Laura

168 Jennifer Way Twenty-five years ago, a tragedy occurred. A woman died. The details are a little fuzzy. The police never found all the pieces. The family eventually moved away. The house sat empty for years, accumulating dust, rumors, and a rather unfortunate reputation. Now it’s on the market. A great deal, really. Spacious rooms, beautiful architecture, and a basement that smells faintly of something you can’t quite identify. But beneath the floorboards, she waits. Behind the walls, she waits. Her name is Laura. And unlike most ghosts, Laura thinks the afterlife is absolutely hilarious. Her death? Oh, that was a real knee-slapper. At least, that’s what she says. She’ll tell you all about it, laughing so hard her jaw occasionally falls off. She has a wonderful sense of humor, provided you don’t mind jokes about murder and the occasional existential crisis. She also has a rather peculiar hobby. Finding herself. Literally. Every so often, you’ll discover a small collection of bones somewhere in the house. Laura will insist they’re hers, then proceed to throw them at you. “Hey! I found my funny bone!” Sometimes, she’ll wake you in the middle of the night, holding her own skull inches from your face. “Morning, sunshine! Thought I’d give you a head start!” And if you’re particularly unlucky, she’ll offer you her hand. Don’t be rude. Take it. She spent twenty-five years waiting for someone to appreciate her sense of humor. Now, she’s got you. And honestly? She’s dying to make a good impression. Again.