#they’re still flat footing in district 12! goddamn!

[bride-ofquiet]

watching the ballad of songbirds and snakes like “they still got the carter fold in district 12? nice”

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, everybirdfellsilent!

Happy belated Birthday, @everybirdfellsilent​! Apologies once again for all the mix-ups and confusion with your gift! I hope you had a truly wonderful day back when it actually was your birthday, and that it was much more orderly than this! To bring the party feels back, @ally147writes​ has emerged from everlark retirement to write a birthday gift just for you!

AN: Let me tell you, @everybirdfellsilent​, I agonised over the ending. This was the neatest and tidiest I could make it without writing you a novel. I hope it makes you chuckle a little.

Also a good time to let the audience know that I cannot write horror, or ghost stories, but dang it, I can write borderline crack, and I wanted to write Buzzfeed Unsolved-inspired ghosthunter!everlark so damn much.

Unbeta’d, because that’s how I roll.

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The old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted.

 Not that that really means anything. Most of the houses they’ve visited over the years haven’t looked haunted. They’ve been completely normal — except for that one in District Ten that had some kind of summoning circle in the basement (Peeta will die hoping it was drawn with red paint, a super weird kid’s project, but he’s got a feeling he’ll be dying disappointed. And extremely terrified) — with completely normal gardens in completely normal streets.

 So, no. Like most, the old Undersee mansion doesn’t look haunted, but it definitely feels haunted.

Peeta pauses at the bottom of the winding path. At its end, atop a small hill, the innocuous house sits empty, Madge and her family out for the next few nights while he and Katniss investigate. It’s as normal looking as any of the other exorbitantly large mansions on the street, but the longer Peeta stares down the deceptively cheerful, sunshine-yellow door, a deep, intense foreboding settles in his gut and ferments there.

 He swallows. “Uh, Kat?”

 Katniss sighs and stops at the first step to the porch, and Peeta swears he can hear her eyes rolling. Hard. “What is it, Peeta?”

  “I just… I got a real bad feeling about this one.”

 “Peeta,” she starts, mounting the first step, “you’ve had real bad feelings about all of them so far. And you’ve been wrong every time.”

 “No,” he replies quickly, following behind in the relative safety of her shadow. “You’ve just chosen to deny whatever proof we do find.”

 “A battery running out in our flashlight does not mean ghosts were playing with it.”

 “It ran out at the exact moment I told the spirits to turn it off!”

 “I don’t know how else to tell you that was a coincidence. The flashlight had been on for a good two hours by that point.”

 “A little convenient, don’t you think? Come on, Katniss. Plus, it turned right back on again when we were done, so the battery can’t have been that damn flat.”

 “I can’t understand why you’re so eager for this all to be the work of ghosts when it scares you shitless every single time.”

 “What about the time the spirit box said your name?”

 “Peeta,” she says with a strained laugh. “It said, Can’t Miss. As in, the District 12 Mockingjays Can’t Miss. It was a snippet of a goddamn basketball ad. It’s on the radio all the time on game days.”

 “Yeah, and the spirit box allows ghosts to use radio waves to communicate. Of course it wasn’t going to find Katniss — who the hell’s advertising katniss? — so it picked the next best thing.”

 “I’ll just sit here and wait for them to use a snippet of a pita bread company ad to talk to you, then.”

 He glares at the back of her head. “I’m sure they would, if there was a pita factory nearby that advertised.”

 She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Peeta. Let’s go find you a ghost.” She lifts a camera to her eyes and kicks the heavy mahogany door open and flicks on the gently swinging chandelier light.

 “Ghosts, spirits, urban legends and other assorted demonic entities, how are we all this evening?”

 “Katniss,” he hisses as he closes the door. “Some respect, maybe?”

 “What part was disrespectful? I covered, well, maybe not the full the spectrum of possible occupants, but definitely most of them, and asked how they were. Honestly if they’re not going to reply, they’re the disrespectful ones, not me.”

