The Ghost

Apparently here is another story by the blogger ibikunle Abraham is Based on Comedy & Whimsical, Story

Arthur Pendelton had been dead since 1924, and he took great pride in his work. For nearly a century, he had successfully terrified every single tenant who dared to rent his Victorian manor. He had a routine: a low, mournful moan at 2:00 AM, a dramatic rattling of the pipes at 3:15 AM, and a classic, bone-chilling cold spot in the master bedroom right before dawn.Then, the Millers bought the house.The Millers were a young, intensely optimistic couple from California who viewed every historic flaw in the house as "vintage charm."On their first night, Arthur waited until the clock struck midnight. He manifested in the hallway, letting out a guttural, tragic wail that had once sent a rugged lumberjack running into the night screaming. He floated through the bedroom door, waiting for the screams.Chloe Miller blinked open her eyes, looked directly at Arthur’s glowing, translucent form, and nudged her husband. "Babe, look at the architectural character of this place. The drafts are so bad they’re actually creating luminous mist. We definitely need to check the insulation in the attic."Tom Miller groaned, pulling the duvet over his head. "I told you we should have gotten a home inspection, hon. Let’s look at it in the morning."Arthur stood at the foot of the bed, his jaw dropping. Luminous mist? Drafts? He was a terrifying specter of the damned, not a structural deficiency!The next night, Arthur decided to go all out. He entered the living room while they were watching television, focused all his spiritual energy, and lowered the room's temperature by thirty degrees in a matter of seconds. Frost began to form on the edges of the coffee table. He hovered over them, baring his ghostly fangs."Oh, wow," Chloe said, shivering slightly and reaching for a remote. "The HVAC system in these old Victorians is so inefficient. Tom, did the Amazon delivery arrive yet?""Yeah, just brought it in," Tom said, walking over to a box in the hallway. He pulled out a sleek, modern, white cylinder. "It's an electric space heater with a simulated flame effect. 1500 watts."Tom plugged the device into the wall. Instantly, a wave of intense, fan-forced heat blasted across the living room.Arthur screamed as the warm air hit his ectoplasmic form. The artificial heat completely disrupted his spiritual frequency. It was like trying to maintain a solid shape inside a giant hair dryer. His terrifying cold spot was neutralized in seconds, leaving him feeling warm, cozy, and utterly humiliated."Oh, that's much better," Chloe cooed, snuggling into the couch. "Look, the draft went away entirely!"Arthur retreated through the wall into the dark sanctuary of the pantry, sitting cross-legged on a shelf next to a jar of organic peanut butter. He looked at his translucent hands, utterly defeated. If he couldn't terrify them, and he couldn't even give them a mild chill, what was his purpose?He spent the rest of the week trying to rattle the kitchen cabinets, but Tom just greased the hinges with WD-40. He tried to hide their keys, but Chloe just congratulated Tom on finally finding a "designated spot" for them on the counter.Yesterday, Arthur officially gave up. He now spends his evenings sitting on top of the space heater, enjoying the warmth, and quietly watching reality TV over the Millers' shoulders. It wasn't the afterlife he planned, but at least the reception was good.