Spa For Ghosts
The sun was dipping below the horizon when Marjorie pulled up in front of the old Victorian house she’d recently purchased. The faded “For Sale” sign in front of the building still swayed gently in the evening breeze.
Marjorie beamed at the sight of her new venture, “The Spectral Spa,” a unique wellness center tailored exclusively for ghosts.
“So, this is it, huh?” Marjorie’s best friend, Claire, asked, squinting her eyes suspiciously at the creaky mansion. “You’re really going to turn this…haunted house into a spa for ghosts?”
Marjorie nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely! I mean, think about it. Ghosts have had centuries of built-up stress. Who knows what sort of ethereal knots they’re carrying around in their non-existent muscles? They need relaxation, and I’m here to provide it!”
Claire chuckled, “If you say so. But remember, I’m just here to manage the finances. I’m leaving all the…umm, ‘hands-on’ work to you.”
The inside of the house was dark and dusty, but Marjorie’s vision wasn’t deterred by cobwebs or the occasional rat scurrying by. She could see the potential. As she began setting up, she explained her vision to Claire.
“Ectoplasmic Exfoliation will be our most popular treatment. It’s perfect for those spirits who feel a bit…muddy, you know?”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “And Poltergeist Pedicures? What’s that about?”
Marjorie grinned. “Foot treatments! For ghosts who miss the sensation of having their feet pampered.”
“But they don’t have…you know what? Never mind.” Claire chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m in this now, so let’s make it work.”
Just as Marjorie was arranging the first few bottles of ethereal oils, a ghostly figure floated through the front door. A translucent woman in a Victorian-era gown looked around with wide, curious eyes.
“Is this…the spa for ghosts I heard about?” she asked in a whispery voice that seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Marjorie, trying to hide her excitement, responded, “Yes! Welcome to The Spectral Spa. How can we assist you today?”
The ghostly woman smiled, “I’ve been waiting centuries for something like this! I’ll start with the Ectoplasmic Exfoliation, please.”
As Marjorie got to work, Claire whispered to her, “You might be onto something here.”
Hours turned into days, and soon the Spectral Spa was bustling with ethereal clients. There was Casper, a 1960s hippie ghost who couldn’t get enough of the ‘Peaceful Poltergeist’ meditation sessions, and Lady Agatha, a 17th-century specter who’d become the spa’s unofficial gossip queen.
One afternoon, Lady Agatha floated over to Claire, her translucent form draped in a shimmering robe, a cucumber slice precariously balanced on each eye.
“Did you hear about the ghostly duke who’s been haunting Buckingham Palace?” Lady Agatha whispered, her voice dripping with intrigue.
Claire, always up for a good piece of gossip, leaned in, “Do tell!”
As the days wore on, Marjorie realized that while relaxation was a major selling point, the gossip traded among spectral clientele was equally valuable. The spa became the go-to place not just for treatments but for the juiciest otherworldly tidbits.
One evening, after another successful day, Claire turned to Marjorie with a grin, “You know, Marj, we might need to open a ‘Spectral Salon’ next door. The way these ghosts chatter, we’d make a fortune!”
Marjorie laughed. “One step at a time, Claire. One step at a time.”
Just a month after opening, the Spectral Spa was the talk of the afterlife. Word of mouth had spread like wildfire, and spirits from all over were visiting. The ethereal chit-chat wasn’t limited to local gossip anymore; tales from across continents and centuries were exchanged in the spa’s hushed chambers.
One misty evening, as Marjorie was preparing for a session of ‘Apparition Aromatherapy’, the grand entrance door creaked open. A shadowy figure floated in, draped in a cloak so dark it seemed to absorb the light around it.
Claire leaned over to Marjorie and whispered, “Who do you think that is?”
Marjorie squinted, trying to get a clearer view. “I’m not sure, but whoever it is, they seem…different.”
The cloaked figure approached the reception desk. Its voice was a deep rumble, echoing with age and wisdom. “I’ve heard tales of this place. I require your finest treatment.”
Claire, always one to seize an opportunity, quickly responded, “Certainly! Our premium package includes Ectoplasmic Exfoliation, Poltergeist Pedicure, and the newly introduced Ghoul Grooming. Would that suit your needs?”
The ghost nodded. As he moved closer, Marjorie could faintly make out the hint of a regal crown underneath the hood. She whispered to Claire, “Do you think that’s…”
Before she could finish, Lady Agatha floated over, barely able to contain her excitement. “Ladies! That’s King Harold! The one with the arrow and the Battle of Hastings? Oh, the stories he could tell!”
Throughout his treatments, King Harold remained mostly silent, adding to the air of mystery. The spa’s spectral regulars tried not to stare, but whispers filled the air. It was clear that today’s gossip was about their very own spa guest.
Once his treatments were done, King Harold seemed to be in a much lighter mood. He even chuckled as Marjorie recounted some of the more humorous spa tales.
As he prepared to leave, King Harold addressed Marjorie, “This place is unique. You’ve given spirits like me a chance to relax and remember. You’ll see more of me.”
Claire, ever the businesswoman, jumped in. “Don’t forget to tell your royal ghost friends about us!”
King Harold laughed, a sound that reverberated through the very walls of the spa. “Oh, they already know. Expect some regal guests soon.” With that, he disappeared into the misty night.
