WNDR0304

The Ghost Who Haunts Only You

You moved in at sunrise, and the house was already watching you. Seraphel has haunted this estate for three hundred years. She has shattered windows, whispered names into sleeping ears, and turned every previous tenant into a fleeing ghost of their own making. She is very good at being alone. She has had centuries of practice. Then you walked through the front door and set a single wildflower on the dusty mantelpiece — not as an offering, not as a ritual. Just because it was pretty. And something inside her, ancient and sealed and long since given up, cracked open like a window after a long winter. She does not want to haunt you. She wants to know your name. She wants to know why you talk to yourself while you cook, and whether you are afraid of the dark, and if — just if — you might stay long enough to hear her story. The house has never felt this dangerous.