London, 1941

The police car rolled slowly down the obliterated streets.  Another bombing has occurred over the night, and they had been sent out to search for any survivors.

"Miserable job..." One of the men grunted. The man driving nodded, turning down another street. He slammed on the brakes, and the car jolted violently. "What the hell?"

The man driving raised a shaking hand. The entire block had been levelled to the ground... Except for one, single house. The two men stared at the Victorian style house, which stood lonely, and completely untouched by the bombs. They drove down the road, rolling to a stop in front of the house.

"That's... That's not possible..."

The two men got out of the car and pushed open the door. It creaked as light spread into the dark entry room. It was pristine, apart from a thick layer of dust. Silver cutlery was laid perfectly out on the kitchen table in the next room. Untouched China teacups were place meticulously out on the coffee table. One of the men dipped his finger in the tea.

"It's still hot." He said, his voice tight.

"Well of course it is." A woman said from the doorway. "What would be the point of cold tea?"

The men spun around. She stood there, transparent in the morning sunlight. She disappeared. The men screamed, racing out the now empty doorframe, and back onto the destroyed London street...

* * *

Nick threw the decorative fruit bowl off the kitchen table, and slammed Davids spasming form onto the wooden surface. "What the hell is going on?" Riley asked, racing into the room as Nicks body healed, bullets being pushed out of his skin and hitting the tiled floor as his flesh knitted itself back together.

"Long story, get me a scalpel."

"We don't have a scalpel." Riley scoffed.

Nick rounded on him, "Well get me something bloody sharp, and a set of tweezers before David dies on our kitchen table!" He took the bullet cartridge out of the pistol he'd stolen, and inspected the shining projectiles in the light.

"Silver?" Genieve asked, appearing beside him.

"Not entirely, silver is too soft to make bullets, it doesn't fly straight, but possibly infused?"

Riley emerged from the kitchen draws with a large knife, and the tweezers. Nick snatched them out of his hands. "Hold him down." Riley braced David against the table. Nick ripped open the man's shirt. Black veins and capillaries snaked their way across his chest from the multiple gaping bullet holes. Nick steadied his hand, and moved to make the incision. He'd barely dug out the first bullet when something slammed against the front door.

"Let us in you undead bastards!" A voice screamed from outside. Nick swore. He slipped his arms under David and began to move upstairs.

"What's going on?" Riley asked, as Nick neared the top stair.

"Hunters." Nick hissed.

Riley's head spun around. "What do we do?"

Nick hesitated, as someone slammed into the door again. "Call the police, act like a normal person would if someone were to break into your house." Nick kicked open Davids bedroom door and threw the man onto the ground.

Riley leapt towards the phone, diving over the couch to get to it. It was only a few moments before he was onto the police. "Hello, yes, t-there are men trying to break into my flat! I think they might be drunk." There was a gunshot from outside, "And armed." He gave them the houses address.

There was a crash as a dumpster was thrown through the living room window, sending shards of glass everywhere. Riley dropped the phone, and raced up the stairs, not bothering to hang up. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard a scream. A terrible, inhuman scream. He cupped his hands over his ears as he turned around. The men had clambered through the window, and were staring at Genieve, who stood in the centre of the room.

Her form flickered, vanishing in and out of existence, like she was glitching through the fabric of the universe. Every time she appeared she looked different. Her usual shirt and jeans. A Victorian servants outfit. A home-front style dress. A flower print sundress. An 80's off the shoulder sweater. She jerked forwards towards the hunters, who backed up against each other. They fired several rounds, which sailed straight through the girl.

Just as one of the hunters stepped forwards, a lamp flew across the room and smashed against the wall. Then another. Plates and mugs, TV remotes and scrabble pieces whirled around them, like they were the eye of a home appliance hurricane. Genieves body rose up from the ground, her hand standing up on end, and her eyes rolling back into her head. Her head slowly twisted at an odd angle towards a wall. Paint began to peel and scrape off the wall, flakes falling to the ground revealing the brickwork underneath.

LEAVE

Sirens blared outside as police cars showed up. The circling objects crashed to the ground, and Genieve disappeared, for good. Riley ducked up the stairs as police crashed through the door...

* * *

London, 1959

There was a faint click, and a giggle, as the door to the old apartment swing open. Three teenage girls, two accompanied by their boyfriends, snuck into the dark, dusty entrance room.

"Cindy are you sure this is a good idea?" One of them asked.

Cindy, a tall, curvaceous blonde girl, twirled on the spot to face her friend, smugly. "What, scared, Gabbie?"

"Well, no..." Gabriella said quietly. She was a shy, plump girl, with glasses and a ponytail.  "It's just... What if we get in trouble? This place is locked up for a reason."

"Yeah," smirked Cindy's boyfriend Mitch, "Cause it's haunted."

"Please," Veronica, the third girl, who's tight tye dyed dress looked almost other worldly illuminated by the slits of light coming through the windows, "It's closed cause no one wants to rent it. It's been standing since the eighteen hundreds. Ghosts aren't real." Her boyfriend Rick began to write his name in the dust with his fingertip.

"Well, how about we check?" Cindy grinned a wide, perfect grin. She pulled out a box from her backpack, and lay a ouija board out on the floor, the wooden pointer upside down on its surface. Four of the teens sat down. Gabriella didn't. Cindy reached up, grabbed hem of the girls sweater, and pulled her down. All of them placed their fingers on the wedge in the centre.

"What do we do now?" Gabriella asked nervously.

