Chapter 9: Extreme Paranormal Home Makeover: Curse Edition
562 Words
Chapter 9: “Extreme Paranormal Home Makeover: Curse Edition”
Jamie stood in the living room, arms crossed. “Okay, ground rules: No demonic contractors. No furniture that bleeds. And nothing that whispers my name at night.”
Ghostie, floating nearby with a toolbelt he didn’t know how to use, saluted.
> “Got it. Totally normal, semi-haunted renovation. Very HGTV, very chill.”
Brenda, dressed in a tiny construction helmet and holding a glue gun like a pistol, beeped approvingly.
“Also,” Jamie added, “nothing explodes unless it’s on purpose.”
> “Define ‘explode.’”
“NO.”
The camera crew from Dead Hungry had returned, this time wearing flannel and hard hats.
Ghostie dramatically announced:
> “Welcome to Extreme Paranormal Home Makeover! Today, we turn one tragically boring human apartment into a stylish supernatural sanctuary!”
Jamie glanced at the blueprints. “Why is there a hidden room labeled ‘Sacrificial Nook’?”
> “Reading corner! With options.”
The “team” included:
A banshee interior designer who screamed when the wallpaper clashed.
A sentient paint roller named Rollie who only liked painting in blood red.
A disgraced exorcist turned feng shui expert who insisted the haunted mirror stay because it “reflects your trauma in a sexy way.”
Jamie sat in a corner, sipping ghost-latte, muttering, “This is why normal people don’t redecorate with poltergeists.”
Stage One: Furniture
Ghostie unveiled a floating couch.
> “It levitates and judges your taste in music.”
The couch immediately dropped to the ground when Jamie played pop-punk.
“See? It hates me.”
> “It’s just emotionally complex.”
Stage Two: Lighting
Jamie flipped a switch.
The lights blinked, then a ghostly chandelier descended from the ceiling like it was in Phantom of the Opera.
A spotlight hit Jamie. A dramatic organ chord played from nowhere.
“…What is happening?”
> “The chandelier has feelings. You’ve activated its musical phase.”
Jamie threw a throw pillow at it.
Stage Three: The Ritual Paint Job
Rollie went wild on the walls, muttering incantations and painting glow-in-the-dark sigils.
“Is that Latin?” Jamie asked.
> “It says ‘Live, Laugh, Lich.’”
Jamie facepalmed. “You’re fired.”
> “He’s union,” Ghostie whispered.
By the end of the day, the apartment had transformed into:
A cozy, moonlit den with a ghost-operated record player.
A cursed bookshelf that alphabetizes itself but growls if you touch its horror section.
A “haunt tub” that gives you visions of your ancestors during bubble baths.
Brenda toasted a marshmallow over a spectral flame and beeped contentedly.
Jamie looked around. “I hate that I love this.”
> “See?” Ghostie said proudly. “I know your aesthetic: Slightly cursed but deeply cozy.”
Jamie sat on the levitating couch, which gently bobbed like a lazy ghost fish.
“Alright. You win. This is… kind of amazing.”
> “Next week,” Ghostie grinned, “we renovate the hallway.”
Jamie’s smile dropped. “Ghostie, what did you do to the hallway?”
A distant whisper floated in from behind the door:
“Return the library books…”
Jamie gulped. “We don’t even have a library.”
> “Not anymore.”
End of Chapter 9
- Writer