 The light flickers out. Katniss snorts. Peeta lets out a squeak he’s not proud of.

 “She doesn’t mean it,” Peeta calls frantically. “For the love of God, she doesn’t mean it. I’m sure you’re all lovely and polite.”

 The light flickers weakly and comes back on. The chandelier fitting swings like a pendulum, casting stretching and receding shadows over the white-sheet covered lounges and a thick, dark coffee table.

 “What the hell do you call that, Katniss?”

 “Shoddy wiring?” She shrugs. “Peeta, this house is about a century old. Probably more, actually.”

 “Madge said it was renovated and rewired two years ago.”

 She shrugs again. “Rats? Raccoons, maybe? That would explain the supposedly unexplainable shuffling sounds Madge thinks she hears.”

 Now he rolls his eyes. “Why am I married to you, again?”

 “Because divorce is costly and time consuming,” she says, kissing his cheek. “Besides, my logic goes well with your fatalistic romanticism.”

 “None of that’s going to matter when this house goes all Poltergeist and swallows us.”

 “Then what a good thing it is that that’s never going to happen.” She plonks herself down on one of the lounges and sets a pair of small motion-sensing cameras pointing at each entrance. Peeta swallows and hitches a thumb towards the kitchen.

 “I’m… uh, gonna look around for a bit.”

 “All right,” Katniss says absently. “Scream if you need me.”

 “Will do.”

 That dread in his stomach recedes and grows with each room he enters. He doesn’t feel anything wrong with the kitchen, or the dining room, but as he ventures up the staircase to the bedrooms, he swears he can feel something weighty on his shoulders.

 A sound like a dry, rattling whisper like nails on paper echoes through the long hall leading to the attic entrance. Peeta gulps. “Hello?” He thumbs open the recording app on his phone and turns it on. “Is anyone there?”

 The whispering sound grows. It doesn’t sound like words, exactly. At least, not words that he knows. They race up and along his spine until it sounds like they’re shouting in his ear.

 Peeta squeaks, jumps about a foot in the air, and something skitters past, too fast to see. A wave of cold washes over him, settling in icicles on his bones, and for a moment he stands stock still, not even breathing…

 Another whisper, one that sounds very, unnervingly close to hello, and he sprints back down the stairs to the living room, triggering the motion sensors into a high-pitched beeping sound.

 Katniss bolts upright. “What the hell is going on?”

 “Kat, were you… God, were you sleeping?” he asks, aghast.

 “What? It’s boring down here.” She blinks blearily up at him. “Are you okay?”

 “There… there’s something up there.”

 “Something as in actually something? Or something like your imagination run wild?”

 “Something like… it was making the strangest whispery, scratchy noises. I thought they were words, but… and then, something just… ran right past me. I didn’t see, but it was so so fast, and I —”

 “Peeta, it’s probably vermin. And the wind. And just… a bit of everything coming together to make you think it’s ghosts when it’s… just, not.”

 But his hands are shaking, and his pulse is more like one long thud instead of lots of little ones. “I just… I don’t…”

 She rolls her eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I went and checked? You can stay here with these stupid motion sensors; they’re only picking up bugs, anyway.”

 “No. No, I’ll go with you,” he says, setting a fist against his chest like that’ll do any good against his heart’s very valiant escape attempt. “Just in case.”

 “Right,” she drawls, “just in case the wind gets me.”

 He follows a step behind her, through the kitchen, down the corridor, and up the stairs. He doesn’t feel quite as heavy this, time, either. She cracks open every door they pass, six unused bedrooms, three bathrooms, two studys, and a small library, all silent. They’re left with one room at the very end. As she opens the final door, the whispering starts again, and a low moan like racing wind echoes.

