It starts with static.

You don’t remember turning the TV on. The screen flickers in the dark of your living room, white noise buzzing low and wrong.

Your heart drops into your stomach as the image shifts, grainy footage, a well, the slow creak of something crawling.

Nope, nope. you thought, scrambling for the remote.

Too late.

A pale hand grips the inside of the screen. The lady crawled out of it slowly—long black hair hanging over her face, white dress clinging damply to her skin.

She crawled towards you and her mouth opened, her intention to lunge at you and end your life then and there. But..

Your fight-or-flight response? Completely broken.

Without thinking, you reach out and gently pat her on the head.

Silence.

Her hair is surprisingly soft.

She freezes. “There, there,” you mumble, “Good… ghost?”

Then slowly, very slowly, she lowers her head to your lap. Liking getting petted.