I sigh as I get in bed and pull up the covers. It has been a thoroughly exhausting day, and I’m in dire need of a few hours rest. As I roll over, I notice a light on downstairs. I could have sworn I’d turned them all off, but so far, it’s just been one of those days. As much as I would love to ignore it, I know I won’t be able to fall asleep. I groan and reluctantly leave the warmth of my bed.

My mission accomplished, I crawl back into bed. Five minutes later, not quite awake, I hear running water. I exit my cocoon of warmth once again, and gingerly walk across the cold wooden floor to the sink.

Back in bed once again, I decide that nothing short of a fire will get me out of bed again.
Then I hear someone starting the stove.I try to convince myself that I’m just hearing things, because there isn’t anyone else in the house. I don’t believe in ghosts… I should have listened to the realtor when she told me the place came with it’s very own ghost. Now I’ll never get any rest.