…
She scratched out my eyes in all of them.
3 days later
I think I need a doctor, Liv.
Why?
Are you okay?
After I burned some sage, I took Tylenol PM.
But when I woke up…
The kitchen was on fire!
I must have fallen asleep with the sage still burning!
Holy crap, London!
Call 911!
I already doused the flames with the extinguisher.
But I could've been killed!
All because I believed in a ghost.
You don't anymore?
No…
I know it’s not the war widow.
Not anymore.
The next morning
In the faint, pink glow of dawn…
London checks into a psychiatric hospital.
She weeps when the doctors take her in…
But Olivia is quiet.
She knew about the spare key in the plotted plant at London's house.
Between all of London’s sleeping pills and hours at work…
Olivia could sneak in and out like a ghost.
No more Pretty Little London, PhD…
And no more Loser Liv—
Problem child.
In the bathroom of the asylum…
Olivia smiles at herself in the mirror.
The pearl earrings look good on her, too.
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