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I fell in love with the Sixteen Zero Three when I was eight.
I was fifty-eight before someone located the owners who had moved on 
Thirty-nine years had passed since anyone had inquired.
I had coveted the idea of owning this monster for half a century!

“That old Jackson place?” “Are you crazy?” “Who would live there?”
“It’ll be a money pit.” “You’ll lose all of your savings.”
What did they think I had been saving money for anyway?
“It has ghosts.” This from a man who had never been inside. 
Frankly, it made the idea more appealing.

The front door creaked with a loud eeeeeeeeeehhhhhhh 
The prissy realtor in her red half heels looked too clean to be there.
I wanted to push past her but socialized, I waited.
The place was dark, even with the lights on. All of the lights on.

The realtor did not tell me about the rumors or the killing there.
She hoped that I did not know, but I did. I had been in touch
With my ghost hunting side for a long time. Three ghosts said “hi”.
I kept it to myself and signed the paper.
 Sixteen Zero Three Huntington Court was mine at last and so were they!

“Not that one!” a fourth spirit said. The others were shushing him.
“I am not kidding, she is going to change everything!” He whined.
I turned and winked at him. Nearly causing him to fall off the staircase.
“It’s like you are already home,” one of the female ghosts said.

“Oh, honey,” I whispered to her telepathically, “If you only knew.”
I had lived in this house during the Civil War, and we had lost it.
I remembered that lifetime as well as my name.
“She’s TROUBLE!” the Rebel soldier hissed. I winked at him again.
We both knew I was bringing a whole new aspect to my new house.

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