When hinges creak in door less chambers…and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls…whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still…that is the time when ghosts are present…practicing their terror with ghoulish delight.

Could you imagine the first person to have died? To have felt the sensation of being with their loved ones and leaving them to move to the other side? To wonder what was waiting for them. What reassurance would someone give them? What dead promises would you make to satisfy their anxiety? To ease their pain? There will be a light in the tunnel, an invigoration of hope and dreams.

There is no invigoration for some.

Many have pondered the nature of evil, of things going bump in the night. The truth is that evil is hardly inhuman. Often, we go about our way without you, and you just happen to bump into us. Ghosts and ghouls, from regions beyond, reach out to respond, to align and resign themselves. If someone dies, and nobody cares about them, what light could they go to? In truth, they stay, dwelling in their emptiness.

That's where I came in. I am the wise and powerful, Madame Leota. I was like many of our residents, alone, and scared, but I established the mansions, an endless web of stairs and doors leading to haunted homes across the world. From there, I would watch them, and lead them to sanctuary. 1000 years of isolation, cannot stay isolated forever. Travelers came by, from time to time, then…the brothers came.

A tall country boy in a grown man's body stood in a tan suit and a thin cap looking out over an excavation site. Around him, workers were busy cleaning up the dusted areas. His mustache was covered in dust as he looked over the project. The younger brother began to cough heavily, coughing and coughing and eventually clearing his throat before squinting in the bright sun.

"Walt!" The older brother shouted to him, and ran up in a white suit. The younger looked to him with a cigarette in his mouth, "Yeah?"

"We found something."

The younger brother followed his older sibling to a clearing. Our columns were crumbling, but in the sand and dirt, our façade was visible. Workers were brushing off the walls and picking at the roots that had grown along our borders. A Dreamer and a Designer, two brothers with a vision started building a Land around us and came across our New Orleans location.

"Anyone gone inside yet?" The Dreamer, or the younger brother asked. The Designer shook his head and explained, "No, everyone's gotten a bad feeling coming from inside."

The Dreamer looked to him then asked, "Is that right?"

He chuckled, then began to cough. His brother came to help him, but the younger brother shook it off before stepping down to the door. The Dreamer stepped up to our door, but it opened for him. He cleared his throat, then looked to the rather nervous Designer with a cheerful expression.

"Everything about what you're about to do is a bad idea." The Designer assured him. The Dreamer put out his cigarette then said, "That's what you said about Snow White."

He knocked on the open door, then called out to our hall, "Hello!"

There was no response. We weren't used to newcomers back then. He stepped inside and the floors creaked beneath his weight as he stepped forward and felt our dusty walls. He eventually made it into a large room surrounded by four portraits. He looked back at the Designer and remarked, "No windows or doors."

This was followed immediately by the floor beneath him collapsing and sending him down into our halls. The Designer shouted out for him, "Walt!"

The Dreamer coughed when he landed, waving the dust away as he climbed to his feet. "I'm fine Roy!"

"Stay there, I'm getting someone to help!" The Designer shouted down to him before running back to the workers. The Dreamer looked around at the dark halls and coughed a little more. As soon as he did, we lit the torches for him, leading him deeper. He looked down the way and leered at it, before reluctantly following them. He called us out, "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to scare me."

My chamber illuminated for him. I was a crystal ball in the center of a dark room, and he was a man looking for someone to talk to. He cleared his throat, "Excuse me?"

He approached the crystal ball and sat himself down facing me. My eyes lit up from the swirling ball and looked at him. He gasped and nearly fell out of the chair.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice echoing through the chamber. He fearfully looked around and asked, "Me?"

"No other mortals have been foolish enough to enter my chambers."

"Oh? This is your house?"

"My mansion, thank you. Mortals are not permitted in these halls."

"I'm here."

"You're dying. This is a place for the dead. Your breath is crackled and broken. It will cut you up inside."

The Dreamer gave me a look that could have killed me then asked, "And who exactly is giving me advice about what I should and should not do?"

