If you own Hook House, it owns your soul.
On the rugged Washington coast stands an ancient house with a macabre history. Housekeeper, Mrs. Soule never ages, but fades in and out of shadows and appears in mirrors when she’s not there. The stairwells, the storeroom, a third floor bedroom, all reveal murder and suicide for those with The Gift…the ability to see ghosts. Entering the grand door of Hook House is easy…leaving it is deadly.
Barefoot, I tiptoed to my door. Light from a bright moon fell through the stairwell window, shoving the darkness into corners. I was startled by the sight of Great-Grandfather Hook and by the sight of wall sconces, the storage room door, and the newel post directly through him as he passed by. Fear chased shivers up my spine, but determined to discover where he came from or where he went, I followed. His head and shoulders looked solid, as if I could touch him, but from the waist down he was diaphanous. Below his knees there was only the sound of leather slippers on the hardwood floor. On the second level, he paused and gazed toward the landing below. His shoulders slumped as if in resignation. Then, in an instant he was gone and I was alone … until behind me the footsteps began again. He came toward me from the far end of the hall. I backed up and around the newel post with my heart hammering in my throat. Again, he halted on the top step and then again, he faded. I spotted his twisted body on the landing below and realized, decades ago he died on those stairs.