The house came cheap; I wasn’t surprised. It was getting on in years, not run down yet but probably requiring a little more attention than it did in its youth. And then, of course, there were the rumors.

Haunted, said some of the locals.

No such thing, argued others, but even they admitted that there had been a mysterious disappearance a couple decades ago, and the new owners hadn’t been able to keep a renter there for more than half a year since. The most recent tenants lasted barely a month before hightailing it out without a backwards glance.

“What form does this ‘haunting’ take?” I asked my cashier as I picked up some groceries.

“I’ve never seen it,” he admitted, “but I’ve heard it’s mostly things like flickering lights, things turning themselves on or off, that sort of stuff.”

“Faulty wiring,” said an older man standing behind me in the line, “mark my words. It was built long enough ago to start with, and maybe whoever did the installation did a rotten job.”

“You couldn’t pay me to live there,” the cashier insisted.

--

The lights did flicker, mostly with the faint spastic buzz of old electrical lines. I learned to ignore it, for the most part. Once I was brushing my teeth and the bathroom was plunged into sudden darkness, jolting my heart into my throat and making me swallow half the toothpaste.

When I replaced the bulb, I found that the old one didn’t rattle, and the new still didn’t work. Then I flipped the switch to ‘off’ on a whim, and the light came back.

I’d never heard of a circuit doing that before. But then, I wasn’t an electrician, and ghosts didn’t exist, of course.

--

The house had come furnished. Nothing fancy; most of it was worn and well-used, flowered curtains and corduroy couch and an older television in the living room. Mostly I preferred my laptop for mindless entertainment, but the house wasn’t wired for the internet, and the closest neighbor’s spotty open connection didn’t do me much good. In the end, it was boredom and curiosity that had me powering the TV up and browsing through what was available as part of the utilities package.

Not much, it turned out, but to my pleasant surprise the TV performed far better than any other appliance, switch, or outlet in the house, never fuzzing or cutting out. It was, despite its relative age, impeccable, with sound and picture quality as crisp and real as if I was simply looking through a window into the images beyond - easily as good as most modern flatscreens I’d seen.

It nearly made up for owning a toaster which always popped too early or else far, far too late and light switches that changed off to on every other day.

--

“Tell me about the person who disappeared.”

“Not much to tell. Grace Adams, lived there with her parents. One night they went to bed, and the next day she was gone. Nothing of hers missing but the clothes on her back, all the windows shut and the doors still locked on the inside, according to them. Plenty of rumors of course, but nothing ever got proven.”

“So then they sold the house…”

“Yep. Couldn’t stand living there anymore, apparently. Mrs. Adams was having some kind of mental breakdown over it. Most of the furniture there used to be theirs; new owners just tried to turn it around into a short-lease rental place for students or vacationers. Probably regret buying it every time someone skips out on their lease because they got spooked.”

“What kind of spooks? Anything aside from the faulty wiring?”

He leaned forward and whispered with relish:

“Some say they hear the girl on the phone lines.”

--

There was a landline in the house, though it was disconnected; I had my cell, and that was enough. After hearing the old man’s story, I made sure the line was unplugged as well. I didn’t believe in ghosts, but since it wasn’t necessary anyhow it didn’t need to drain any power. Bad enough that various lights got tripped and ran when I didn’t want them to.

I watched the local news that night, which was mostly weather reports and a piece on the upcoming farmer’s market season. Once again, the quality was excellent. It was almost as if they were in the room itself. One girl in the background of a shot looked right at the camera. It felt as though our gazes met. I glanced away, and when I looked back she had left the frame.

Lucky shot, I thought. I turned the TV off and went to bed, though it took me a long time to fall asleep. Her eyes had been grey.

--

The landline was ringing. I answered. No one was on the other end.

It was still unplugged.

--

Another night, another local news hour, another glimpse of the grey-eyed girl in the background of a shot. She must’ve been someone who lived in town, someone very good at finding the camera and looking into its lens at just the right angle. This time she smiled and beckoned before vanishing into the crowd.

I almost felt as though I could reach out and touch them, looking at the screen. I caught myself with my fingers an inch from the glass.

I lay in bed until the morning birds began to sing.

--

The phone rang again. I ignored it. My cell rang, plugged in to charge, and I answered.

“Will you come?” asked a girl’s voice. I didn’t recognize her. I hung up. The lights flicked on and off, and the microwave hummed in the kitchen.

--

I turned on the TV and she stood right in front of the camera, smiling at me. She reached forward. The depth was amazing; she almost seemed to be reaching out of the device itself.

Unthinking, I reached back.

Her touch was like static, and the house was gone.