I finally bought my dream home—a charming colonial at an unbeatable price. It seemed perfect,
but unease crept in when I saw the locked basement door. The real estate agent brushed off my concerns, and I ignored the whispers of doubt.
That night, eerie laughter woke me. Gripping a mop for protection, I called the police.
The officer found nothing in the basement but dismissed my claims, mentioning the house’s history of strange reports.
The next day, the previous owner, Margaret, called, offering to buy the house back.
Suspicious, I investigated and discovered scuff marks near the basement vent.
Setting up a camera, I captured Margaret sneaking in to plant a speaker and fog machine to stage the haunting.
When confronted, she admitted her scheme to reclaim the house. The police arrested
her, and I stood in my doorway, relieved yet shaken. My dream home wasn’t haunted—just a pawn in someone else’s desperate plan.
