approach.
"Hi, my name's Misty Sales. Are you the curator of the museum?'
He narrowed his eyes. "Yes, Samuel Groves. I'm the new curator of the Hillgrove Rural Life and Industry Museum , which is its proper name."
I was encouraged by the fact that his tone was less unpleasant. "Hillgrove is an old place. There must be lots of ghosts here."
The man simply mumbled to himself.
I pressed on. "Have you heard of anyone seeing any ghosts here? Or heard of bad things happening?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I'm a journalist for a paranormal magazine. I'm writing a story on the ghosts here in Hillgrove and Bakers Creek Falls." I wasn't getting anywhere with the man, so thought it wouldn't hurt to give him that information.
"You can't use my name," he snapped.
I hurried to reassure him. "Oh no, of course not. Whatever you say will be completely anonymous. Do you know anything about any ghosts around here?"
He walked to look out one of the large, sash windows at the back of the building, and I followed. "What sort of ghosts?" he asked.
"Well, any sort really," I said. "Is there an evil presence or anything bad around these parts?"
"Could be; why do you want to find it?"
I bit my lip. "I don't want to find ghosts as such; I just have to write about them."
He simply looked at me, and walked across the room and then outside the building.
I stood there, in front of a group of Freemasons' photographs, shaking my head. That didn’t go so well , I thought. What will I do next? I walked around the museum, trying to gain inspiration, but there were no clues about any entity, whether evil or otherwise.
The curator presently returned and busied himself stacking piles of pamphlets across a long bench against a side wall. I watched him from the farthest room. As I was about to leave, a younger man walked in and chatted to the curator. I walked back into the main room, and looked at an old cash register and an ancient set of scales on a bench, with packets of century-old cleaning products and foodstuffs on a big shelf behind the bench.
I was peering at an old cardboard packet labeled Watson's Matchless Cleanser Soap when the younger man approached me. "Hi again. Misty, isn’t it?"
I turned around. "Oh yes, Ethan the photographer. I didn’t recognize you when you were talking to the curator, sorry."
"You found the body, didn't you." He said it as a statement of fact.
I nodded. "Yes; did the police interview you too?"
Ethan looked quite put out. "Yes, and they wanted my camera. I deliberately gave them the wrong one." Ethan's hand flew to his mouth. "Oh, don't tell them, will you, whatever you do. I was just so excited at the photos of that unusual snake, so I gave them my other camera. I didn’t want them deleting photos of that snake by mistake, and who knows how long they would've kept it! They still have the camera I gave them. Anyway, I never go anywhere near the cliffs, so I knew I didn’t have anything they wanted."
I nodded. "They took my friend's camera too, and she hasn't got it back. Look, Ethan, I'm a journalist for a paranormal magazine, and I'm looking for ghosts around here."
Ethan looked shocked. "Ghosts?" he repeated.
"Yes," I said. "Have you heard of any ghosts around these parts? I'm writing a story on ghosts at Hillgrove and Bakers Creek Falls, but so far I haven’t managed to find any."
Ethan looked thoughtful. "I haven’t heard anyone say anything about ghosts." He scratched his chin. "There have been a fair few murders here at Hillgrove as well as out at Bakers Creek Falls, so you’d think there would be ghosts around here, I suppose, if you believe in that sort of thing."
I nodded.
"Oh, sorry, Misty, no offense."
I shrugged. "None taken. So, no one's ever mentioned seeing a ghost? Or even sensing the presence of evil?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "You mean evil, because there were so many murders out here? You think Hillgrove must be an evil place or have evil spirits or something?"
I tried to look