The Haunted House of Desire

I had spent three years looking for a house. It sucked. Not that I was out on the street or anything - I was renting a cozy little apartment - but I really wanted a bigger place. This one, there was always clutter all over just because I didn't have a place to put anything. Sports bag, stacks of papers, computer stuff, books... it was all just sort of lying around. I had no bookshelves, no storage areas... No real 'home' for anything. Honestly, I felt like I'd been in student dorms bigger than this.

The only good thing was the location. It was really close to work, I could get there by bus in just fifteen minutes. That was the main reason I hadn't moved out; I just didn't want to move too far away so that I'd have to spend hours commuting to the office. The problem now was that homes in this area were really expensive. Either that or they needed a ton of refurbishment.

I had some money saved up and the bank where I worked were willing to grant me a mortgage for the remainder I needed, but I still wasn't loaded. A single guy in his twenties wasn't going to be able to buy a really expensive house, and it was a house that I wanted. I'd grown up in one, in the suburbs, and I wanted one with a nice garden. That was my dream.

Not to mention that a one-room apartment with a kitchenette didn't really work as a chick magnet either. I'd had one girl come over once after we'd been to a party at a friend's place. Moving from there to my little hole for a nightcap, she was... unimpressed. I couldn't help but think that if I'd had a nicer place to show my prospective paramour, I might have gotten lucky that night.

Having gone to showings and looked at ads for several years without success, I was getting really frustrated. I felt like it was a real possibility that I'd have to move further away, possibly even relocate to another city, changing jobs in the process. Not being a fan of big changes in my life, I didn't want that. So I kept at it - looking for my dream house. Maybe expanding the geographical area in my search a smidge. And another smidge.

One evening, one of those online searches pinged. At first, I got annoyed just by looking at the photo in the ad. Clearly, this was a property out of my league. Sometimes, homes would be pitched to me even when their prices were set higher than I had specified in my search. Out of habit, I scrolled through the ad really quickly and noticed that the price was actually within my range.

All right, I thought. So the problem must be something else. A so-called "fixer-upper", maybe. Whenever real estate agents use those words, what they mean is that the property is actually falling apart and needs to be renovated for hundreds of thousands of dollars. I couldn't afford that kind of thing.

I kept reading. The photos of the house actually looked really good. The ad also said that the building was recently refurbished. New electrical system, plumbing less than twenty years old, the roof had been done... So what was the problem? The location, maybe? I double checked the map. Nope. That was also good - in the suburbs right next to a park, less than a half hour drive from work.

I read through the ad again, a bit more thoroughly this time. It seemed perfect. Too perfect. Over the past couple of years, I'd seen several properties in worse shape sell for more than this. There was no way this house shouldn't sell for a hundred grand more than its list price. There just had to be a catch somewhere.

Since sending a message didn't cost me anything, I decided to contact the estate agent to see what was up. Because it was late in the evening, I knew I probably wouldn't get a reply very quickly, so I thought nothing more of it and went to bed.

The following morning, though, I still had no reply. I went in to work as usual, checking my messages every once in a while. Still nothing. Maybe they were really busy? I sent off another message, inquiring into the property, thinking that they would surely reply more quickly this time.

They didn't. This was getting weird. Most of the time, the agents are really eager to get you to showings. They can actually be really pushy, to the point of pure annoyance. I mean, were they somehow not interested in selling this thing, or...?

I put the matter aside for a while. Maybe the agent was just really busy with something else. I wasn't really supposed to be house hunting during work hours anyway, so I didn't check my messages again until lunch. At that point, there was indeed a reply in my inbox.

"Good afternoon, Sir. The property is indeed up for sale at the listed price. Would you be interested in a showing later today?"

Okay, that was more like the speed I'd expected. A showing right away, even. The message went on with a few more formalities, but I didn't read it all and figured I'd just set up a time to go and see it. I had done this part before - attend showings, that is. Somehow, though, I had always either found something badly wrong with the place... or someone else had bought it before I could. I had gotten used to that by now. I guessed this could be another one of those times, where a dozen people all try to bid for the same property, easily outbidding me and my small budget. Steeling myself for disappointment, I confirmed the appointment and went back to work.

