A Slight Haunting Problem

A few months ago, our apartment developed a slight haunting problem. 

We determined the problem was a haunting due to the fact that deep scratches kept appearing on the living room’s fake wood floor, and all the humans in the apartment swore it wasn’t them. Clearly invisible forces were at play. 

We were content to cohabit with our unseen guest(s) until two days ago, when we learned the Apartment Management was commencing its semi-yearly inspections. 

Within the pantheon of external forces that act upon inhabitants of this apartment, the Apartment Management is seen as one of the more powerful malignant entities. Their regular sweeps of the premises are met with slightly more preparation than if we were informed the Lord of Darkness would appear. The Lord of Darkness only carries a pitchfork; the Apartment Management comes armed with clipboards, and has (so far) shown no susceptibility to crucifixes, counter-curses, rings of salt, or anything else we may have picked up from watching Supernaturals. 

In addition to being evil – which we could probably overlook – they are also illogical. They do not accept excuses such as “a slight haunting” for mysterious apartment maladies such as scratches in the fake wood floor. The Apartment Management prefers to assign blame to people with bank accounts, so it can charge them. 

Thus, today I realized a childhood ambition. I spent the morning coloring directly on the floor. 

Conveniently, there are little “floor repair kits” that come with an assortment of wood-toned markers (oak through walnut) and several shades of wax. (Enough other people must experience this same form of haunting activity for the market to respond.) You rub the wax into the scratches and use the markers to blend the now-even floor into its surroundings. 

Believe me when I assure you – it’s hours of entertainment. Or occupation. I was occupied for several hours, and entertained for about five minutes. But I was pleased with my handiwork. Instead of “deeply scratched fake wood,” our living room floor is now a pattern best described as “camouflage coverup.” It gives a charmingly casual vibe to the room. A few strategically-tossed rugs complete the look. 

Of course, it remains to be seen what our unseen guest(s) think of the new arrangement. Will they feel unwelcome? Will they resort to Poltergeist-style activities to convey this unhappiness? It is possible they have already carried out such activities in our kitchen, without us noticing – will they move this activity to other, less naturally chaotic, areas of the apartment? 

We wait, in the certainty that our actions affect more than that which we can see. We seek answers, in the hopes that we may be able to coexist peacefully and tidily with that beyond our understanding. We continue to watch Supernaturals for home decor tips, because you never know. 

And we move heavy furniture in front of the front door, in terror of the time when the Apartment Management will move in our midst. 

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Author’s Note: By some strange coincidence, the scratches regularly manifest near my wheeled computer chair. Could there be a connection? The chair was found on the side of the road – perhaps a previous owner could have forged enough of a metaphysical imprint that the chair is now, somehow, channeling their psychological state. But why now? Why that chair, among our collection of trash-find chairs? We like to ponder these questions late at night, by candlelight¹ over a glass or two. Then we look over at the glass we left out for our invisible guest(s) and discover it has been drained. Truly “there are more things in heaven and earth…”

¹ The Apartment Management also disapproves of candles. But how else are we supposed to discuss our slight haunting problem? You just can’t do it under regular electric light, especially the way all our lightbulbs flicker constantly.

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