This morning, on the way to my special mailing box in the lobby, I came across our building manager taking down a portrait of Spencer Cullen from the Wall of Residents. Spencer had just moved in to the building, and I had gone to his housewarming party last autumn. He is a stylish, tow-headed young man who has quite the modeling career ahead of him. Needless to say, seeing his beautiful face coming off of the Wall was a great shock. I said “Why are you taking down Spencer’s photo, cowpoke?” Now, I call the building manager “cowpoke” because I had forgotten his name at the time (It’s something like Anish or Tortuga), and it’s fun way to address someone in any circumstance. Cowpoke responded that Spencer was moving out at the end of the week. Not if Courtney has anything to say about it!

I rushed up to Spencer’s humble (but not too humble) abode. As he opened the door, I could see boxes upon boxes full of what I could only assume was Spencer’s personal belongings. Why was he leaving after only a few months in his new apartment? Spencer shut the door behind me and asked if I could keep a secret. I found this very funny because my nickname in college was The Vault for my uncanny ability to keep secrets. Spencer was relieved and told me the following tale. I warn you, this can get a bit spooky in some parts.

Spencer’s tale went as follows:

One night, in late March, I (when I say I, imagine it’s Spencer typing it) was crawling into bed when a horrible noise came from the walk-in closet. It sounded as if all of the boxes and clothes were being thrown to the floor over and over while a woman wailed and wailed in a language unknown to me (the “me” being Spencer still). I (meaning Spencer) threw open the doors to the closet, and the noise had stopped as mysteriously as it had started. Naturally, I (still Spencer) was very scared. The next few days, paintings started to fall off the walls, the television would turn itself on and off at random, and all the clocks stopped at 9:13 PM. Even the digital ones! I (Spencer) was being haunted. By a ghost!

At that point, I (Courtney again!) sat young Spencer down on his white couch from Campaniello Home Design, poured him a glass of 1997 Ressorts Sale pinot, and said “No way, cowpoke!”

I had my assistant arrange a personal consultation with Anders LaTeira, author of the books @ fleyrm-recommended Music of the Aestral Planics. In his book, Anders delves into the world of the astral plane and explains how we get things like ghosts, poltergeists, and blurry photographs. Anders was—and is—incredibly professional. He walked each room of the apartment while consulting with his personal spirit guide Monroe. Monroe is a lot like my personal assistant Elias, but Elias isn’t a dead tobacco farmhand from 1609. Elias went to Fordham for geometry or something.

After communing with Monroe, Anders declared that an evil presence was indeed living inside the apartment! My hair stood straight on end. Spencer gasped. Anders calmed us, saying in his lilting baroque timbre, “This shouldn’t be a problem.” He smiled as he opened his briefcase, revealing a seance kit! (The Anders LaTeira Seance Kit to be sold in the shop @ fleyrm store soon! Just in time for All Hallowed’s Evening).

Anders drew the curtains, lit his candles, and burned some exquisite sage incense. He sat at the table with Spencer, Elias, and I, then instructed us to join hands. Anders eyes rolled back in his head as he communicated with the spirits of the apartment. What came next will haunt my nightmares for months to come, until I finish dream therapy. The lovely lilting baroque timbre morphed into a tremendous demon growl. The spirit was inside Anders! He was shouting at us to leave his apartment forever! Anders was thrashing, trying to fight the spirit. Spencer was shocked beyond words. Elias stood stiff as a board, unable to speak or even blink I would imagine! Anders kept thrashing, the others were useless. That’s when I decided to kick the spirit out myself.

I stood up, grabbed my glass of Riesling, gave it a blessing of holiness and beauty, and threw it on Anders. I shouted for the ghost to leave and never come back. As if by a miracle, the second the blessed sweet wine hit Anders’ crinkled face, he stopped writhing. Spencer stopped screaming. Elias regained movement, and maybe was filled with a joyous spirit of his own, laughing to the point of tears.

Anders spoke with Monroe in spirit language, and confirmed that I did indeed send the bad spirit off to the Astral Plane. However, I would still owe Anders for the consultation, and the dry cleaning costs on his purple crushed velvet morning coat. A small price to pay to help a friend in need. Spencer, however, still moved out. He neglected to inform me he already signed a lease at a new place. At least the apartment will be a place for beautiful spirits instead of nasty noisy spirits. Trust me, it does feel beautiful to bust a ghost. No wonder they made a second Ghostbusters movie!