Rob, Sergeant and I have been living in this house for three hundred years now. Well, actually, Sergeant has only been here for fifty years or so, but Rob and I go way back. Rob is actually from the stone age, living here before the house even existed. Myself, I’ve been here since the middle ages. Executed on the block during a revolution, I was. Rob ate a poisonous flower, and Sergeant refuses to talk about how he passed on. We all theorise, of course, but we can’t know for sure. Even though we were there, watching as he fell to the ground, there was no obvious cause.

Oh, did I forget to mention that the three of us are all ghosts? There’s actually more than three of us, but I consider Rob and Sergeant to be my closest friends. Julius, who I am forcing to type this blog post out, is very offended that I don’t consider him to be my closest friend, but it’s true. He wants to stop writing, but I said that I would only spy on the conveyancing solicitors who are coming around to the house today if he did this for me. Apparently, somebody wants to turn this house into a hotel! That’s crazy. It’s basically haunted.

I get to go on a lot of espionage missions, as a ghost whose head has been separated from his body. For the most part, I just like being useful, because it means people are actually paying attention to me. When my head is resting on the floor, everyone seems to just pretend I don’t exist. Even as I call out for help, they all just go about their day, ignoring me.

So, if we need to find out about conveyancing around Clifton Hill, I’ll spy on the conveyancers from Clifton Hill. Well, I suppose they could be from somewhere else in Melbourne. Just because our mansion is in Clifton Hill, that doesn’t mean the conveyancers are from here. Either way, I’m going to learn all about the plans for selling this house. And then everyone will listen to me, as I explain it to them!

– Murphy