"Ask a question, dummy." Rick rolled his eyes, Veronica giggled.

Cindy cleared her throat. "Are there any spirits here with us in this house?" Nothing happened. Gabriella let out a breath of relief. Then, the wedge began to move beneath their fingers. It stopped, displaying the word 'YES'.

"Who did that?" Gabriella squeaked. The five looked around at each other. Silently. Suspiciously. "I-It's not funny, okay?"

Cindy swallowed hard. "W-What is the name of the spirit here with us?"

The wedge moved around the board, landing on letters, which Veronica read aloud to the group. "G. E. N. I. E. V. E."

"Genieve." Gabriella muttered, sloping forward. Her voice sounded strained.

"Gabbie?" Cindy muttered, elbowing her friend in the ribs. Gabriella's glasses slid off her face, and clattered against the floor.

"Help..." Gabriella whispered. Her head shot upwards. Her green eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she stared a blank white stare around at the group. Veronica squealed. Gabriella's hair stood up on end, splaying out from her pony tail as she began to levitate, rising up into the air her arms outstretched. "Help me..." The house shook, shutters slamming open and closed so hard they broke clean off their hinges.

The group began to scream as they leapt to their feet, sprinting to fast for the door they left the ouija board on the floor behind them. "Get out before the neighbours realise!" Rick yelled over the noise. Gabriella floated downwards, before landing on the floor gentle. Her eyes rolled forwards again. And she began to pant wildly, her fingers scurrying across the floor in the search for her glasses. She had felt cold, and distant as she watched her body float up into the air and seeming speak of its own accord from across the room. A hand swam into her blurred vision, holding out her glasses. She took them, nervously, and put them on.

For a brief moment, she could have sworn the young woman in front of her was wearing a Victorian era dress. But, when she looked closer she saw her wearing a flower printed sundress. "No hard feelings." She said. "Just having a bit of a laugh."

Gabriella scrambled backwards. "Who are you?" She asked, panting.

The redheaded woman grinned. "Genieve." Gabriella screamed, running out of the house, the door slamming shut behind her.

* * *

Nick returned downstairs after the hunters had been arrested. A remaining officer still stood in the doorway. "Of course, at least one of you will have to be present at court," the woman explained. The two men agreed, offered the woman a cup of tea, which she politely refused, and bid her goodbye. The pair set about cleaning up the smashed glass and pottery.

"Looks like those guys made a mess." Nick grumbled, sweeping part of the shattered window into a dustpan.

"Not them." Riley whispered, looking around him. He nodded at the word carved into the wall beside them.

Nick shook his head. "Gen? Please. She's a poltergeist. She can throw a few teacups and rattle pipes, not upend the sofa-"

"I'm telling you man... It's like she was fragmented... Like she couldn't stay together..." He pointed nervously at at the spot where Genieve had been floating.

Nick nodded, slowly. "I... I can maybe look into it. I think I know someone..." There was a crash from upstairs. Riley waved the broom about in the air, spooked. "It's Dave. He probably fell off the bed. He's still spasming."

"I take it he's not doing well then?"

Nick tossed the finals trash bag full of debris into a corner. "He's healing, but slowly. Maybe too slowly. It was almost like... Like where the bullets hit had begun to disintegrate." He pulled a small ziplock bag out of his pocket, which had a handful of black dust, like charcoal powder. "Like I said, I'll look into it...

Nick wandered downstairs late into the night. To him, even in the pitch black darkness, the room around him was as visible as if it were day. It was as much of a mess as he'd left it in when he'd gone to bed. He kicked a shard of ceramic mug across the room, and it skidded to a halt before it hit the wall. A cold draft blew through from the living room. Nick could see the door hanging wide open, and a translucent figure sat on the doorstep. He walked over and sat down beside Genieve, who stared blankly out onto the sidewalk.

"Did I do this?." The ghost asked quietly. Nick looked at her, surveying the situation. She didn't look back at him. "I-I did, didn't I?" The street lamp outside began to flicker, and the bins shook.

Nick nodded, slowly. "Listen, Genieve, I'm going to look into what happened tod—"

The disturbance stopped. "I don't even remember doing it, I just remember feeling..." Her voice broke. "I just feel so... So angry, and sad, and... Broken..." The trickster spirit began to sob. For the first time since Nick had moved into the apartment, for the first time in over thirty years, Genieve looked solid. Like she was living again, sitting there on the step beside him. Nick reached out an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. The two sat there, Genieve crying into his shoulder, for a while into the night. Then, eventually, the girl vanished, leaving Nick to close the front door, and climb the stairs back up to his room.

He paused when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking out into the room. "Like I said, I'll look into it."

* * *

London, 1972

There was a thunderous crash as the Victorian house was demolished. The contractor, Mr. R. Johnson watched the demolition from the other side of the street, glancing over his clipboard. He flicked through the plans for the new modern apartment that was to be built upon the site. He looked back up to see a young redheaded woman slip through a gap in the safety fence, and wander into the line of destruction in front of the bulldozer.

"Hey!" He screamed at her over the noise. "Hey, you-you can't be in there!"

He slammed the emergency button at a console, and everything rolled to a halt. The Forman raced into the area the woman was standing only seconds before... Only to find her gone. Vanished into thin air.

Construction on the modern apartment was completed later on in the year, and the first tenants moved in within the next six months. But they didn't stay for long. None of the tenants ever did. They always told this strange story of a redheaded girl, waiting for them in the doorway...