I'm sure you've heard plenty of whispers around the little town that the big old house is haunted. People have seen faces peeking out from behind the partially boarded windows. They haven't been inside but I'm sure some would say with certainty that there is a constant presence inside the seemingly lifeless house.
I have been inside and I must say that I agree.
A chilly breeze causes me to hastily close up my jacket. Dust drifting down from the rafters falls upon my head, creating gray streaks in my hair. I roam from floor to floor trying to trace footsteps that suddenly disappear. It seems that I am always searching for something. I examine the floorboards, check around the fireplaces whose blazes died out years ago, sweep away cobwebs to see what the spiders have been hiding. I stare out the windows looking for clues. To be honest with you, I have no idea what I have been looking for but know with certainty that I will find it, even if it takes an eternity.
During my search I've encountered a number of strange phenomena. I've heard the most bizarre flapping noises coming from within the brick walled chimneys. I've stumbled upon a pile of bones in the basement. I've been startled by things that suddenly take flight in the attic. My favorite part of the house, the tower, has been overtaken by a plague of flies.
Despite all of this the strangest thing of all is what occurs when I peer out the windows that are no longer boarded up. I look down below and the people down on Main Street glance up. I know they are looking right at my hiding place, but for some reason it feels as if they are looking straight through me. I've been here for so long now that I would almost expect for people to be looking for me by now. Perhaps the whispers I've heard are wrong, maybe the ghost isn't in here with me. Maybe all of the ghosts are outside roaming the streets, unable to acknowledge me since they have already departed.