Charlie

I had heard stories that the Russian Secret Service, in the height of the glory days of the Soviet Union, would break into people's houses and rearrange their furniture. And so, you, a hapless Soviet Worker, would come home one day to see that the furniture had been moved ever so slightly, not enough to be very noticeable, but just enough for you to notice it.

Of course, initially you might just discount it - maybe you had changed things and just forgotten about it, you might think. But as it kept happening you would take note of where you kept stuff more carefully, and then realize that someone was moving things around.

If you lived with your family, this would be no concern as clearly they were doing it. But if not, you would start getting troubled thoughts.

Clearly, someone else had moved your furniture around. If you were not superstitious and chalked it up to a ghost, you would think that someone had broken in just to move things around.

But that couldn't be true, could it? It would make no sense at all, and if you were to ever broach that kind of a theory with those you worked with you would clearly be labeled a madman. Why would someone break into your house just to move the furniture around, and take none of your valuables? It made no sense whatsoever.

Except it was true - that was what the government had done to those it thought were conspiring with enemies of the state in order to make them seem less credible. Or so I'd heard in some stories, as such, I wasn't sure whether this was apocryphal or not.

But my mind went to those stories, as it would, wondering if that was what had happened to me. Why though? It wasn’t like I was some kind of wannabe revolutionary leader, or had posted things on the Internet criticizing the government, or been involved in anything even remotely political in my life.

"What happened?" Stuart asked as I walked into the store the next day. No doubt this was because I looked like crap, given that I had barely slept a wink.

"I'm good, just had a wild day out I guess," I said. "Hey, I might need a day off this week, if you don't mind- I need some things to be done around the house."

"Ah, I get it- let me see if I can schedule you for either Wednesday or Thursday," he said.

I tried my hardest to focus on work, but this was the hardest night up till now given how tired I was. I made at least four obvious mistakes, and though no one called me out for it, I still felt incredibly lousy.

I was quite relieved this time when break rolled around, taking the time to rest. I thought nothing significant of it when Matt decided to sit next to me - until he spoke.

"So, you've been having some problems at your house?" he asked after we exchanged pleasantries.

"Ah, right..." I said. I didn't expect word to get out this quickly, but I should've known better. My grandfather said news got around far faster than gossiping ladies could tell it over picket fences - and in the age of the Internet it was even worse. "Yeah..."

Matt nodded. "I have a question... do you know what the house you moved into was like before you moved into it? I mean, did you look into its history?"

"No..." I said.

"And you bought it anyway?"

"My grandfather bought it some time back though he never moved in, and he wasn't able to sell it to anyone so he offered it to me at a bargain price," I said.

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He chuckled. "And what did you do to your grandfather to piss him off like that?"

"I'm... sorry?" I asked, confused.

"That house is cursed," Matt said nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather. "Oh, I've known about the Evergreen Mansion for a long time- people who go in there usually leave, spooked like they’ve seen a monster. At first no one had no idea why- but one of them got drunk in a bar and started talking about ghosts."

"Cursed?" I asked. "Ghosts?"

"We used to make a game of it, y'know," he said. "Back when I was a kid- we'd camp out outside the house and dare one another to go inside whenever it was a boring week- few of us were dumb enough to try, but we always returned bored after we went inside. I never saw a ghost, as exciting as that would've been though. Anyone who's tried to live in it... they always leave. Within weeks usually. And as the house kept changing owners, its price kept plummeting until no one wanted it anymore. I thought it was all hogwash ‘cuz I’d been inside it and nothing ever happened, but when I heard your story, it made me think the ghost part might be true." He shrugged. "If what you said happened really happened, sounds like the only logical explanation, doesn’t it?"

He took a good look at me. "What I'm saying, is that you're not going crazy - at least, I don't think so many people could go crazy at once. You are the first in a long time, though, who actually opened up about what happened instead of just leaving without telling anyone. Also, I think you’re the only one who filed a police report about it."

I couldn't wrap my head around this new information.

Was this some kind of weird hazing ritual employees of this store pulled? That they would pretend that the new guy’s house was haunted? I would chalk it all up to a prank, but Matt seemed dead serious, and given what had happened I began to be concerned.

"So... what should I do?" I asked.

"The only sane thing," Matt said as he got up. "Leave."

Was that it? Did he just not like me and wanted me to get out of town? Or was he genuinely concerned for me and wanted me to leave while I still could?

I had little time to think of it as I was so tired I took a power nap immediately after, and when I woke up I was once again dragged into the hustle and bustle of early dawn at the warehouse. Later that day, I got some restful sleep and as a matter of fact slept so well I nearly missed my shift.

"Great news," Stuart said. "You can have the day off tomorrow, shouldn’t be an issue."

"I'm sure the electrician will be shocked to know," I said, laughing weakly at my joke. Stuart didn't seem to get it.

The electrician didn't have much to say the next day either - it took him four hours just to assess what was wrong, and he said it was at least a week-long job to get things fully functional everywhere. At the very least, the glaziers were also able to drop by and they said they would have the windows mostly done by the next day if things went well. I was also glad to get some real rest even if little was otherwise accomplished.

Charlotte

You would think that anyone sane would've left by now. The police had been called, and I had decided to lay low the following night, but the man still hadn't left.

I knew this because I saw the same automobile parked outside.

Time to turn things up a notch then, I thought as I crept down the stairs.

With that said, as I took a look at the kitchen he was using - I decided upon a strategy which had worked well for me in the past. I would rearrange the chairs on the table, stacked one atop the other. It was a strange thing to do - but it was surprisingly effective when other things didn't work. I suppose the sight of them stacked that way overnight was enough to convince anyone that something supernatural was at work.

Of course, the reason that I didn't do this regularly was because I lacked the strength I had when I had been alive. Thankfully chairs were still something I could drag with some effort- though it appeared that I had overestimated myself somewhat as I lost my balance and fell off a chair I was standing on while trying to finish the pyramid, resulting in the chair I was trying to manipulate crashing down on the floor with me. It was honestly quite understandable that I would fall, I felt. I was standing upon a chair, holding another chair. It was easy to lose one's balance - but before I could move or hide, I heard footsteps.

I then saw him looking down upon me.

My nonexistent heart froze in my chest, and so I did the only thing that I could think of in the moment- I grabbed a knife from the cabinet and tried to hold it up threateningly. I was hopelessly outmatched, but maybe the sight of me wielding a knife would cause him to panic and flee.

But then something happened that I hadn't anticipated - the man, rather than running away, grabbed the fallen chair, and used it to swat me aside in a single fluid motion.