It's the same every night: the waiting, otherworldly forms, thronging the hallway, packing the stairs.
Almost the same. Different individuals. He tries not to see their faces, or their strange attire. He'd avoid them altogether, but the waves of disappointment linger, tainting his home.
He hurries through the ordeal, looking neither left nor right as he passes between them. The buzz on his appearance, the fusillade of flashes...and always, as he escapes through the wall that hadn't been there in his time, the same theatrical announcement:
“And that, folks, is why this is the most haunted house in England!”
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