Banishing the Roommate

There is a poltergeist haunting my house, but unfortunately, given the current state of the housing market and rental prices, I can’t really afford to move. So she’s more like a roommate at this point. A roommate who destroys my property and doesn’t pay rent. I try to make it work.

I don’t even know her name. I did decide the poltergeist is feminine, though. It’s just a feeling I have, probably to make myself feel more comfortable.

After finishing a graveyard shift, I came home exhausted and ready for bed. When I opened the door, I called out, “Hello! I’m home!”—half joking, half acknowledging the poltergeist. There was no response. I spotted a letter in the entryway. Recognizing the sender, I picked it up with a tissue and threw it away.

Trying to forget the letter, I went to the bathroom for a hot shower. Afterward, I lingered in front of the mirror to check for messages from the poltergeist. As expected, letters began forming in the condensation.

“You will die,” it spelled out.

The messages from the poltergeist were rarely death threats. It made me wonder if the poltergeist had a rough evening as well.

“Everyone will die. That's hardly a threat,” I scoffed, wiping away the words despite the chill running down my spine. “Try to be more specific.” When the mirror fogged again with the same message, I turned away and ignored it.

I decided to try something new. “Do you have a name? Something I can call you besides 'you' or 'poltergeist'?” I asked the mirror. Nothing appeared. “If we’re going to be living together, we could at least be civil.” Still nothing.

This wasn’t my first attempt to reach out. I’d tried leaving a notepad and pen, which either stayed blank or were hurled across the room. The chalkboard didn’t survive long before breaking. Each attempt ended the same way, leaving me no closer to communication.

“Last chance, or I’m making up a name for you,” I said. After waiting a few moments, I declared, “Fine, Ruperta it is,” hoping the poltergeist would hate it.

Once in my bedroom, I shut the curtains tightly to block out the rising sun, then crawled into bed. My hopes for rest faded when the curtains tore open, flooding the room with sunrise. I turned my face away and buried it under my pillow.

Just as I thought I was getting comfortable and drifting off again, my bed started to shake. I sighed loudly but tried to ignore it. I imagined it was trying to rock me to sleep, but to no avail.

“You’re not making this easy tonight, Ruperta,” I shouted, tossing the pillow and covers aside. “It’s been a long night, and I can’t afford to stay at a hotel any time you have a mood swing!”

The bed shook more violently.

“Fine! Fine, I’m going to a hotel. Happy? You’d better not follow me.”

I packed a few necessities and tried to leave out the front door, but found it wouldn’t budge.

“Okay,” I muttered, starting to sweat. Ruperta had never stopped me from leaving before. She’d never actually hurt me, even with her vague threats.

I tried the kitchen door—no luck. Every window I tried rattled uselessly, as though the whole house had decided to glue itself shut. My hands were shaking.

At least I didn’t feel tired anymore; the sudden adrenaline helped with that.

That was the moment I realized: my roommate had to go.

I locked myself in the bathroom, hoping that was one place Ruperta would not want to follow. Feeling a bit foolish, I searched “Ghost removal near me” and was surprised to find several options. I looked at one with the highest rating and felt even more ridiculous. She had several other job titles, including “Paranormal Consultant.” I rolled my eyes, but reminded myself that if poltergeists are real, surely paranormal experts must be too. I set my skepticism aside long enough to send an email outlining my predicament.

Hello, Melody.

I found your info online and was hoping you could help me. My name is Ellie, and I have been experiencing a strange spirit entity at my house, where I have lived for the past 2 years. I think the word is “poltergeist.” It likes to throw things around my house, slam doors, and write messages on my mirror. It seems to have been growing increasingly agitated recently, but I don’t have the means to move. I was wondering if you have experience with entities like this, and if you can help me? The issue is urgent as I’m currently unable to leave my home, as it seems to be blocking me in. Can you help me today by any chance?

Thanks,

Ellie Wallace

I went back to bed and waited for a response. The bed started shaking and moving around the room again. I didn’t say anything and closed my eyes, pretending to try to sleep.

A ding sounded on my phone. I eagerly checked it and was relieved to see it was a reply to my email.

Dear Ellie,

I’m sorry to hear about the poltergeist and the trouble it is causing you. I do, in fact, have experience with them. If you send me your address, I can give you an estimate based on the distance. Assuming you are within my service area.

Best,

Melody

I quickly replied with my address. Melody immediately sent back an estimate that made my jaw drop. Still, I agreed and signed it electronically. She then messaged that she'd arrive within 1 to 3 hours. My eyes widened. “One to three hours?” I asked aloud.

