Chapter 1

My name is Vanessa. I am a thirty-year-old woman who recently lost her beloved husband to a war overseas. I recently moved to Washington state to this old house in the country, which was previously owned by an elderly woman who, can I say is a shut-in. She was getting down on her health as I understood it and went to live with her daughter.

For this reason, she sold the house really cheap, about one-hundred-and-fifty grand, which is not bad considering the ten acres of land and the three-thousand square foot home. The house is two stories and completely furnished, mostly with old antique furniture.

I write this to document the strange occurrences going on in this house since I moved in. I never was one to believe in ghost stories or anything of the paranormal but over the past month, this house may make me a believer. Night 1 During the day, nothing happens that I can tell, the strange happenings mostly occur at night. The first started around 6 pm. I was watching America’s Got Talent on the television while eating my Chinese take-out when I felt a cold chill coming from upstairs. When I climbed the stairs, I could have sworn that I heard whispering. I checked the guest bedroom as well as the master and there were no open windows. I shrugged it off and went back down to enjoy my dinner. At 9 pm I retired to the master bedroom for the evening and began to change into my nightie when I noticed the old, gothic, full length mirror. It had some obvious wear on the edges, but for the most part was still intact. I stripped down to my underwear and examined myself in the mirror.

Up to this point I had tried to stay fit and slim for when my husband would come home from the war and I guess from this point it was just out of habit. I had an average size B-cup breast and you might say an hour-glass figure. My hair was naturally brown and I typically kept it shoulder-length. I assumed he liked me this way as he never complained.

As I looked at my reflection I pictured him behind me, holding me with his hands around my waist as he would. I wiped away a tear from my eye and began to turn toward the bed, but as I began to look away I could have sworn my reflection smiled back at me. Confused, I turned back around but saw nothing amiss. Two weeks later It was 12 am and I had lain in bed for the better of three hours and could not sleep. I longed so much for his warm embrace, for his touch. You would think sleeping alone was something I was used to by now. I guess it had been three months since we made love for the last time. At any rate, I was longing for release and my body was on fire.