This story is inspired by 
Edited by @RhondaK in 
Molly’s hope dwindled when Mrs. Williams looked at the house and said, “It’s awfully gothic. Are we visiting a tomb?”
Should they bother going inside? In the twenty-three months she worked for Elected Brokerage, they’d only given this house to a realtor who was on their way out the door.
“Come inside and see how the light shines through the windows.” Molly did her best to sound genuine.
“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Williams.
Here it comes.
Mrs. Williams lowered her voice, “I’ve heard rumors that this old church is haunted.”
Damned locals. Everybody in town had their own two-cent experience with an apparition in the window or a strange noise they heard passing by. Molly didn’t believe in haunted houses. She could sell this. She had to sell this, but trying to sell it to Mrs. Williams could ruin her reputation with the elite class of clientele that kept the company going. She’d cut herself on a double edged sword.
“Mrs. Williams, I brought you to this house because it’s a perfect way to find out what you really want. You can tell me what you don’t like about it, and I’ll find you the home of your dreams.”
Mrs. Williams brightened. “Oh! Whew! I was hoping you didn’t mean to sell me this old thing. I’ll hold out for my dream house.”
Nice save. Now to waste time talking about all the reasons most people don’t want to live in a drafty old church.
Molly unlocked the rustic door and creaked it open. Dust particles shimmered in the window light. This visit would serve as a bonding experience between Molly and Mrs. Williams, a story she could tell to her network.
That evening, Molly unlocked her apartment door and let out an exasperated sigh. She dropped her purse to the floor inside. Her whole day had been wasted trying to sell the old church house. She fed Whiskers and poured herself a glass of wine. She crossed out the last name on her list of potential buyers and rested her head on her arm. She’d never felt so useless. It was time for the real work to begin.
Whiskers rubbed his black fur against Molly’s leg. She picked him up. “Hey there, buddy.”
Someone somewhere would be interested in owning that old church, but they wouldn’t be from the typical demographic. She thumbed through the phone book for ideas. Her browsing stopped on the Yellow Pages ad of a local fortune teller.
Molly tore off her pointless list and started a new one. She jotted down the locations of all local fortune tellers, astrologists, and psychics. Then she put together a flyer showcasing the old church. She used the best photos of the morning light shining through the windows. She gave it a feel of genuine honesty by mentioning, in fine print, that the house may be haunted.
The next morning, she woke early and spent the day pinning up her flyers. Her phone began to buzz before she’d hung the last one. Excitement lifted Molly’s heart. She really would sell the house no other realtor could sell.
Molly answered with a smile, “Molly Makeshift with Elected Brokerage. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, we’d like to see the house at 113 Archer Avenue.”
Molly paused. The voice had a tinge of impatience. “Wonderful. If the house is still available after our first showings tomorrow we can get you scheduled.”
“How soon can we come and see it? We’re available now.”
Demanding, huh? Molly loved demanding, it meant she had a motivated buyer on the hook.
“I’ll tell you what, Ms...?”
“Lavender.”
“Ms. Lavender, I can meet you at the property and give you a look around the outside in ten minutes. How’s that sound?”
“We’ll be there.” The line went dead.
Molly rushed to her car and drove to the old church. In the darkness that swallowed the place after sunset, Molly unlocked the door to turn on all the porch lights. An evening breeze sang through the closed windows like the voices of ghosts at a party. At least she could show the Lavenders the yard in the moonlight and talk about the herbal gardens. With any luck, some lavender bushes would be in bloom.
Not quite ten minutes later, a black Honda parked in the driveway. Molly tried to appear calm. Two people were in the car. The woman she assumed to be Lavender stepped out of the passenger side. The driver might be Lavender’s son, though perhaps a bit too old. Molly tried not to lose hope at the sight of the old car and odd family. They could have good credit.
Molly smiled and reached to shake Lavender’s hand, but Lavender was busy fiddling with an odd recording device and didn’t respond. The younger man opened the trunk and took out some tripods and equipment.
What in the world?
Lavender began giving the young man instructions, “Set a camera up near each window.” Then she addressed Molly. “How long can we stay?”
“Stay? Oh, uh, would you like me to show you around the property? There’s a lush, uhm, herbal garden.”
“Excellent,” answered Lavender, “How old is the house?”
Down to business, then. “It was built in the early 1900’s, but it’s had many renovations.” This wasn’t about making the sale. Who were these people? They took more photographs of the house than anyone needed.
The next morning Molly had an early showing booked with a Stanley Huff. She arrived early and opened the windows to let fresh air into the dismal home.
Stanley arrived and introduced himself. “I’d like to set up some equipment inside if that’s alright with you. I want to talk to the spirits in this house before deciding if I should move in.”
She couldn’t say no to the friendly request and sat listening as Stanley used a spirit box to communicate with the dead.
“What do you call the place where you are?” Stanley asked the screeching static noise.
A jumbled array of echoes more incoherent than an infant’s gurgle gave the illusion of a response.
“Tell me who you are,” Stanley ordered the static. He translated the noise into a name. “Billy, are you good or evil?”
According to Stanley’s interpretation, angels were coming to protect them. Billy had been invaded by six other spirits who prevented him from saying much.
Stanley finally seemed bored with his experiment. “I’m getting exhausted.”
That made two of them. “How do you feel about liv-”
Stanley interrupted her to tell the ghosts to stop their screeching noises. “You have to respect my boundaries.” They obeyed when he turned off the speakers and stopped recording.
“The spirits here aren’t comfortable with me,” Stanley explained after an hour of arguing with the static.
“Thank you for your time Mr. Huff. I’m sorry the spirits here don’t agree with you.” Molly shook Stanley’s hand and he left with his equipment.
Things didn’t get any better. After a day spent entertaining college students with a ouija board, a woman who wanted the spirits to possess her tarot deck, and a trio of excited ghost hunters, Molly locked up and went home.
Her voicemail was full, showings were booked, and everyone was a looky loo. If anybody who showed up had an interest in buying the house, they would no doubt change their minds the instant they saw the crazies. Her career as a realtor would be dead. Nonetheless, she had to prepare for an open house.
Whiskers jumped into Molly’s lap. “You would not believe the folks I met today.” She scratched under his chin. “They would have loved you. I should bust out that brain-shaped jello mold to make a centerpiece for the snack table tomorrow.” Molly laughed as her kitty rolled over for a belly scratch. She loved making spooky treats. Why not have some fun? Molly poured a glass of wine and got to baking.
She stayed up all night. She pulled out the seasonal decorations and spent the morning at 113 Archer Avenue decorating the house for Halloween. This had become her end-of-a-career party. After she set the table she sat back and wished that Whiskers was there with her. He was the one thing missing.
The doorbell rang. Molly answered and couldn’t wait to show her handiwork. All the people she’d expected streamed in one after another. Lavender and her crew met the ghost hunters. Everyone stayed to chat with everyone else. Conversations filled the home. Every room brought people together with common interests. An open house had never been so successful at introducing people. It really did become a party.
Molly thanked everyone for coming, and told them the home had sold to someone who wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast. She let them know they’d all be welcome back to visit and stay any time.
Then she went back to the apartment and got Whiskers. Time to show him his new home.
My endearing gratitude to @RhondaK for all her hard work as an Editor in
