Earlier this year we learned that there’s some serious siding damage going on in the south wall of the house. While we’ve pushed out the actual reconstruction until after El Nino, we’re still knee deep in getting our ducks in a row and the process of general contractors, financing, etc., have been all consuming. So, it’s only fitting that this comes over into spooky territory…

Erin fell asleep to the sound of the wind through the big oak tree outside and the chimes on the deck downstairs tinkling – they’d predicted the storm would hit just after midnight and if the wind was any indication, the news meteorologist with the big hair was spot on.

“You covered the patio furniture, right?” she asked. “Matt?”

“Huh?” he rustled next to her under the bedspread. “Erin?”

“Yes – patio furniture. Did you cover it?”

“Oh… yeah. Tied it down, too – winds, you know?” Matt said sleepily. As if on cue, a particularly large gust made the leaves of a branch tappity-tap on the window.

“Thanks honey,” Erin said, kissing his head before nestling into her pillow and letting the incoming storm lull her down to sleep.

Erin woke up suddenly. Something had woken her…

She held her breath and listened, really paying attention to every sound – Matt’s little snory-snores… wind and… rain against the window. Okay, the storm has hit, she thought. Something else… footsteps downstairs. She focused on the slow, measured steps… they seemed to start in the living room… walk past the stairs towards the kitchen…

Erin quietly climbed out of bed, her feet finding her slippers as she stood and pulled on her robe. She crossed the bedroom in ten quick steps. She could hear the door to the kitchen open… then close. Then the footsteps continued into the kitchen.

She quietly moved down the stairs, turned the knob on the door to the kitchen and opened it, turning on the lights. Inside, the door to every cabinet stood wide open. Every drawer pulled out to its full extension. Even the oven and microwave doors stood open.

Erin took in the sight and sighed.

“Seriously, George?”

Her gaze was caught by the bushes moving in the wind and rain outside through the window behind the breakfast table and chairs. Her eyes caught on something on the wall… a trickle of… water?

Now Erin screamed.

“Oh yeah,” Dale, the general contractor said, tracing the dried runnel of water along the wall up to a crack in the drywall with his flashlight. Shining the beam on the seam where the wall met the ceiling, his illumination showed distinct discoloration. “Definitely got some water damage there…”

“Great…” Matt groaned.

Erin’s sigh turned into a yawn. Matt had run downstairs to see what Erin had yelled about. Finding her in the kitchen, he looked at the open cabinets and said, “Oh, it’s just George again?”

“No… look…” Erin pointed at the water.

To his credit, Matt hadn’t screamed.

The storm had blown out by the time the sun had come up, but Erin couldn’t get back to sleep. Matt waited until eight to call Dale, who had just finished their bathroom renovation earlier that year. He was on his way to another job, but agreed to swing by.

Stepping outside onto the leaf-strewn wet deck in the backyard, Dale cast his light over the siding, paying careful attention to the seams of the siding. The beam of his flashlight stopped on an edge of siding about ten feet up. “Yep, that looks like it might be the culprit. Looks like some siding might have come loose and you’ve got some water getting in with that rain and wind.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Erin said.

Dale shook his head and frowned. “It’s not. We’ll have to open up the siding to see what kind of damage you’ve got going on in there. I’m wrapping up this job on the other side of town. If you want, I could probably get started on this next week – that way we could probably get it wrapped up before the next storm blows in. El Nino and all that…”

“Don’t remind me,” Matt said.

“We’re going to Vegas next week,” Erin reminded Matt.

“Oh, that’s right,” he nodded. “Do you need us to be here to start?”

Dale’s eyes surveyed the exterior wall. “Nah,” he said without looking at them. “I just need the key you loaned me last time. Nothing’s changed – no alarm? You still have that ghost… Jimmy?”

“George,” Erin chuckled. “Yeah, George is still around. That’s how I saw this last night – he was walking around the kitchen.”

Dale let out a breath. “That’d scare the dickens out of me. But I appreciate the heads up.”

Erin unlocked the front door while Matt wrestled their checked bag out of the back of the Uber. Swinging the door open, she felt something was… different. Stepping inside, she could see plastic sheeting on the floor leading into the kitchen. Following the trail of sheeting, she saw the translucent plastic tarps separating the kitchen from the construction – the drywall around the kitchen window had been replaced but not yet finished. Through the window in the fading light of evening she could see the scaffolding.

“Wow,” Matt came up behind her. “Dale’s been busy.”

Erin nodded. She sensed again that something had changed, but chalked it up to the construction. “I bet George is pissed,” she forced a laugh.

“I bet he is.”

Erin woke up suddenly. Nothing had woken her…

She held her breath and listened, really paying attention to every sound – Matt’s little snory-snores… but that was it. The house was silent. She listened longer… nothing. They’d been home for two weeks. Dale had finished up a few days earlier, and even the lingering scent of the paint in the kitchen had faded. But there hadn’t been any footsteps in the night. Cabinets were always closed…

Wait… there was a noise. Erin frowned in the darkness. Not footsteps. No, Erin listened to the sound of a chair scraping along the floor.

“What is that,” Matt whispered.

“Shh,” Erin replied. They both listened as another chair scraped along the floor downstairs. Then something heavier moved slowly along the floor. Erin shivered.

Matt looked at Erin and she nodded. Wordlessly, they climbed out of bed. Erin’s feet finding her slippers as she stood and pulled on her robe. They both crept quietly down the stairs as the sounds of chairs moving in the kitchen continued.

Matt placed his hand on the doorknob to the kitchen and gave Erin a look back before opening the door and flipping on the light switch. The overhead lights illuminated a scene that froze Erin’s breath in her chest – the chairs and table that normally sat against the repaired wall and window were all pushed back against the cabinets and stove, deliberately moved as far from the wall as the room allowed. All chairs except one, that is, which sat alone, its back against the newly finished wall facing them. Erin swallowed hard as she noticed the depression on the cushion of the chair. As they watched, the chair creaked as if under a weight.

“That isn’t George,” Matt said.

And then the lights went out.