"Her Excellency Madame Leota, maestro medium supreme." I answered. He chuckled, then introduced himself, "Well Madame Leota, I am Walter Elias Disney. I regret to inform you your mansion is right in the path of a project of mine."

"This mansion and its inhabitants will not be threatened by your accusations."

"No, no, not at all. Clearly you are a woman of great importance. How many residents are in this mansion, by chance?" The Dreamer asked.

"We have nine hundred and ninety-nine happy haunts here in our chambers." I closed my eyes, "Spirits, and souls, hidden from the sun, show yourselves by banging a drum!"

One of my drums in the corner began to bang loudly. This… 'Walter' chuckled at it, rubbing his chin, "Fascinating."

"What is?"

"What you just did? And you said they were happy haunts?"

"This is a place for them to retire and enjoy themselves, not someplace for you to rush in with your big machines."

"Of course, of course. I was just thinking, that maybe we could benefit each other."

"Explain yourself."

"Well, all of your ghosts can't possibly be that happy trapped under the ground, so I'm thinking that we excavate your mansion, maybe clean up the outside a bit and straighten the inside—"

I cut him off.

"You will not be tampering with these halls."

"No, not at all. But if we restore the mansion, then I would love to have people tour this place. It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Your pretentious compliments are appreciated, but the notion of permitting more mortals down here is ridiculous."

"Don't you want more haunts? To get out to spooking? You're ghosts, and if my entrance was anything to go by, clearly your friends are excited to scare some people. That bit with the floor? Nice but let's clean it up a bit."

"You raise a valuable suggestion Walter, but it will take more than a smile and a cute thought to convince myself and the other spirits."

"Absolutely. Tell ya what, my friends will excavate your mansion and my brother, and I will talk to you about sorting out this business of people going on tours."

"You are foolish enough to make deals with the dead?"

He chuckled and asked, shaking his head, "Dealt with worse. Ever hear of Oswald the Lucky Rabbit?"

"Walt!" The Designer shouted from down the hall, not having noticed me. The Dreamer shouted to him, "Hey Roy!"

"Walt! Stay right there, I've got help!"

"Roy! Get one of the Mickey Mouse toys from my trailer!"

"…What?"

"Trust me."

The Designer sighed, then called to one of the workers. The Dreamer went down the hall and came back with a plethora of strange objects. One of these included a small toy of a black creature with round ears and a pair of ridiculous red shorts. He offered it to me, "Here."

"What is that abomination?"

"This, is Mickey Mouse. He's a good friend of mine." He played with the arms to simulate the toy waving to me before offering it. I glared at the rat, and the man who held it. He cleared his throat then set it down at the base of my crystal. He took out another item, a round cap bearing those anatomically incorrect ears. "This is a prototype for something we're working on for the project. They're little hats you can put on your head and…"

He put them on his head and made a goofy face. How could someone his age act this immature? He set the ears next to the mouse.

"Now, we can bring more stuff for you and all your residents. And eventually word is going to get out, and I know, that we're cleaning up out there. And they'll ask questions, and you'll have to tell them. You seem like an honest person. So, if you want anything, name it. We'll give it to you." The Dreamer looked to me like a puppy awaiting a treat.

"What have you to gain from this, Walter?"

"I believe that this is a wonderful idea, and I'd like to pursue that idea to the best of my ability. We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're interested, and intrigue keeps leading us down new paths."

I blankly looked at him, then asked, "Did you steal that from somewhere?"

"No, that's my own. Needs work at that interest part though." He shrugged, then said, "It was an honor to meet you. Tomorrow, I've got another surprise for you."

"Walt!" The Designer shouted again, and he quickly rushed away. My curtains around the room came to life and picked up the toy so I could get a good look at it. Curious. A mirror floated to me, and my curtains set the hat on my crystal so it was tilted. This was obnoxious. I would never grow attached to these things. I smiled flatly and scoffed.

Every day from then for several years, my spirits and I got new toys and knickknacks. Rather than trying to destroy us, the foolish mortals tried to fix us, healed our corrupted exterior to its glory days, but we held them back from coming inside. This didn't stop them from sending more mortals into our coil. I was enraged at first, and for four years, I prohibited entry. I could only do so much for so long. That was, until the day that the Designer came down to visit us.

