How to Sell a Haunted House

by Grady Hendrix

“Mom and Dad are in a better place,” he said. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” he said, and carefully put his next sentence together. “They’re not suffering anymore.” “I just talked to them on Tuesday,” Louise said. “They weren’t suffering on Tuesday. You need to tell me what’s happening.” “I’m trying!” he snapped, and his words sounded mushy. “Jesus, I’m sorry I’m not doing it the right way. I’m sure you’d be perfect at this. Mom and Dad are dead.”

Louise held Poppy’s feverish, limp body for hours, wishing harder than she’d ever wished before that for just sixty seconds someone would hold her, but no one holds moms.

The cane, the hammer, the TV being on, the dolls in her dad’s chair . . . it all felt wrong. She looked at the dolls. Whatever had happened, they’d seen it all, but they weren’t about to tell.

Something had happened right before her mom and dad had left their house for the last time. Something bad.