Georgina Claythorne stepped back to admire her handiwork. The sign read: Coming Soon: Murder Mystery and Costume Party, Claythorne Inn Bed and Breakfast. It swung in front of the gray shuttered Victorian mansion. Her father and uncle had done wonders to restore the family’s former homestead at the Jersey Shore. In spite of the newly painted facade with its pastel trimmed window shutters, white, wraparound veranda decorated with potted ferns and hanging flower baskets, it held a tragic aura, as if something hid beneath the wooden planks and tall windows.
Despite the rose garden and the back gazebo which offered a place for quiet where she could work on her art, Georgina felt
something wasn’t right with the abode. She swallowed a small lump in her throat at the memory of the house’s previous owner who’d claimed to hear odd noises and see flashes of light and mysterious shadows after waking in the
night. Old houses carry memories. What could this one hold? Georgina’s cell phone beeped, giving her a start, but she
smiled when she saw the name of the texter. “Jake!”
So, you’re helping your father with the bed and breakfast
this weekend, Georgina?
She texted back: Yes, will be here until school starts
No time for me?
Come on down. I could use the company. This old house freaks me out.
How so?
There’s something here. Two owners had accidents. One fell down the stairs. The other had a fire. More accidents happen in
the home. Four guests left. They said they saw something—lights, a lady in a white dress who stares, then vanishes, and weird noises.   Want to investigate?