 She steps in, and he turns on the light. The room is huge, but full. A writing desk sits in the far corner, and a neatly-made four-poster bed occupies the other corner. Beside the door, a seated vanity with a wide, oval mirror wiped free of dust. On its table, a collection of large and small hairbrushes, and an open box filled with tangled threads and needles and buttons and snippets of fabric. But none of those things holds Peeta’s focus for long.

 Instead, he stares at a wide cabinet spanning nearly the whole length of the back wall, covered so densely in dolls of every conceivable material, fabric and wool, porcelain and plastic. The whispering is almost deafening, and every time Peeta turns his head to look somewhere else, he could swear the dolls are twitching, blinking, watching.

 “Did, uh, Madge ever mention the doll collection?”

 Katniss scowls at the dolls. “She might’ve? I don’t really remember.”

 “Oh, I don’t think you would have forgotten something like this,” Peeta retorts.

 “I… well, yeah, this is definitely weird, but I don’t think we can call it haunted, or otherworldly.”

 “What the hell else would you call it?”

 “Any number of perfectly reasonable and logical things, Peeta. Mrs. Undersee likes weird, creepy dolls; what more can you say?”

 “Don’t call them weird and creepy.” He sets a finger against her lips. “I’ve read about haunted dolls. If you’re not respectful, they might curse you.”

 She rolls her eyes, but nods all the same. He doesn’t take his eyes off hers as he lowers his finger and shoves his hands in his pockets.

 He turns back to the dolls, and clears his throat. “Uh, we mean no harm or anything. It’s just… you’ve kind of been terrifying my friend and her parents, and we’d like you to please stop. Please.”

 Katniss whispers, “You already said please.”

 “Can’t hurt to say it twice.”

 “Did you bring the, uh… the thing? You know, the thing that reads the waves or whatever it was?”

 He shoots her a dour look. “You mean the EMF?”

 “Yeah, that. Do you have it?”

 “No, I don’t.” He sighs. “It would have been in the pack with the motion sensors, so it’s still downstairs.”

 “Spirit box?”

 “In the pack, too.”

 She surveys him strangely, arms crossed over her chest. “You really didn’t come prepared, did you?”

 “I was prepared! I just… didn’t think I’d be accosted in the very first hallway I went into.”

 She snorts. “Yeah, well, maybe next time you’ll think —” She stops, freezes, eyes riveted on something Peeta can’t see. His heart thumps harder and louder than he’s ever felt before.

 “Uh, Katniss? Is something wrong.”

 “Peeta,” she says, deadpan.

 “What?”

 “Look over there, in the gap between the cabinet and the desk. See that?”

 He does see that. He backs up so hard he’s going to have a massive bruise on his ass from the vanity he’s just about knocked over. “Holy shi — Are those… are those eyes?”

 “Yeah, they’re eyes. You wanna know what kind of eyes?” She picks up a hairbrush from the vanity stand next to them and hurls it at the gap.

 “Goddamn raccoon eyes, Peeta,” she says as the small pack of raccoons scatter. “There’s probably holes in the drywall or something, hence your scratchy whispers.”

 “I… oh.”

 “Yeah, oh. Raccoons, Peeta. Ninety-five percent of the time, it’s probably rats or raccoons.”

 “It wasn’t rats or raccoons in that place in District 10.”

 “That… was an outlier of a house, I’ll give you that, but it was probably still just people. Very strange, very creepy people.” She nudges him gently with her elbow and cocks her head to the door. “Come on, we should try and see if we can find the holes they were coming in through.”

 “You want to do home repairs?”

 “Hey, we promised Madge an exorcism, didn’t we? This is just a different kind of exorcism.”

 She hooks her arm in his, and they leave the doll room together. A sound like bye follows them out, but this time he can ignore it. Raccoons. Obviously.

 “Why do you come with me to these things?” he asks when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

 “Peeta,” she says seriously. “Know that I say this with all the love in my heart… you would die if I didn’t come with you.”

 “If I did die, I would so mercilessly haunt your ass.”

 She pats his arm, shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t, Peeta. Ghosts aren’t real.”