I clocked out a bit early, headed home to grab a quick dinner and then went to see the house just before six o'clock. It wasn't hard to find. The bus service went past nearby and it was only a few minutes' walk to the property, and when I arrived, it seemed clear to me that this was not going to happen.

The house looked perfect. It was a big, two-story building in the folk Victorian style, originally built in the late 1800s. A bit old, yes, but really well maintained and - as the listing said: recently refurbished. There was also a big garden with lots of green grass and several medium-sized trees, and a nice (if a bit run-down) picket fence surrounding the property.

I was a few minutes late to the appointment, so I expected to see a crowd of people being shown around. Instead... nothing. Nobody. Not even the estate agent was present. I went up to the door and rang the bell, thinking he might be inside, but no. There was no one. Huh. I thought the reason the appointment had been set up so fast was that there was already a showing scheduled that I had been able to get in on, but...

Guessing he was running late too, I walked around and took a look at the property. Man, this place was amazing. Just the kind of place I dreamed about. A quiet suburban neighborhood with houses a century old... lovely gardens, big trees flanking the main road... And still, just a five minute drive away from the highway, so it wasn't far to the nearest shopping mall or indeed to my office.

This particular road was a dead end, too. No traffic running through, that's great, I thought. Also, this house was slightly off to the side, meaning the nearest neighboring one was a bit further away. Less noise - that would be great if I wanted to pick up my guitar hobby again...

Eventually, a car came driving up to the house and parked in the driveway. A middle-aged man in a suit stepped out and started coming over, but he didn't seem like the kind of estate agent I was used to. There's usually a spring in their step when they're approaching a potential buyer. This guy didn't smile that cheesy grin they all do either.

"Hi there. You're Mr. Davis, I presume?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Greg Porter, Sage & Porter Realty. Sorry I'm late, I got stuck on the highway."

"No problem, I was just looking around."

"Beautiful place, isn't it?"

"Sure is, the garden looks great. Just needs a bit of TLC."

"Well, let's show you the inside, shall we?"

There was still something off about this. As estate agents go, this one was definitely lacking enthusiasm. No smiles, no confidence in his step... The words were standard salesman talk, but his heart didn't seem to be in it. When he said this was a beautiful place, it was like an automated chat rather than a statement from someone trying to sell me on the property. It was like he... didn't care.

He unlocked the door and showed me in. For the next twenty minutes, I went through the place and checked out all the rooms. Over the past three years, I had gotten plenty of experience with showings and what to look for, so I usually went straight for those. I asked some simple questions as I went, getting single-syllable replies to most of them. I checked the bathroom and taps for leaks and drainage; the windows opened and closed properly; the electrics did indeed seem brand new; the fireplace was a bit old, but functional...

I couldn't find any problems. Nothing beyond normal wear and tear. Sure, the house was old and could probably do with some simple renovation here and there, but the really big stuff all seemed to have been done. As I completed my little tour, I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stuff like, a nuclear power plant was going to be built next door... or the previous owner had been brutally murdered in the living room.

As I walked out of the house, I was expecting the usual pitch. What did I think? Great location, right? Was I ready to make an offer? The owner really wants to make a deal, so what do you say...? But no. This Porter guy just locked up and came wandering back down the driveway. It was as if he had already gotten told that there wouldn't be any sale here today.

"So... I was expecting to see others here..."

"Others?" he replied, looking confused.

"Yeah, you know... people? Prospective buyers? Are they due later, or...?"

"Oh, that... No, not really... I mean, there's been some interest but..."

He trailed off. Again with the apathy. At this point, I just had to know what was going on.

"Look, I gotta ask... What's the catch?"

"Sorry?"

