Snake Skin House

 

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Snake Skin House

            “The rent’s cheap, the walls are intact, the plumbing works, what else do you want?” Ryan ran his hand over the greying plaster walls.
            “There’s an energy here,” Sylvie murmured, breaking off as the agent returned to the room. “How old is the house?” Sylvie asked.
            The agent beamed. “Not as old as it looks, but still full of character! The rich history really adds to the, uh, air, of the house.”
            “It’s long,” said Sylvie. “A snake skin house.”
            The agent frowned, and Ryan heaved out a sigh. “And upstairs?”
            “The third bedroom, another bathroom and a small study space,” said the agent. “Quaint rooms, but bursting with potential!”
            “Can we look?” Sylvie pointed up the stairs. “Alone?”
            “I guess so,” the agent clasped her hands in front of her grey suit. “Don’t steal anything though!” She beamed at Ryan, who did not return the smile.
            Sylvie floated up the stairs, the old boards protesting her weight, Ryan trailing behind. “What kind of energy?” He said.
            “Human,” Sylvie said. “Small, neutral, I don’t feel threatened.”
            The stairs opened onto a tiny landing with three doors around it in a circle. Sylvie ghosted past the first two, and settled her hand on the knob of the third. The door swung inwards, revealing a bare room with a solitary window, overlooking the grey street, the identical houses opposite, and the rest of suburbia beyond.
            “Oh, it’s just a child,” Sylvie said, wandering into the room. She stretched her hand out into empty air, her breath visible in the cold room.
            “How’d it die?” Ryan called from the doorway.
            “He,” Sylvie said. “And badly, not enough time to let go.”
            “When?”
            “Recently.”
            “Anything else? Parents? A revenge plot?”
            “A sister,” she whispered. “He misses her. He’s lonely, confused, untethered.”
            “So, when do we ice him?”
            Sylvie whipped around. “Killing ghosts doesn’t move them on, it destroys them.”
            “I am aware of that,” Ryan said slowly. “And? When should we do it?”
            “No,” she reached her hand back into the empty space. “He’s just a boy.”
            “A dead boy,” Ryan laughed. “You just said he’s unhappy, it’d be a mercy killing.”
            Sylvie shoved her hands into her pockets and shouldered past Ryan out of the room. “This is his home. You wouldn’t have the stomach.”
            “I wouldn’t have the stomach?” Ryan grabbed her arm, stopping them on the landing. “You wouldn’t be able to stand it, that’s the truth.” He released her arm and put his hand on her cheek. “That little ghost boy? He’s not Jackie. It’s not the same as what we did.”
            Sylvie pulled away from him. “My dead brother has nothing to do with this, so don’t even try.”
            She rocketed down the stairs and into the living room. The agent looked up from picking lint off her suit and flashed a beaming smile at Sylvie. “So?”
            “It’s not for us,” Sylvie said. “Sorry for wasting your time.” She powered towards the door, but stopped in the middle of the doorway. “Also, I don’t think you should try selling this house. It already belongs to someone.”

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