The Ghost Writer

I moved into the Hartley House yesterday, the scene of multiple grisly murders spread out over several decades. I wanted inspiration, wanted to write the ultimate horror novel. I figured if I immersed myself in that type of atmosphere I would have no trouble.

I got my manual typewriter, still my favorite method of writing, and waited. Nothing happened. Night came and I went to bed, not the least bit frightened.

This morning, I got up and went to the typewriter; three words had been typed: GET OUT NOW.

I moved into the Hartley House yesterday. I moved out today.