The Ghost On The Stairs

The ghost was starting to irritate me. I’d first noticed it hanging around in the stairwell to my flat, hiding in the flickering shadows cast by a misfiring neon light. Strobing in and out of sight with each explosive bang of the ignition it raised its head and stared at me every time I passed.

I’d ignored it for the first week or so – most things that just turn up like that only last a short while before either moving on or dissipating. There was nothing in the recent past that might anchor it as far as I knew – no sudden deaths or crimes of passion. This sort of thing isn’t unusual for me, which is why I seem to be handling this with such nonchalance.

I suspect if I were like most people and this were my first encounter with a spirit of any description I’d be a lot more freaked out. If I had to try and pin down why I see and hear what I do, I think its best described as actually paying attention.