.....The Haunting of 555 Maple Avenue.....

Eloise Fish pulled back her curtains a hand's broadness, took a taste of wine, and watched the bazaar unfurling down the road. The old house four doors down was illuminated by half a dozen full-sized vans, each honking at the others, as night fell on Maple Avenue. The National Ghost Hunters crew had become involved with the Paranormal Sightings Unlimited cast, and just now, the entire Spectre Collective production team arrived with their tour bus in tow.

Eloise cooed and pecked her pet tarantula, Snuffles, as he slid down the drape.

All of the notable out-of-towners were surrounded by a group of curious locals. Everyone was there to see what would happen to the well-known Maple Avenue Haunting, from kids who were up past their bedtime to bored retirees and hopeful extras. The spooky house was known to the locals for a long time, but its story only recently made national headlines. There were even rumors that an Italian crew was planning a feature, suggesting that it might have gone global.

"Morons," Eloise mumbled, with a sneer.

During the raging arguments among the production crews, a few individuals did break ranks. If they were fighting over rights, there probably wouldn't be any filming tonight. She saw a young fellow - no, a high schooler - strolling off in the dusk, and heading down the walkway past her home. Eloise shut the drapes so tightly that only her eye could see through. It's pointless to attract unwanted attention.

And afterward her eye limited, when the high schooler halted before her home.

These days, kids were always doing bad things. It was absolutely scandalous to be outside after the sun had set, all the idlers.

The youngster noticed that the film crews were still fighting behind him. Eloise begged him to continue walking after he turned to look down the other direction. He, on the other hand, took in her home.

She shut the drapes so tightly that there was barely a needle through which to see outside.

She mumbled, "Go away."

The youngster looked at her house over and over again. He looked down at the overgrown lawn and up at the roof's peak. He concentrated on the dull windows and the desolate tree. And afterward, he began strolling down her way.

"Pissed off!" Eloise spat.

However, the child did not get upset, and when he got close to her door, she dashed out of the window. Snuffles was startled by the sudden movement, and the tarantula dashed into the house's shadowy corners.

Eloise remained in the wardrobe at the top of her front corridor. Someone pressing her dead doorbell made a dull clicking sound to her ears. And afterward, it came. Knocking. She shivered.

She whispered, "Nobody’s home, jackass."

The knocking stopped, so it's possible he heard her.

Or on the other hand maybe not, as he carried the entryway open and coincidentally found the lobby.

It took all of Eloise's effort to remain silent as she felt herself tremble with rage. The nerdy adolescent, complete with clipboard, regained his balance. She couldn't understand why anyone would use a clipboard in this day and age, especially a young person who was so dependent on their cellphones.

“Hello?” He yelled, his voice trembling. Could it be said that anyone is here?"

Eloise had drawn her lips shut.

Although the kid turned the hall's light switch, the lights remained off. After that, he had the audacity to bring out a flashlight, which he switched on. As the child approached, further invading her home, Eloise pushed herself further into the closet.

“Hello?” He called out once more. Mrs. Fish?" The wood planks squeaked under his shoes.

Eloise moved silently and stayed in the dark, low places as she followed him. At all times she willed him to pivot and leave, to develop exhausted like his lazy age was well known for, however he recently continued to walk further into her home. First, he went into the living room, where he shook some dust around. After that, he went into the kitchen and scared Snuffles, who ran under the fridge. The kid then had the audacity to climb her stairs, dragging his filthy sneakers all over the moldy carpet.

Eloise accepted the fact that this snooping brat wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, and she worried that he might do stupid things like start smoking, drinking drugs, or whatever the little reprobates were up to these days, and listening to loud music. Almost certainly he'd advance toward her review and begin relaxing on her divan.

However, no, the youngster halted at the highest point of the steps out and out, and flipped through the pages on his clipboard by spotlight. Then he glanced around and moved toward The Picture. Eloise's throat was full of air.

