The IESP (International Extra-Sensory Perception) bureau classifies hauntings on a scale from 1 to 500. A 247 is considered “Moderate-to-Severe Ambient Disturbance.” It’s the kind of case they give to agents who’ve screwed up but haven’t yet been fired.
Risa Murakami stood in the doorway of her bedroom. She was translucent around the edges, but her eyes were solid. Angry. And in her hands, she held a copy of the same photograph—except in her version, the smiling woman had her face scratched out.
And from the bedroom, a woman’s voice—warm, smiling, wrong—called out: 247 IESP 458 Risa Murakami Apart
I heard breathing behind me. Not a whisper. Not a wind. The wet, rhythmic inhale-exhale of someone standing too close.
“You’re not here to document me,” Risa said. Her voice came from everywhere and nowhere, like a radio tuned between stations. “You’re here because IESP sent you to clean up their mistake.” She was translucent around the edges, but her
My EMF reader didn’t spike. It flatlined. That was wrong. A 247 should rattle the dial like a maraca.
“The apart,” she whispered. “Apartment 458 isn’t haunted by me. I’m trapped here by her .” And from the bedroom, a woman’s voice—warm, smiling,
Subject: Risa Murakami Location: The Apart
Today was Wednesday.