Oriental Rug

The carpet was apparently original to the house, and it did add a certain charm to the quaint little dining room. But it still gave Laura the creeps.

“Can’t we just get rid of it?” Laura asked for at least the tenth time since moving in.

Rich sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit reserved only when he was reaching the end of his patience.

“Just because it doesn’t match the table runner doesn’t mean we need to get rid of it,” Rich argued. “It adds so much character to the place, Laura.”

Laura sighed to herself and dropped it. It had nothing to do with her grandmother’s table runner, and Rich knew that. He just didn’t want to have to buy a new carpet.

Laura would have to change her tactics.

That night, after Rich fell asleep, Laura was in the bathroom on her phone. Research, she called it. Research that would help her get rid of the creepy, old carpet. She smiled a satisfied smirk.

The next afternoon, Rich’s nose crinkled in disgust as he entered the dining room.

“Does is smell weird in here to you?” Rich asked.

Laura shrugged from the kitchen.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, honey.”

Rich sniffed again and tried to place the smell. Egg salad maybe? But bad egg salad.

“Did you spill egg salad in here?”

Laura laughed. “I’m vegan, Rich. Why would I have eaten egg salad?”

Rich nodded. That was a silly question. By why did it smell like eggs in here? It usually smelled like the fresh cut flowers Laura would place, or moth balls.

A few days later, all the placemats were missing, and the tablerunner was piled messily on top of a chair.

“Were you cleaning in here, Laura?” Rich asked, mildly annoyed that he would have to redo the entire table before sitting down for his meal.

“No,” Laura called from the kitchen. “I clean on Saturdays, honey.”

Rich furrowed his brows.

“Did you wipe down the table just now?” Rich asked.

“Rich, just sit down and eat.”

Laura walked in after him, freezing when she saw the table. Her eyes grew wide in her skull, and the fork slide off her plate, clanging onto the carpet.

“I-I,” Laura stammered. “I just…”

Laura set her plate down on the table gingerly, as if the added weight of the plate of vegan burritos would shatter the solid wood table.

“Rich, this isn’t funny anymore.” Laura was angry now.

“I didn’t do this!” Rich argued back.

Laura shook her head and crossed her arms. “This is the second time today, Rich. Once after you left in the morning, and now. I’ve been in here all damn day. This is childish.”

“I’m telling you, Laura, I didn’t move anything in here!”

The strange occurrences continued through the rest of the work week, and by Friday night, Rich and Laura were eating dinner in the living room.

“And you’re sure no one was walking by?” Laura asked.

Rich shook his head furiously.

“It was 5:30 in the morning, Laura,” Rich explained again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I swear to God, it looked like someone was walking around in the dining room.”

“Jesus,” Laura shuddered. “But we have a security system, Rich. Who could have gotten in here?”

Rich was at his wits end. The dining room was not haunted. They had been living in this house for two months, and none of this had started until…

Rich’s eyes narrowed, then shut. Then he started laughing.

“Laura!” He laughed, grabbing the arm of the sofa to steady himself.

“What? What’s wrong?” Laura asked, confused.

“Have you,” Rich panted between laughs. “Have you been pretending the dining room is haunted so I’ll get rid of that damn carpet?”

Laura’s ears flushed red, her tell when she was lying.

The next afternoon, the carpet sat in the dumpster, and Laura scrubbed the egg salad residue off the floor.