No Ghosts Here
No matter what you might think, I don’t believe in ghosts. Yes, I know when you came to visit you heard strange wailing sounds all night long. Old houses do that. As I told you, it was probably the plumbing or just creaky floors. I’m used to it, sleep like a baby every night. You really didn’t need to run screaming from the house in the middle of the night. All the neighbors saw you and now it’s the favorite conversation at the pub. They don’t need any more encouragement; they’ve been talking about that ghost for as long as I can remember.
Townspeople say her name is Abigail and she was a servant at the manor, that she bore a child from the unwanted advances of the master. When the baby was born, the master turned her out. Or at least he tried to, but instead of leaving, she jumped off the roof leaving her new-born baby in the care of the saddler’s family. That’s just the kind of story that pub-crawlers would make up. It’s silly, don’t you think?
Now that you’ve had time to think about it, I’m sure you’ll agree – there are no ghosts here!
I put the letter in an envelope, sealed it with wax, and put it in the silver tray for out-going mail.
“There, that will get them going.” I turned and smiled at the beautiful woman in the long, old-fashioned dress. “Eliza is a notorious gossip, so we can count on her to spread the word. It’s time the larger world heard the story!”
My dead mother Abigail flitted around the room, practicing her scariest wailing sounds. She had already scared everyone away so that I could buy the manor for a song. Now we would turn the house into an inn, spread rumors and get rich!
We both collapsed laughing, already counting the profits from the No Ghosts Here Inn.