Tap...Tap...Tap. . . This was the only sound in the small, dark room. Tap...Tap...Tap. . . That's all I could hear. It was the sound of slippered feet climbing the ligneous stairs. Steadily the sounds got louder. Eventually, she'd sense me. They all could do that.
Every time I was put in this situation it didn't end well. Just last week I ended up falling down some concrete basement stairs, landing in a huge pile of crimson apples. I'd hit my head on the wall and had gone out cold. Now, I had locked myself in a three-by-two closet on the third floor of a motel outside of Pricton.
Pricton was the town where I, a small-time ghost hunter, lived. It was small but was renowned for the number of ghosts haunting it. Almost seventeen GR's, or Ghost-Reports, are turned in every day.
This was one of those rare occasions where I was being paid more than fifty dollars to rid a motel of a ghost and I didn't plan on messing it …show more content…
I work with my seemingly mundane partner George and my "boss" Hayner. We make a pretty good team. Hayner is steadfast in every case we encounter and George is actually very covert. I admire them both, though.
Most people describe me as audacious. I mean, sure; I've broken a few rules, but that's all part of this ridiculously arduous job! My name is Zehira, by the way. I have black hair and almost the same color eyes. I can run a mile in four minutes exactly and I can jump over almost every fence in my way.
I wear a black faux leather jacket over a short-sleeved white dress shirt and a black skirt. My preferred choice of shoes are black combat boots. Ghost hunting is my profession, but you probably already know that.
Over the three years I've spent working with Hayner and George I've encountered many ghosts, weird people, and history that didn't make any sense but I think it all started with a ghost named Wayne
Every time I was put in this situation it didn't end well. Just last week I ended up falling down some concrete basement stairs, landing in a huge pile of crimson apples. I'd hit my head on the wall and had gone out cold. Now, I had locked myself in a three-by-two closet on the third floor of a motel outside of Pricton.
Pricton was the town where I, a small-time ghost hunter, lived. It was small but was renowned for the number of ghosts haunting it. Almost seventeen GR's, or Ghost-Reports, are turned in every day.
This was one of those rare occasions where I was being paid more than fifty dollars to rid a motel of a ghost and I didn't plan on messing it …show more content…
I work with my seemingly mundane partner George and my "boss" Hayner. We make a pretty good team. Hayner is steadfast in every case we encounter and George is actually very covert. I admire them both, though.
Most people describe me as audacious. I mean, sure; I've broken a few rules, but that's all part of this ridiculously arduous job! My name is Zehira, by the way. I have black hair and almost the same color eyes. I can run a mile in four minutes exactly and I can jump over almost every fence in my way.
I wear a black faux leather jacket over a short-sleeved white dress shirt and a black skirt. My preferred choice of shoes are black combat boots. Ghost hunting is my profession, but you probably already know that.
Over the three years I've spent working with Hayner and George I've encountered many ghosts, weird people, and history that didn't make any sense but I think it all started with a ghost named Wayne