“You know, there’s enough weird stuff going around on this house without you two spookin’ around.”
The spirits that live in the rafters of Collinwood have been more uppity than usual lately. The children of this haunted house, possessed by the ghosts of previous children, have been conducting secret chalk-and-candle rituals in the small hours, trying to bring even more ghosts into the house, and then those ghosts are going to want a turn. This is why everybody talks about immigration reform.
“We could be so happy if Daphne was here with us,” says one of the dreamers. “This house is so different.”
“It’s the same house we once knew,” says the other.
“Oh, no, it’s so strange, so ugly,” says the first. “Do you remember how it used to be, with the candles, and the sound of the spinnet?”
So that’s where I draw the line, really. Nobody asked these people to move in. If they’re not interested in participating in our century, then they can feel free to go back to whatever hell realm they crawled out of.
The sound of the spinnet. I mean, honestly.