While waiting, I avoided watching TV, worried that Ruperta might decide to break it. I tried to read a book, but she tore it out of my hands. I chose another, and then another, until she finally stopped ripping them out of my hands. I ended up with a romance novel my mother had given me—one I hadn’t read, and never planned to.

An hour or two later, I was so absorbed in my novel that I had almost forgotten I was waiting on a visitor. I jumped when there was a knock at my door.

I called, “Melody?” through the door.

“Yes!” she responded.

“I’m not sure the door will open,” I warned her, but to my embarrassment, it opened easily. A petite woman with a brown ponytail stood there in jeans, boots, a leather jacket, and carrying a large backpack. She looked around my age, or a bit older—not what I had pictured, but probably a good thing.

“Do you want to come in? Or should we talk outside?” I asked her.

“I’d like to come in, if that’s ok?”

I nodded in reply and moved to allow her in.

I watched nervously as she looked around my living room. I hoped the poltergeist would do something, so Melody would believe me. But I also worried that if it did, Melody would be shocked, which would be a sure sign that I was being scammed.

“How long have you been noticing the poltergeist?” she asked me.

“Technically, there were warning signs before I moved in, but I just didn’t really believe in this sort of thing. I thought I saw things move on their own while viewing the house, but the realtor was always there, probably putting things back, hoping I didn’t notice. I thought I was imagining it at the time. The low price was probably a red flag, too. I couldn’t believe the deal I was getting. I never thought I’d be able to own a house.” My chest tightened. In retrospect, I should have known it was too good to be true.

She nodded, still inspecting my living room.

Melody moved on to the rest of the house. I started to worry the poltergeist wouldn’t show itself at all, but when she tried to enter my bedroom, the door slammed shut in her face. She didn’t seem surprised, and I let out a long breath.

Melody tried to open the door, but the handle wouldn’t move. “Interesting,” she mumbled, before giving up and moving on to the other rooms.

I followed her through each room, then back to the living room, where she retrieved her backpack. “Can we sit somewhere?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said hesitantly, pointing to the kitchen table.

When we tried to sit at the table, however, the chair beneath Melody suddenly moved as she was about to sit on it, and she fell on the floor.

“Sorry!” I cried out, as if it were my fault, and rushed to help her.

“It’s fine,” she brushed herself off, put the chair back, and sat down. She didn’t seem angry or upset.

She pulled more things out of her bag and put them on the table. I bit my lip when she pulled out a crystal ball, doing my best to smother my disbelief.

Poltergeists are real, I reminded myself, over and over.

Many of her belongings, including the crystal ball, looked fragile. I kept my lips pressed together and didn’t say anything. When she lit some sort of incense and placed it on either side of the ball, I drummed my fingers and fidgeted in my seat. I closed my eyes to stop myself from rolling them when she began chanting and swinging a crystal on a chain.

“My readings indicate that the spirit is not malevolent,” Melody said finally, after she had apparently finished her testing, “It appears benign.”

“Benign?” I asked, bristling, “What about all the damage to property?”

“Benign as in I don’t think it’s here to harm you,” she replied calmly.

“It pulled the chair out from under you!”

She chuckled, “Spirits don’t like me. They think I’m here to get rid of them.”

“Well, aren’t you?” I crossed my arms over my chest, thinking maybe I was being scammed after all.

“That depends. If it’s trying to help you, are you sure you want to get rid of it?”

“Help me? How, by writing threats on my mirror?”

“What kinds of threats?”

“Well, just today, it wrote ‘You will die’.” Melody seemed to consider this, and I continued, “One time, it wrote ‘You will bleed’. It once threw a lamp at my head. Another time, it wrote ‘That dress is hideous’, which obviously isn’t a threat, but I thought that was rude.” I paused, trying to remember more.

“Maybe the messages are warnings, and criticisms, I suppose, instead of threats. It’s not uncommon for supernaturals to become poltergeists after death. It could be your poltergeist was a clairvoyant witch in life.”

My gut reaction was to scoff and frown in disbelief, thinking she had to be joking. Now she was saying witches were real? And what did she mean by supernaturals?

“What other messages has it written recently?” she asked.

“Lately, it has been writing ‘look out the window’ pretty frequently, but there’s never anything there. ‘Don’t ignore me. ’ Something about a blue car. Things like that.”

“And you’re sure those messages meant nothing? You couldn’t be missing something?”

“No, they’re random nonsense as far as I can tell.”

“How about ‘You will die’, could that be more of a warning than a threat? Is there anyone who might want to hurt you? Any new symptoms you might have been experiencing recently?”

