Ghosthunter & Alana
Alana
So you chase the unseen with a flashlight, but have you ever wondered why a place feels haunted even when we prove nothing?
Ghosthunter
Sure, I’ve chased shadows for a decade, but there’s something weird about a place that just “feels” haunted even when the evidence is clean. Maybe it’s the history, maybe the energy… or maybe our own minds read it. Still, I’d love to hear your theory. Do you think it’s the architecture, the stories, or something else?
Alana
It’s like a ghost on a page that never got printed; the shape of a floor plan can whisper, the cracks in the walls can echo forgotten footsteps, and the stories we tell it feed the phantom. But most of all, the place is a mirror—our own doubts and dramas reflect back in the light, turning ordinary dust into something to fear. So it’s both the brick and the brain, and the line between them is a thin, humming curtain you can’t quite see.
Ghosthunter
I hear what you’re saying, but I’m still looking for hard proof. Until the dust settles, I’ll keep my flashlight on. Still, it’s neat how a room’s shape can play tricks on the mind.
Alana
Sounds like a good plan—light is the only thing that stays when the shadows shift. Maybe the proof will be in the way the beams cross, not in what you find. Keep watching, and let the room tell you what it wants.
Ghosthunter
You’ll see the beams dance when the air shifts, that’s when the room’s pulse starts talking—watch it, and let the light do the talking.