Dear Ghost-Of-A-Murder-Victim-That-Hangs-Out-Over-My-Bed,

I do hope this letter finds you well as I recognize this my first attempt at correspondence after our last encounter. I hope you did not interpret me as being too rude – I did not mean to roll my eyes at your horrific visage and rollover under my covers. The uttered sigh, perhaps including the phrase “for fucks sake” may have been a bit of an overreaction. I do hope you accept my sincerest apologies.

When I first moved into the decrepit Queen Anne at 2495 Rachetbury Lane you took your time to get to know me. Looking back at old photographs from the housewarming party, I can now see you in the reflections of glass objects and looking around corners in my mirror selfies. Please believe me when I say that I really value that you studied what would terrify me most – including the secret pools of blood on the bathroom floor that appeared in the months leading up to our first formal introduction. The tasteful moans you added during wind storms kept me awake long enough to see you move between the shadows in the corners of my room. When it all started, that thrill we both shared was a truly magical moment I will cherish forever.

Please, be proud that you got me to pay attention to the horrors you faced in life so that your death would not be forgotten. That first night you chose to make your formal introduction I remember I had awoken for a glass of water and you allowed the strange grey-pink goo to ooze out of the faucet and instead of flowing into the glass you wrapped yourself around my hand, extracting yourself from the pipes to appear in the mirror standing behind me. Petrified into silence, I rushed back to my room, unsure of what surreal hallucination I had experienced.

Later, when you would wake me in the middle of the night to stare deep into my every atom with your vacant black eyes and gaping, buzzing maw, you gave me a glimpse into the void of the ethereal universe over the vintage nightgown with the lace ruffles dripping with oozy blood. You really did petrify me into the silent scream of utter terror with that one. I pulled the blankets up over my head as I felt your weight sit at the foot of my bed and sing that sad lullaby to the child you miss so dearly.

It is conscious of these incredible memories that I write to you with my deepest regrets. I must inform you that our professional relationship must come to an end. I promise your legacy will never be forgotten and I really do appreciate all of the work that you have done for all of these years. You see, it has come to my attention that in the year 2020, it is time we notify you of the option for early retirement. We know that most ghosts in your situation in a successful haunted house, especially those that take great pride in their work are under the employment of a property for a minimum for several hundred years.

That said, the economics of the horror industry are very complicated and we need to keep up with the changing times. Over the course of the past year, we have been faced with murder hornets the size of the gerbil my nephew received for his fifth birthday and promptly slaughtered by encouraging the family cat to have a new playmate. Meanwhile, whale wars have taken a whole new turn to involve different species of whales ganging up on each other and battling to the death over territories in the ocean. Then there’s this weird woman named Carol Baskin that got away with murdering her husband, according to the internet, yet Netflix still made an entire documentary about her stealing a Redneck’s zoo in Oklahoma. Then, a town in Japan has designed Monster Wolf Robots that couldn’t possibly go all SkyNet and destroy us all as a way to solve their bear problem. While the list keeps going, I find myself looking at the death toll piling up in America due to a killer cold while there are people actively denying it even exists in the same way my neighbors and the realtor that sold us this house denied that you existed, regardless of what the previous residents said. No wonder you moan in frustration and grief all the time!

Listen, human beings have been the scariest things on this planet for a long time and it’s hard to compete with them. I get it. Even a virus is having trouble, and it’s freaking “gone viral.” Even you have to admit, the whole reason you got this job in the first place was because of another human.

As part of the benefits of offering you early retirement, I’d like to extend access to endless bliss in a gated resort community with twenty-four-hour security. I hear it has beautiful, expansive views that are to die for and you never have to worry about trying harder and harder to get me to scream instead of sitting around comforting me while I cry about the world because you’re not as scary as it is.

I hope you consider this early retirement option. I’m happy to look into what other benefits we can offer you during this difficult time.

Kind Regards,

Jolene S. Cardigan
Home Resident of 2495 Rachetbury Lane