I was busy in my hoard of trinkets. I would never admit how many items I had collected, less I be embarrassed. I invited him in, "You may come in, Walter."

I tucked my trinkets away behind my curtains as the older brother entered. I was surprised and had never seen the older brother before. I politely asked, "Where is Walter?'

"Walt's not coming anymore." He answered, "I'm Roy."

"Don't tell me the fool is doing another South America trip."

"No…Walt…he's dead."

I stared at him in a touch of understanding and a touch of denial. I knew he was dying, but given how long it took I never considered it in forethought. The Designer was a little teary eyed.

"Dead?" I asked, having difficulty staying impartial.

"It was like you said. Habit finally caught up to him."

"…I'm sorry. Perhaps he is at one of the mansions, or the firehouse he used to live." I offered. Roy shook his head, "Madame. I came to tell you that no more gifts will be coming down here. I know you didn't care for Walt and his gifts, but I thought you might want to know."

"I understand…You're Roy, correct?"

He nodded slowly. I replied, "He talked a lot about you. A few jokes, but mostly admiration."

"Thank you."

"He loved you."

"Thank you."

A silence passed, and I offered, "I am the master medium, I could…contact him, if you'd like."

"No. I know what he would say."

"Oh."

There was another mournful silence and Roy turned to go leave, "He was always disappointed you never said yes."

As the old man turned and began to leave I called out to him, "Roy…"

He turned and saw my curtains reveal the massive accumulation of gifts I had gotten. With reluctancy, I admitted, "Anything not here is with one of my subjects. Walt made them very happy. Made all of us very happy…I will speak to my companions and…will make an arrangement regarding the deal."

"Thank you, I know that's very difficult to open up like that."

"I think you and Walt both deserve it. Now begone…"

He left, and I looked back to my stash. I summoned my mirror again and my curtains set the hat on my head before showing me the toy of the mouse. I pretended it walked for a little bit, and tried to call out to him, but there was nothing. All that I could do was call to my committee, and perhaps…perhaps, make something good out of all this.

"They want to corrupt our world! This puts all the Mansions in jeopardy!" Mister Gracey Sr. shouted. He was a plump man with a black waistcoat and a professional beard. Unfortunately, this notable professionalism was tactically obliterated by his red and white striped underpants.

"I think it's rather nice to have them here. I've never seen our residents so happy. They don't get much interaction outside of the mansion." Sally pointed out. She was dressed in a red and white dress with an umbrella by her side. "We need new things to progress."

"And how much space will they take? Hm? I heard what that mortal with the mustache wanted. He wanted to have mortals come through our halls, and even more mortals act as butlers and maids! They're stealing our jobs. He was a Dreaming fool!" Gracey shouted, pacing about the room.

"You will not speak ill of the dead!" I commanded. I was a swirling ball of blue fire at that age. I hadn't even learned to float yet. But my seance chamber was more than compliant in curtaining off any guests who came to talk with me. About my room I kept tokens, dead and living, of instruments and tarot cards. I liked to be aware of my surroundings. I still do.

"The Dreaming Brother was a showman, but he was not a fool. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from him about being aware of others." I corrected Gracey. Gracey scolded back, "You know perfectly that it was an accident."

"Your cohorts set you up to blow into a billion pieces after your statement regarding immigration, how is that accidental?" Sally asked, shaking her head.

"Your inflated ego is not required at this moment, or do you want more to gawk at your stockings? No wonder the alligator that swallowed you died from makeup poisoning. It's caked on you like grease!"

"Silence! Both of you! It doesn't matter if you were beautiful, or if you were politically important, because both of you are dead, aren't you? Need I get the other two involved?" I did my best to keep the childish adults under control. The threat of the other two was more than enough incentive.

"I don't want to have to deal with that pauper and that psychopath as much as everyone." Gracey mumbled. He fell back in a big wooden chair and began to rub his brow in stress. Although it was difficult to take him seriously when his boxers were out in the open.