The Portrait was an amateur abomination that depicted a humanoid horse dressed in gentleman's attire from the 1800s, smoking a pipe, and standing in oil in a European parlor. The only positive aspect of the painting was that it was almost exactly four feet wide by seven feet tall and perfectly concealed the fact that the child had grasped the frame and moved it, revealing the door to her bedroom!

This was unseemly! To have an odd young person attack her security like this was simply excessively. Eloise rose into the air, began to glow with an otherworldly green light, and let out the horrifying keening of the long-dead as he turned the knob and pushed through yet another of her doors.

“Boo!” She wailed, floated behind him, and sprayed ectoplasmic spit all over. I yell, "Boo!"

She was disheartened when the adolescent didn't fall over dead from fear. He even didn't flinch! He simply turned around, smiled, and pointed his horrible little light at her.

"Miss Fish?"

“Boo!”

Kevin Ferguson is a member of the Briarstone High Bugle. My name is Kevin Ferguson.

“Boo–what?”

I wanted to know if I could interview you for our school newspaper.

“What!? Are you a journalist?

"All things considered, perhaps one day, ma'am. I'm just a student at the moment.

Eloise complained. This Kevin child appeared extremely young from a distance, barely old enough to be an adolescent. But maybe he wasn't as useless as the rest of his generation if he already had his sights set on a career, even if it was journalism. Denying him might even be irresponsible.

With a flick of her fingers, a phantom cigarette showed up in her grasp. She inhaled deeply.

"OK," she at long last said. " I'll do an interview with you. But in these circumstances. I stay mysterious, and you don't distribute the way that we met. Indeed, you publish that this old house is as empty as the movie studios down the street's brains.

Kevin grunted. Ma'am, anonymous That will make things challenging."

“Pshaw.” She waved her spooky smoke for accentuation. " Simply allude to me as a secret source."

“Oh! Okay, then, thanks, Mrs. Fish.

"Please, Eloise." She extended her hand.

He put his hand through hers and said, "Eloise then."

So, tell me, what were you trying to find out? I anticipate it will be about my horrific murder. Kevin followed her into her bedchamber as she floated past him. You know, this is where it took place. She made a point at the ground. I was suffocated here by the Dowager Destroyer. She murmured insightfully.

"The Greedy Destroyer?"

Oh, how charming he was. What a beautiful mustache!

"You don't look too upset about... um... being killed," I said.

Oh my goodness, no, of course not. She inhaled a second puff of smoke. Since it was so long ago, a death is, to be honest, very personal. There's a great deal of feeling enveloped with it."

“I see.” Something was written down by Kevin.

"I expect you have a ton of inquiries."

"Ah, Mrs.–Eloise. But not concerning your murder.

“Oh.” Her shoulders slightly sank.

"In fact, I was wondering if we could talk about the house 555 Maple Avenue down the street."

“Oh.” She waved her free hand around and a shocking wineglass emerged. " That's fine. She brought down it. " What inquiries do you have?”

"Well, it appears that many film crews are interested in it,"

“Mm-hmm.”

"They are investigating a rumored ghost that lives there,"

"What is it? Hey, kid, do you remember our agreement? This house is not inhabited, and especially not by me.

"Of course, yes. I won't say a word to them.

“Good.” Eloise made more wine that tasted like ghosts.

"I just looked into the rumor, that's all. It is the subject of my narrative.

“Fascinating. What does it have to do with me?

“Well, the rumor has been going around for a while now. I discovered that it began roughly a decade ago. It would appear that at that time, someone kept placing pizza orders at 555 Maple Avenue, but the house was abandoned, so naturally no one answered the door. Additionally, during their interview, the clerks stated that the voice on the other end sounded eerie.

“Okay? What's the point? A few phantoms like playing tricks, and a few phantoms have telephones."

"Enough fair. Truly, I looked into the number that called the pizza places, and at the time it was really enrolled to this location. Your home."

Eloise smiled and said, "Ah." I'm beginning to understand why I dislike journalists.

