Wishing for Solitude
I have followed your advice column for years, but never had cause to contact you until now.
My family has owned Wraith Manor for two centuries, and, in it, I have enjoyed a most quiet existence.
I love the cold, drafty rooms and ancient halls. I spend my happiest moments in the solitude of home. At night, the stars peek through the old casement windows and the soft breeze blows through the dark hallways, dripping with the musk of my mother’s roses.
I am free to roam my domain at will; yet, now and then, infestation appears, like the biblical locusts.
In the past, I have removed these plagues with little effort, but now, try as I might, I cannot get rid of them. My tried-and-true tactics—footsteps, moving objects, torpedoes, wails, moans and slamming doors—no longer work.
Worse even, the new vermin have taken my family portraits off the walls and installed pesky fireflies that light up with the flick of a switch.
I love fireflies as much as the next, but these little bugs, instead of blinking soothing green, light up in garish hues of white and yellow that glare and crackle.
Gone now is the moonlight wafting through the windows. Gone now is the sleepy silence of the hall, kitchen, ballroom and bedrooms. Instead, there is a constant chatter of voices by day, and a relentless buzzing by night.
I have done my best to spook these pests away, but to no avail. I even reached out to my cousin at Canterville Chase, but he could not offer much help.
What can I do?
Wishing for Solitude in Eternity