The wind howled like a wounded animal, the noise grating on your ears. You slammed the car door shut, wrapping your arms around yourself, before joining your assistant, Tom Buckley, on the other side.

The large house up on the hill definitely looked haunted. It was falling apart at the seams, pieces of siding and shingles scattered along the dead grass.

“No wonder why they think it’s haunted.” Tom mumbled, reaching into the car to grab the supplies.

The elderly woman who owned the house stood at the top of the hill, about as rattled as the whole building looked. Her arms moved frantically as she started to beckon the two of you up.

You sighed. This was going to be a long day. Judging by her telephone call, this woman believed in anything and everything supernatural.

As a matter of fact, there was a ring of salt- or sugar, you couldn’t tell- around the entire perimeter of the hill. True dedication. And a true waste of salt. Despite the fact that there were certainly no ghosts, you had to admit, you were impressed… with the sheer insanity of the old bat.

“Nice touch.” Tom said to you sarcastically, gesturing to the salt.