Somewhere in suburbia, night time, a semi detached modern house maybe 1970s era. I found myself in this place, carrying out tidying and housecleaning duties. I was alone, except for the sense that there was a ghost there. My consciousness streaming this experience at twenty four frames per second, the apparition of a spooky schoolgirl peering from doorway and window edges somewhere in two of those frames. Do you understand?

So naturally, I felt rattled and alone, but had to carry out these chores anyway. I made it to the kitchen, wiping surfaces and vacuuming the floors. I opened a door, to find an empty cupboard, like a small pantry minus shelves or content. The walls were cracked in a sinister fashion, but the most obvious thing to me, beyond these superficial observations, was that this little storage space was the source of the ghostly emanations, for although the space was empty, it contained an unseen entity of malignant intent, a sense of dire danger in the simple act of opening this door.