We need an old priest and a young priest

This is a true story of 415-5 Bairstow.

Tuesday started off like any other day. I answered phones, Luke played with Blackberries, and Caleb made posters of women punching barefoot male ballerinas in the junk. Little were we to know that we would soon unwittingly host a guest from the afterlife.

After playing at From Jesus With Love, my friend Jenna from Hamilton came to stay the night, as she had to meet someone in Waterloo the next morning and didn't want to drive home. I extended hospitality to Jenna and offered her our couches for the night.

When we got home we were looking for something to do, and being an English major I naturally suggested Scrabble. in what can only be described as a shocking upset, Jenna leapt out to an early lead, with her first turn netting 78 points. Only the combined literacy of myself and Mook kept her at bay, and I was able to help Mook eke out a win by sacrificing myself on the last turn. Curious indeed that Jenna, a supposed music student, was able to so handily squash an English major at his own game.

Whatever, people had beaten me at Scrabble before. Jenna and I said our goodbyes as she was leaving early and we weren't sure whether we'd catch each other in the morning. So when I woke up and came downstairs the next morning I wasn't shocked to find that Jenna was gone without a trace; the couch cushions were neatly arranged, no dishes, not even a wet spot where her shoes were. What creeped me out was that all the doors were still locked. We all had our keys, no windows were broken, nothing. She had simply vanished. I called her cell to find out how she had done it, but received no answer.

I thought about it all day at work, the evening during supper, later that evening at rehearsal, and that night while at the pub. How did she do it? Where was her exit point? Jenna was small enough to fit through certain spaces, but she had a guitar with her! What had become of that? The questions yielded no answers, however, and the matter had begun to slip to the edges of my mind when I got home. I chatted pleasantly with the Leb and Mook whilst standing in the stairwell, as is our wont after a long, tiresome day of labour. Suddnly, we noticed that the bathroom light was flickering on and off randomly. The same thing happened with the basement light. There is only one workable conclusion:

Jenna never left the house.

We quickly tried to rally our minds to determine in what form Jenna continued to inhabit the house. Was she a Black Christmas-style psychopath, waiting in the attic until we fell asleep? Was she a collection of smaller animals, mice, let's say, who had learned to create in tandem a lifelike represntation of Jenna before dispersing throughout our domicile? Was she like the Sandman in Spiderman?

After much deliberation we fanned out into the house to see if we could discover where and in what form Jenna might still be in our house. The Leb, brave soul that he is, boldly volunteered to check the basement. Armed with only his camera, he headed downstairs among the flickering lights . Minutes later we heard a scream and saw a flash. he ran upstairs to show us the image he had captured:

The spectre of Jenna.

We will spend the next few days trying to find proton packs online and equpping our dryer to contain netherworldly spirits. In the meantime we ask that if you happen to run into the spectre of Jenna at our house, please do not agitate it. The spirit seems to have control over the bathroom lights which makes things difficult for us if it's angry.