"Aw man, I've seen a lot of houses and this is by far the best I've seen in this price range. I didn't even think I could afford it, I thought the price must be wrong or something. Is there something wrong with this place? Because... I mean, when something seems too good to be true... and you don't really seem too eager to sell - what's up with that?"

Porter threw up his arms and let out a big sigh. I mean, he already seemed a bit deflated, but now he was positively flat.

"So... we've had this house on the market for a while..."

"It's not the bathroom, is it?"

"What? No, the..."

"Because I asked specifically if that was in need of renovation; I might be able to afford some things, but bathroom stuff is beyond..."

"Yeah, it's not that. Look: I'll level with ya, kid..."

Okay, finally, I thought. Here it comes. There are termites. Or Satan himself lives next door.

"Honestly, the house is good. The renovation stuff has all been done properly. I happen to personally know the owner of the company that did the electrics; they're a serious outfit, so I'm positive the house is all up to code. Still some things that can be done, of course... like the floors upstairs, some painting here and there, maybe update the kitchen... but the structure - the framework - is solid. However, there have been some reports... well, unsubstantiated claims, really... that the building may be ... haunted."

"Haunted? As in...?"

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. Porter sighed and gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah, I know. Not the kind of thing I believe in myself, but once rumors start, it's hard to stop the price from dropping."

I'd heard about this. Rumors of a house being haunted could apparently cut the price by almost a third overnight. I was still in disbelief, though; surely, most people must realize that this was just nonsense. Most people would still want to buy the place, maybe even jump at the chance at getting the place for a reduced rate.

"Well, I'm still interested. I don't believe in ghosts."

"You say that now. So did the previous buyer. Three months later we're in court, arguing over the contract because he wants out. I mean, we settled in the end but..."

He kicked a small stone into the yard and paced around a bit.

"Look, for legal reasons, we have to try to sell it, but..."

"But...?"

"But I don't really want to, kid. Look, I know Realtors are seen as greedy Wall Street assholes, but I'm not one of those sharks who dump rotten houses on people and then wash their hands of it all afterwards. The reason our company is still in business despite our small size, despite the insane ups and downs of the market... is our reputation. People around here know they can trust us. We tell them everything about the properties we sell - all the good stuff... and the bad. A lot of times, customers will still buy a house with... well, like you said, a bathroom that's falling apart. Or something like that. They plan for that. Build the renovations into their budget, you know? I personally pride myself on never having a dissatisfied customer; they should know what they're getting into when buying from us. I want to be fair. Always. This house... well, it's been trouble."

At this point, we had started wandering into the garden. The lawn was poorly maintained, tall grass was brushing up past my ankles. Several apple trees looked like they'd seen better days. It was one of those places that you really had to think about what it could potentially be like in order to see the beauty.

"So I can't buy it?" I asked, puzzled.

"Sure, but why would... It's just... Honestly, if you're interested, I'd prefer to show you some other properties we have coming up for sale - these unsuccessful sales aren't great for our reputation, you know?"

"Sales... plural?"

"Yeah..."

Porter let out another heavy sigh.

"Okay, full disclosure... I really don't wanna dupe you here. So... we've actually sold this house before. Actually... several times before. The first time was about five years ago. You know the story: little old lady passes away, the family doesn't want to keep the house and asks a law firm to take care of it... we get the job of selling it and that's that. In theory. Two years later, the owner says he's moving out of state. We sell it a second time. A lovely couple move in. Then they get divorced a year later. Their lawyers contact us. We sell it again."

I could tell Porter was frustrated. Having now started on the backstory, though, it seemed he couldn't stop until he'd gotten it all off his chest. He was pacing around in the garden, waving his arms around to emphasize his words - it was like he was giving a speech to a crowd of eager listeners.

"And these people are the ones who claimed the house was... haunted?"

"No... no, not at first. But it's hard to tell when it started... I mean, that's not the kind of thing a person wants to admit, is it. No, the reason for selling was always something else. Moving, getting divorced, defaulting on the mortgage because of the credit crunch... That's actually when we ended up owning it, as a result of the bank taking over and then selling it on to us for next to nothing because I thought I could flip it..."

