I’m so scared that the ghosts of my past will come back to torment this hollowed out body of mine, turning my mind into a haunted house of faded failures and fears that I can’t overcome.

I’m scared that the next time I open the doors and let someone in, those vile specters will frighten them and turn them away from seeing the old house in its entirety.

Would they come in? Would they take a seat? Would they listen to the story of every board used in the house’s construction? Would they take the time to learn the details of every feather used to stuff the throw pillows on the sofa?

I would hope that they’d marvel at the annexes I’d created. The way I continue to refurbish the inside whenever need be. How I’d repair the support beams whenever the house began to fall. Would they look at it all and see the work I put into it?

Or would the skeletons in the closet scare them away? Would they shriek at the sights of the spirits that roam the halls at night? Would the monsters chained in the basement let out a ghastly howl that would turn my visitor pale and be the final nail in the coffin of possibility?

I don’t know. I may never know.

But for now I will keep out any new visitors.

A large, iron fence has been put up around the house.

I will tell anyone that sees the old house stories of ghouls and dark rituals.

I will watch as they turn away and decide on better things to do.

But what happens when the warnings invite intrigue instead of disdain?

What happens when curiosity overpowers dread and dares a visitor to enter?

What happens when they do not run from the phantoms and instead embrace them, for they can see that the dead were once people?

What happens when they see that the skeletons in the closet were merely a trick of the light?

Shadows playing in the mind’s eye that are gone when the light touches them.

What happens when they discover that the monsters howling in the basement are merely the sound of the wind, echoing greatly throughout the large space, entering through small windows that someone forgot to shut?

What happens when that new visitor falls in love with the hauntings within my mind?

Will I be ready?

Or would I try chasing them out; telling them that it isn’t safe and that they should leave when they can?

What do I do when they cup my face with their hands and tell me that the only thing truly haunting is the way I paint the house out to be?

What do I do when they tell me that I need only realize that everything that haunts the vision of my mind is the past?

Will I be ready?

Maybe.

I think I will be.

Eventually.