Opening the door, Paul dumped the last of his boxes on the floor and threw himself on the bed. It had been a tiring day, what with moving house and all. Even though it wasn't exactly far from their last residency (two streets) they had had to transport everything in one day only.
Paul was excited about this new place, it was large and old, supposedly haunted (which is why it had gone so cheaply) and to him, simply reeked of mystery.
He only lay there for a few minutes, as those long corridors were practically begging him to explore them. The floorboards were of course, creaky, and the walls were also of course, covered with old photographs and paintings. Mainly photographs though, and mainly from the 60s, Paul thought with a grin.
He loved vintage things, and his entire wardrobe demonstrated as such. He also owned barely any fancy modern gadgets, especially not the dreaded smart phone everyone seemed to always be staring at. No, it was old rotary dials all the way for Paul.
It was right then that a door at the other end of the corridor slammed shut, causing Paul to whip round. Nothing. He felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine. Paul had always believed in ghosts, and was fascinated by them, despite not having seen one yet, but maybe today would be his lucky day?
However, nothing unusual occurred for the rest of the evening, although Paul could have sworn he heard floorboards creaking behind him every now and again.