He trailed off. I was beginning to feel like a therapist, letting the client talk while I just stood there, listening. I had to know more, though. I was hooked. I had to know the story.

"And then what happened?"

"Well, there were rumors. After one of the buyers got cold feet. Or cold chills, I should say. They started talking about weird stuff happening. Hearing noises. Feeling cold, then hot, then cold... After that, we had a contractor go over the whole place with a fine-tooth comb. I mean, we don't normally do anything to the houses we sell; we flip them as-is and leave the renovating to the clients, but... Jeremy - that's my partner, Jeremy Sage - he'd read something about haunted houses. That there's usually a natural explanation, you know? There's been some history of gas leaks causing chills and people feeling like they're about die and stuff... but there's no gas here anymore. Just electrics and a fireplace. This time, we checked everything but didn't find anything out of the ordinary. The house is solid. Personally, I think these things people are complaining about can all be attributed to creaking, drafts and such... I mean, it is an old building. It's just... word gets around. Especially after that last time."

"Last time?"

"Yeah... our previous client... Older man. Like you, he said he didn't buy the rumors. I mean, I tried to be accommodating and told him everything we knew, but he wanted it anyway. So he bought it and seemed happy... for a few months. Then he started calling about all sorts of weird stuff... noises, voices..."

"Voices?"

"Yeah, he sounded really crazy - he was also talking about having seen somebody in the house who suddenly disappeared... but he never had any guests."

"So..."

"Yeah..."

"Ghosts."

"Yeeeeah..."

At this point, Porter threw out his arms to the sides and gave me a look of incredulity.

"I don't know what to tell you, kid... I know it's not haunted, I guess you know it's not haunted, anybody in their right mind knows a house can't actually be haunted... But I really don't want any more of this crap. I mean, I want my clients to be happy, but when they call us to cancel a legal contract stating ghosts as the reason... Goddammit, we couldn't very well go on the record doing that, could we. But I don't want them to start a social media campaign about it either, like those relatives threatened to do. "Oh my God, this company sold me a haunted house! We should all boycott them! Aaah!" Jesus H. Christ... at this point, I'd rather not have anybody live here anymore. We had an offer from a bus company a while back - they wanted to level the site and turn it into a parking lot..."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that. It's a beautiful house."

"I know, right? Damned shame. But, like I said, there's been so much trouble with it... no matter the actual cause."

We'd ended up at the fence in the backyard. Porter was hanging over it while I looked at the surrounding area. Behind the house was a path snaking its way through the neighborhood. There was a small forest next to the property - an undeveloped part of the area, giving the house a bit of space.

I laughed. Every time. Every time I found a house that looked good, there was something wrong with it. Too far from the city. Too expensive. Needing a ton of work. Someone else snatching it before me. This time it was a freakin' ghost that was gonna stop me! I couldn't believe it. Surely it couldn't be true.

"I've been on the lookout for ... well, my dream house, if I'm honest - for several years now. Every time I find something I like, I can't afford it. I can afford this."

Porter took a long good look at his shoes before he started walking back towards the front of the house.

"Okay, listen: I really don't want a repeat of last time. If you really want this house, despite the... rumors... I'll let you stay here for a while. Try it out. The previous owners started reporting weird issues after about a month or so. Then they got cold feet and wanted to sell it, but weren't able to. That's when they came back at us."

"Okay...? So how do we do the... formal stuff? You'll excuse me but I haven't actually owned a property before."

"Normally, we'd meet in my office, do some paperwork... about the money, you have talked to a bank, I assume?"

"Yes, I have the..."

"Well, when you talk to your bank, you'll get all the guidance you need on how to set up the mortgage; they'll handle the money transfers, tell you what to sign... then they talk to us and we sort out everything for you. It's what we do every day, so it's easier for a buyer to just let us handle everything. The deed, the contract, that's what we do... Basically, my office and your bank will take care of the legal stuff. We can discuss it further if you decide to go forward with this. For now, though..."