'Twas Halloween Eve at ParaHouse

’Twas Halloween Eve, and all through ParaHouse,

Not a spirit was stirring—except one louse.

The cobwebs were hung by the banisters with care,

In hopes that fresh mortals soon would be there.

The portraits were crooked, the floorboards all groaned,

The chandelier swung, though no wind had moaned.

Grandfather clock struck a quarter to twelve;

Its hands spun backward, then rang like a crack of a helve.

Young Jasper had come with his flashlight and grin,

Dared by his cousins to spend the night in.

“Ghosts are just stories,” he bragged with a yawn,

But the door slammed behind him—then silence was drawn.

He tiptoed through hallways where shadows grew tall,

Past suits of old armor that clanked down the hall.

A piano played softly, though no one was seated;

The keys danced alone to a tune twice-repeated.

In the library gloom, books fluttered like bats,

Spelling “GET OUT” in a flutter of spats.

Jasper just laughed, “Nice trick with the strings!”

Till a skeleton butler served tea with fancy things.

“Earl Grey?” it rasped, bony fingers a-clatter.

Jasper declined; the cup tipped with a splatter.

Upstairs, a bride in a veil made for romantic bliss,

“Find my groom!” she then dissolved with a hiss.

The groom, it turned out, was a ghost in the attic—

A pirate with a peg-leg and a beard quite erratic.

He’d hidden her ring in a trunk full of loot,

Then forgot where he’d stashed it—poor seafaring brute.

Jasper, now brave (or too stubborn to flee),

Helped search through mothballs and maps of the sea.

Behind a false panel, the ring gleamed like ice;

The bride reappeared with a voice that sounded nice.

The pirate proposed on a creaking old knee;

She giggled “I do” through a translucent decree.

The house gave a shudder, then brightened with cheer—

Chandeliers blazed, and the gloom disappeared.

Portraits straightened, the piano played swing,

The skeleton butler did a soft-shoe thing.

Even the bride’s veil turned sparkly and new;

The ghosts formed a conga line right on cue.

Jasper joined in, twirling a spectral top hat,

Till dawn painted gold where the darkness had sat.

The front door swung open; his cousins gaped wide—

He strolled out at sunrise with ghosts at his side.

“See?” Jasper winked.

“Just a slight haunt malfunction.

All they needed was closure—and maybe some gumption.”

ParaHouse twinkled, no longer forlorn,

And every year after, on Halloween morn.

The ghosts throw a party with cider and cake,

Inviting the living (for old friendships’ sake).

So if you’re near ParaHouse when the pumpkins glow bright,

Knock once for the bride, twice for delight.

Happy Halloween, mortals—and mind the third step;

It likes to play pranks when the moon’s fully crept!