Marjorie turned to Claire, eyes wide. “Did we just serve a ghostly king?”
Claire smirked, “Just another day at the Spectral Spa. Now, get ready for tomorrow. If what he says is true, we’re going to be busier than ever!”
As dawn broke, Marjorie and Claire arrived at the Spectral Spa to prepare for another day. Today, the spa had a different vibe – there was an electric buzz in the air. Whether it was the result of King Harold’s visit or simply the evolving reputation of the spa wasn’t clear, but there was certainly an air of anticipation.
Around mid-morning, the door creaked open and in floated a parade of regal ghosts. There were queens draped in translucent gowns, kings donning faded crowns, and even a ghostly jester juggling ethereal balls. The spa was soon filled with the echoes of majestic laughter and whispered secrets of yore.
Lady Agatha was beside herself with excitement, floating from one royal to the next, gathering stories and occasionally sharing some of her own.
Marjorie approached a group of ghostly monarchs. “Welcome to the Spectral Spa! How can we serve you today?”
A regal lady with a ruffled collar and a pearl-adorned crown answered, “We’ve heard so much about this place. Queen Elizabeth sent me.”
Claire, overhearing the conversation, whispered to Marjorie, “Which Queen Elizabeth do you think she’s talking about?”
Before Marjorie could respond, the ghostly queen chuckled, “The first one, dear. Though I hear the second might pop in eventually.”
The day went by in a whirlwind of spectral treatments and royal relaxation. Marjorie and Claire were on their toes, making sure every royal spirit was attended to perfectly. But as the evening approached, the atmosphere took a slight turn.
Two ghostly kings from different eras began arguing about whose reign was more significant. Voices, or rather echoes, began to rise, and other ghosts started taking sides.
“I brought about the Renaissance!” declared one.
“And I defended our lands from invaders!” retorted the other.
Seeing the situation getting out of hand, Marjorie tried to intervene. “Gentlemen, please! This is a place of relaxation.”
The jester, seeing an opportunity, floated in the middle and quipped, “You think your reigns were impressive? I reigned supreme in the court of laughter!” This brought chuckles from some of the specters, easing the tension.
Claire, sensing the need to distract, chimed in, “How about a game? A royal relay of sorts? We could team up ghosts from different eras and have a fun competition.”
The idea was met with murmurs of agreement, and soon the Spectral Spa was hosting its very first “Royal Relay Race.” The sight of ghostly monarchs floating around in playful competition, cheered on by their spectral subjects, was a sight to behold.
As the night came to a close, the ghostly royals began to depart, thanking Marjorie and Claire for a day they wouldn’t soon forget, even in the afterlife.
Exhausted, Marjorie sank into a chair. “Who knew that catering to royal ghosts would be this intense?”
Claire laughed, “Just another day at the Spectral Spa, remember? But think of the stories we’ll have!”
The next morning, Marjorie woke up to her phone buzzing non-stop. Picking it up, she saw dozens of notifications from “Spectral Social” – the popular ghostly social media app. Confused, she opened it up and gasped.
The Spectral Spa was trending. Ghosts from all over were sharing their experiences, uploading ethereal selfies, and discussing the treatments they’d received. It seemed that yesterday’s royal visit had given them the spectral stamp of approval they didn’t even know they needed.
However, as with any trending topic, there were critics. Marjorie scrolled through a review that read:
“I visited The Spectral Spa yesterday. While I enjoyed my Poltergeist Pedicure, the ambiance was disrupted by a rather boisterous royal relay. Two stars.”
“Oh no,” Marjorie murmured.
Claire, sipping her morning coffee, peered over Marjorie’s shoulder. “You can’t please everyone,” she remarked. “But look at all the positive reviews!”
Another read:
“Five stars! Lady Agatha introduced me to the Ectoplasmic Exfoliation, and I’ve never felt more rejuvenated in my afterlife.”
And another:
“The Spectral Spa is a must-visit. The Ghoul Grooming session is a transcendent experience.”
Claire was right. The majority of the reviews were glowing, but Marjorie couldn’t help but fixate on the negative. “We need to ensure every guest has a perfect experience. Maybe we should introduce new treatments or activities.”
Just then, Lady Agatha floated in, looking more radiant than usual. “Darlings! Have you seen the buzz? Everyone’s talking about us!”
Claire chuckled, “We’ve noticed.”
Marjorie, ever the perfectionist, asked, “Agatha, what do you think we could improve?”
Lady Agatha pondered for a moment. “You know, darling, while the treatments are heavenly, some of us do yearn for a touch of the past—a reminder of our lives.”
Marjorie’s eyes lit up. “What if we host themed nights? Like a ‘Roaring Twenties Evening’ or a ‘Medieval Masquerade’?”
Agatha clapped her ghostly hands with delight. “Splendid! I’ll help you organize.”
Claire, always the voice of reason, added, “But let’s pace ourselves. One event at a time.”
Over the next few weeks, The Spectral Spa became not only a place of relaxation but also of reminiscence. Ghosts relived their favorite eras, danced to timeless tunes, and shared stories of their past lives. The spa was a bridge between the afterlife and cherished memories.
The negative review soon faded into obscurity as the spa’s reputation grew even stronger, becoming a haven for spirits seeking solace and connection.
