The bungalow

She heard the noises, of course it happened right after she found a comfortable spot under her down filled comforter. She strained to hear more clearly. Scratch, scratch than a pause followed by a long scrape. Wow, there must be a rodent living up in the duct work. Well, don’t get comfortable up there. Don’t make your home a luxury apartment. There is no Vacancy here she thought. She continued reading her book, it wasn’t the greatest read but it was better than television. Four hundred plus channels and half of them reality shows. Please! She had more class than getting obsessed with real housewives of trash, I mean whatever state was currently showing. She couldn’t believe how many of her friends and co-workers watched that garbage. Actually that is an insult to garbage, some rubish you can actually make art out of. “SCRATCH”. What the hell!!! That was really loud. She was getting nervous, sounded like a rodent bigger than a mouse, shit, maybe a rat. Gross, she didn’t want to deal with a huge rat! She quickly uncovered herself and put her ear to the vent floor. She strained to hear. The information she heard before buying the cute bungalow started to crop up in her brain.

“There is one piece of information I am obliged to inform you of. “ What is that?” I asked. The real estate agent seemed hesitate, then laughed nervously and uncomfortably. Well, some people say the place is haunted. “Haunted, why would they say that?” “Well, because the woman that had this home built for herself and her daughter was ecstatic about finally bringing her sick daughter home from the hospital. Her daughter had health issues, not sure exactly the issue but she had been in and out of facilities since birth. About a month after they got home and settled,