Taking a gig as a real estate photographer was one of the easiest decisions I’ve ever made. My job was to take vivid, appealing photographs of each of the real state company’s listings, then upload them to our website as quickly as possible. Traveling around new neighborhoods, exploring empty houses, and checking out interior design seemed like a great way to make a living.
On my first day, I received a list of houses that I was supposed to visit. The morning went smoothly as I traveled from house to house, snapping pictures of light-filled kitchens, cozy living rooms, and lush outdoor gardens. I was just starting to get into a routine when I realized that next house on my list was a familiar one.
I had heard rumors about the old McGregor house. Apparently, the house has been empty for years, occupied only by an extremely persistent ghost. Weird things are always happening around the McGregor house: dogs start barking, babies start crying, and there almost always seems to be a thunderstorm brewing overhead, even when the rest of the street is sunny.
Needless to say, I was not excited about this assignment, but I dutifully drove to the house anyway. When I pulled up, I realized I probably had nothing to fear. The sun was shining over the house, and the lawn was healthy and freshly mowed. In fact, the house looked kind of charming. I unlocked the door and headed inside, where I began snapping my usual photos.
As I walked down the hallway towards the bedrooms, I noticed how creaky the floorboards sounded. A little creepy, perhaps, but also appealing: original wood floors. Then, a strange whooshing sound emerged from one of the bedrooms. I peeked inside and saw that a window had been left open. “That’s strange,” I thought as I crossed the room to close the window. “Maybe I should text the office and let them know that someone has been in this house.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and began composing a text when suddenly I heard a frantic scratching noise coming from one of the closets. I panicked. “Oh no oh no oh no,” I yelped, leaping four feet into the air. My phone flew out of my hand and clattered to the ground.
The sight of my falling phone shook me out of my panicked state, and I bent down to pick it up. Bracing for the worst, I turned it over and inspected the screen. I couldn’t help but gasp at what I saw.
The phone was in pristine condition. Thanks to my Cloak 3 case, the impact of the sudden fall had no effect on the device whatsoever. As I sat on the floor gratefully examining my phone, a tiny squirrel raced out of the closet, scampered up the wall, and ran out through the window.
I breathed a sigh of relief. The house wasn’t haunted after all. Best of all, I had discovered that my Cloak 3 case can stand up to any ghost (or squirrel).
Designed by Ghostek in New York