"I've been talking with their engineers. They scoured our ranks and we found someone who could lead the guests through the mansion without causing problems." I suggested, and I often wondered how they gained access to our records. Regardless, I was rather excited to show the group this newcomer. I almost smiled.

"Who? Oh, please don't say it's Murphy." Sally turned horrified for a second, but I reassured her, "No, it's someone a little more suited to the position."

"What is he? Rich? Gorgeous? Loved? Wealthy? We want to leave a good impression on these mortals, so they know they will never amount to us." Gracey barked, but I elected to ignore his tone.

"He is none of the above, he was a nobody, a nothing in life. He took his own life because he thought it was the only way out. Hung himself in the observatory." I corrected. The silence that followed was awkward and cold. In a place full of death, taking a life, especially your own, still had some ground.

"He…killed himself?" Sally asked, kind of in shock, "Poor thing can't be in great shape."

"Myself and the engineers hoped that since he had no purpose in life, he'd find one in death. Enter, please." I invited the proposal. He was underwhelming in appearance, but perhaps the mortals would take comfort in it. He was a scrawny and tall man with long greased grey hair. His face was forgettable, and overall, he was near transparent.

He wore a blue torn coat and tan pants. 'Round his neck was a cut noose and a long nose protruded from his face.

"Introduce yourself." I ordered. He obliged with a wicked grin. He had been preparing for this. He opened his arms like a show-master. "Welcome, foolish mortals. I am your Host, your Ghost Host."

"That is quite the set of pipes." Sally noted. Gracey countered, "You can lead them through all you like, but this is about population control. There are nine hundred and ninety-nine ghosts in any mansion at any given day. We're already overcrowded. Adding mortals into the mix would just create more problems."

"These Mansions are more than big enough to deal with a few mortals. And to that point, a few of our ghouls have noticed a recurring pattern when some of our ghosts follow the guests." I let the room do enough explaining. My blue fire lit up the sides of the curtains to create a vision above all of them.

It showed a ghost sitting next to a guest on a buggy and continuing to be by the guest until they left the Mansion, upon that time, the ghost roamed freely around the square.

"For the first time in centuries, ghosts can leave the Mansion by hitchhiking with a guest, allowing them to roam the world freely. Some of our residents who may not feel welcome or want to go places they couldn't in life would take satisfaction in following guests." I explained, and our Host chuckled, "A ghost will follow you home."

"Indeed." I approved of the remark. "It should take care of that population control you were so worried about Mister Gracey. Shouldn't it?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Yes, it should. I'll allow it, but…I won't enjoy it."

"Have your heads fallen empty?" An annoyed old voice asked, barging into the room. A crouched man with wild hair and a walking stick came through. He was unlike the others and had a skeletal face with a gold tooth and a large top hat. The corpse-like ghoul looked annoyed.

"Whatever happened to respecting the wellbeing of everyone? Those little rugrats will wipe their snot all over well-aged ghosts like us!" The Hatbox ghost shouted out, waving his walking stick in the air.

"This is about the betterment of the Mansion, Hatbox, not your personal preference." I grew tired of the old thing sometimes. At least Constance had patience.

"They're loud, annoying, and needy! Let me just leave this dirty diaper here on the table, and expect everyone else to clean it, no, I can't possibly take my peeing child to the bathroom, let me just change its diaper right on the food buffet!" Hatbox screeched, grabbing his hat in frustration and squeezing it tightly.

"I think you should see someone about your diaper hatred." The Host pointed out, but Hatbox turned to him and scowled to silence him.

"We have already reached a conclusion, Hatbox." I tried to conclude this argument as quickly as possible, but the old coot didn't have it, "If you go through this, I'll leave this Mansion forever."

"Ok." Everyone else said simultaneously before returning to normal. Hatbox scowled and walked off grumbling and mumbling.

"So, we have reached an agreement?" I asked the three. Sally nodded, "Absolutely, if it doesn't work, we'll just close it off again."

"It won't matter. Who in their right mind would want to come to a Haunted Mansion anyway?" Gracey asked, looking at the others.