"My query is: Why bother? Why start gossip about a frightful at 555 Maple Road?"

Eloise moaned, and drifted to the window. " I was most afraid of a lonely afterlife when I died and came to this place. Be that as it may, I was dead-well known - the last survivor of the Dame Destroyer - and individuals continued creeping around my home wanting to see me. To be honest, all the attention was too much for me, and the way my voyeuristic intruders behaved was disgusting.

“I see. So you made talk so everybody could go searching for phantoms somewhere else?"

“Yes! Kevin, that is exactly it. And what's more? It turns out I like being separated from everyone else. Very much like throughout everyday life. I was a shut-in, after all! The one and only person I tried to trust ended up strangling me. Her face dropped to the ground. Then he left me as well. He stole my heart before fleeing.

"It almost sounds as though you miss him."

"If I am honest, I do."

"But he killed you."

She went to him with a motherly grin. " Kevin, yes. You are still a young man, so I'm sure it sounds strange to you. You will discover one day that love is a strange thing with its own life and little regard for our logic and reasoning.

Kevin wrote more notes.

She said, "Permit me to ask you a question now." Why seek after this story? Do high school students really care about the people who used to live in abandoned homes? I'm sure it's a compliment, but it seems odd."

Actually, I tried to get an interview with National Ghost Hunters at first. They promised to go above and beyond for me by allowing me to live in their world as a guest executive producer.

What was the outcome of that?

I basically spent all of my time cleaning up the sets and bringing them coffee. So, ok, I guess. However, one evening, as I was cleaning up after filming the season finale, everyone went to a bar to celebrate. I was by myself. The ghost then appeared at that point."

Eloise was shocked. What, wait? 555 Maple Avenue has a ghost?

"Indeed ma'am. He was also tired. He was slouched over like he was dissolving or something, and he said he was unable to take it any longer. The commotion, the guests, the consistent cameras and show - he was a detainee in his own home. He told me that his problems started about a decade ago when we talked. He informed me of the rumor and asked me to look into it so we might be able to put an end to it.

Eloise exclaimed, "Oh my goodness." I couldn't really understand. Why, I never intended to cause anyone discomfort. Gracious, I feel simply horrible! And to think that a different ghost lives just a few feet away. What is the name of the man?

"Beowulf Whickup," said Kevin.

“Beowulf?” With a smile on her face, Eloise whispered. That, however, is the Dowager Destroyer!

"Ah, ma'am. He was pursued to his residence and cornered by the police after you. There was a shootout as a result of his refusal to enter peacefully.

Eloise exclaimed, "Oh my." She was pondering something as she twirled her wineglass. Well, I just feel awful. Say, Kevin, might you at any point help me out?"

"What is it?"

"Well, I don't think we can stop this rumor in any way. However, maybe... could you make a proposal to Mr. Whickup? You understand, he could move in here for a brief period of time. Just until the media stop talking about his house.

Kevin shook his head. If you want."

"I do enjoy."

Kevin looked at his clipboard with a frown.

"Something wrong?"

"Well, I just want to know how I'm going to incorporate all of this into a story. What with all the namelessness. You probably don't want me to say that I helped another ghost move here, so I can't tell them you live here.

You are correct; I do not. However, I see your problem. She clenched her lips. Consider this: I show you the location of my previous diary.

"Um," said Kevin. " I surmise that could intrigue. What will it do for me?”

"It frames how I harmed my better half, and pulled off it."

Kevin's eyes grew wider.

"You can break the story."

“Jeez!”

You are most welcome. Eloise gave a beautiful smile. Oh, please don't look at me that way. Even though my poor spiders did nothing wrong, the old codger never liked them. continued to kick them. In any case, are we in agreement? She extended her hand.

Kevin squinted into the distance and tapped his pen against his clipboard. " Resolve a long-standing crime? Hmm. That probably deserves more credit. He ran her hand through his own. Deal!”