Twenty-Nine Ghosts

Some folks can't leave well enough alone. The seven of us were cohabiting in perfect harmony, but Sally had to call an exorcist.
 
Wyldwinde is a huge traditional mansion on an acreage in Sherwood Park – lots of room for everyone. Jim and Sally Augsburg bought it with the idea of turning it into a fancy bed and breakfast, but they never got enough cash together for the renos. So it was just them and their four children rattling around in a house with nine bedrooms, six bathrooms, a solarium big enough to house a herd of buffalo, a gigantic kitchen with an adjoining dining hall, a 16-seat home theatre, a rec room with a harpsichord and pool table, a formal parlour fit for royalty, and four additional rooms with no specific purpose. It was a perfect venue for a resident ghost.
 
I had taken up residence in my former bedroom, which no longer had furniture, but ghosts don't need furniture, really. It just slows us down as we waft ourselves from one location to another. I spent a lot of time in the garden, but rarely ventured anywhere else. The only one who could see me was Polly, the youngest. She soon learned that it was best not to talk about her invisible friend, "that lady in the pink nightgown." I tried not to let her see me too often, to avoid trauma. There’s nothing more destructive than telling a child that she doesn’t see what she’s seeing right in front of her. Once she’s stopped trusting her own perceptions, she will never stop second-guessing herself.
 
One day, Sally attended a workshop on paranormal phenomena and brought home Cerena, who prided herself on being a spiritualist. She examined every inch of the house, gushing nonsense about etherial manifestations, vibrational dissonance, peristaltic interchanges, and  intermittent turpitudinous imbalances. I kept my distance from her, but I could not help overhearing her shrill sing-songy voice enumerating Wyldwinde’s spiritual defects.
 
Cerena had no spiritual gifts whatsoever, but she was an expert salesperson. Her promotional efforts had turned her boyfriend's tiny storefront enterprise in downtown Edmonton into a major corporate showpiece patronized by well-heeled influencers. Oscar Lazarowitz moved to Montreal and re-branded himself as Occo Vitale, exorcist extraordinaire. 
 
Move over, Ghostbusters! There's a new kid on the block, and everybody who is anybody just can’t resist plunking down a few thousand dollars just to be able to brag about their visitations by Occo V, the more weird and wonderful, the better. And that idiot doesn’t even know the difference between a ghost and an evil spirit.
 
In due course, Occo and his henchmen showed up at Wyldwinde with a truckload of equipment. Fortunately, there was a ghostly convention in Vienna that week, so I missed the the whole performance. When I got home, Sally could talk of nothing but Occo's findings – no less than twenty-nine ghosts, twenty-six of whom had never existed, dead or alive. Jim had tired of the whole thing and moved into a motel, and Sally filled the void with endless tea parties for the curious. The press was always welcome, and Sally managed to get herself interviewed by three talk show hosts and a paranormal reporter. She never managed to hit the big time, but she did fuel public interest, and attracted visitors from thousands of miles away.
 
While Sally was obsessing about the alleged infestation of ghosts, Occo and Cerena were negotiating with Jim. It didn't take them long to persuade Jim to sell them Wyldewinde. He didn’t make much of a profit, but it was enough to dodge the bullet of bankruptcy. Sally objected bitterly, but she quickly relented when Jim took her on a tour of a new luxury condo development in the heart of the theatre district.
 
Occo and Cerena spent over a million dollars in renovations, and recouped their investment in less than four years. They marketed it as House of Twenty-Nine Ghosts, and made sure that every guest had a satisfying paranormal experience.
 
I don't live there anymore. I'm just a tad miffed that I didn't make it onto the list of the twenty-nine. Six decades of residency should count for something, but I was completely ignored. 
 
I'm hanging out with my niece Elise now. Elise is a modern-style ghost who likes to keep moving. We haunt the beaches of Northern Vancouver Island – Campbell River all the way up to Port Hardy. It's a nice break from my normal lifestyle, but I don't want to do it forever.
 
Some day, I'll find the perfect permanent home. When Polly joins the ghostly ranks, I'll ask her to be my roomie.