I shook my head.

“Anyone that’s been bothering you at all?”

I shook my head, then paused, “Well, there is the stalker.”

Melody’s eyebrows shot up. “Come again?” she asked.

“There is a stalker who bothers me sometimes. He’s harmless, though.” I said, waving it off.

“Harmless?”

“Yeah, the police won’t do anything because he hasn’t threatened me. I already blocked him on all my social media accounts. He just sends weird letters and presents sometimes. I throw them out and try to ignore him.”

“Interesting,” she said flatly. She stood and went to the nearest window, opening the curtains only a fraction to peer out front. “Any idea what your stalker’s car looks like?” she asked.

“No. I’ve only ever noticed him following me on foot.”

“Recognize that car?” she asked me, pointing.

I followed her gaze to a dark blue sedan parked in front of my house. I shook my head. There were always a lot of cars parked along the street, so I never paid much attention to whose cars were whose.

“Well, that car has a direct line of sight to your bedroom window. The poltergeist warned you about a blue car, and it has been trying to keep you out of your bedroom today. Don’t you find any of that suspicious?”

“That seems like a stretch,” I frowned, skeptical.

“Okay,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “you wait here, I’ll just go check.”

I shrugged and tried to hide my frustration, hoping I wasn’t going to be billed for the time. I couldn’t see how an empty car was related to getting rid of the poltergeist.

I watched through the window as Melody left my house and approached the car. She stopped by the driver’s side window, looked inside, narrowed her eyes, then stepped back and put her hands on her hips. She knocked on the window and waited, then knocked again.

I gasped as a man sat up in the car, and I recognized him as the stalker.

Melody barked something at him, and he cranked the window down. She slammed her fist into his face, and I covered my gaping mouth. Melody reached through the window, unlocked the car door, then hauled him out and dropped him on the ground.

She’s remarkably strong for her size, I thought, impressed. Melody shouted in his face while he cowered on the ground. Then she stood up, straightened her jacket, and stormed back toward my house, as the stalker tore off down the street.

“That one was on the house,” she said to me as she entered. She inhaled deeply and flexed her hand.

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly, “Do you mind if I keep your number handy? I’d pay, of course.”

“Sure,” she said, handing me a business card. “Keep that on your fridge. I also recommend installing security cameras and recording evidence if he returns.” She placed her hands on my shoulders, and I froze. “And be more aware of your surroundings.” She emphasized each word carefully.

I flushed and nodded, then said, “Thank you, I will,” and gave her a thumbs-up.

“So, the poltergeist tried to warn you. Now that you know this, do you still want her gone?”

“No. I guess I had misjudged her,” I shrugged and felt my cheeks grow warmer, “Is there any way for you to find out her name?”

“Yes. Marta is her name.”

“She told you? Why wouldn’t she tell me her name?” I asked, offended.

“She didn’t tell me her name. I looked up previous residents and found her in some records. Her story fit.”

“I see,” I relaxed, feeling silly, “She can stay if she wants, but could you ask her not to break things at least?”

“You could try asking her, nicely.”

“Oh, right,” I flushed deeper, “One last thing. Do you think it would be possible for her to be more specific in her warnings?”

Melody folded her arms. “She’s a poltergeist, not a living person. She isn’t able to reason or communicate as we do. I recommend you learn to interpret her signs.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I mumbled, not sure I would ever be good at communicating with her.

Melody packed her things and took out her phone. “I’m only charging you for a reading on the poltergeist,” she said as she typed. “You can call or text me if you need any help with the paranormal. Or stalkers,” she continued as I was paying. “Now that you are aware of supernaturals, you might start to notice them more.”

I looked up at her, feeling the blood rush from my face, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Now that you realize these kinds of things exist, you’ll probably start to notice them more.”

“What kinds of things?”

"Like I've mentioned before: witches, poltergeists, and other things," she said, ticking them off on her fingers. She trailed off at the end.

She turned and left before I could ask, “What other things?” I stared after her a moment, then glanced up and down the street. Everything still looked ordinary to me.

Alone in my house again with only my invisible roommate, I was ready to finally get some sleep.

Before heading to bed, I turned on the TV and picked the first mushy, romantic movie I could find, hoping Marta wouldn’t destroy my TV if she didn’t like it. Nothing happened, so I took that as a good sign. After getting several hours of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep, I returned to my living room to find a different romance movie playing. I tried to turn the TV off, but it turned back on.

“Okay, you like romance. Noted.” I smiled. “I can learn to live with that, Marta.”