Full Disclosure

The couple made an offer on the quaint tudor relic. Christa reluctantly told her boss she would handle the inspection.

Mrs. Evans was the picture of wealthy bohemain chic. A cashmere cardigan slouched across her delicate shoulders. Leggings hugged yoga-toned legs, UGG boots skimmed her calves. Mr. Evans wore skinny jeans and shiny wingtips. A tweed vest over his white button down with the sleeves rolled up screamed retro, as did that ridiculous beard.

"We're not in the 1800's, fool." Christa thought. Instantly guilt washed over her.

The pair gushed over the house's antique trimmings. "I heard the basement was used to hide escaped slaves!" chirped Mrs. Evans.

Christa wanted to tell them the truth. Newspapers of the day reported no one had suspected the wealthy owners were preying upon souls longing for freedom, only to make them suffer in the hell of that basement.

"Yes, that's right! This house is very well known for it's place in history... in fact it was a young couple who smuggled the slaves into the house from the plantations."

"I heard something about it being haunted? The owners killing the slaves in the basement?" Mr. Evans' face was innocent query.

"Oh yeah, it's ridiculous. Every small town needs a good haunting." The Evanses laughed.

"I can't believe you said that" She hissed to herself. "You're totally going to hell."

Paperwork was signed and the Evans couple thanked her. Christa mused at how the basement gave no indication of the horrors it had witnessed. In a way, she wished it had.

Roughly 3 years later she saw the article in the paper. The young couple who purchased the mansion were found in the basement, apparently a murder/suicide. "I'm retiring. Today." Said Christa to her morning coffee.