Politely Asking the Spirit Haunting My House to Wait Until After the Election to Terrorize Me

Listen, I get it. You’ve been lurking in this creaky old house for centuries. It’s your time to shine—Halloween is your Super Bowl. But could we maybe hold off on the supernatural terror until after the election?

I’m barely keeping it together. You’ve been doing a stellar job with the whole “creepy footsteps in the hallway” routine and the bloodcurdling screams at 3 a.m. Chef’s kiss. But I live in a swing state, and between the ad blitz, campaign flyers, and the fifteen daily texts from Tommy with Democracy Matters, I just don’t have the emotional bandwidth for your spooky nonsense right now.

You see, I’m already jumping at every notification, so your creepy whispering in the walls isn’t helping. I know whispering my name from inside the walls is, like, your “thing.” Classic ghost move. But every time my phone pings with “New poll shows dead heat in key swing states!” my soul momentarily leaves my body. So, your ghostly whispering? Honestly, it’s just background noise at this point. You’re no longer competing with jump scares—you’re competing with CNN push notifications. If you really want to spook me, try whispering, “Your absentee ballot was rejected,” because that would end me.

The poltergeist-level door-slamming is a wasted effort as well. At this point, every time a door creaks open or slams shut, I assume it’s another volunteer trying to get me to vote for the local school board race. Again. I fully expect you to pop out of the closet with a clipboard asking if I’ve updated my voter registration. You can’t scare someone who’s already terrified that they’ll forget to bring two forms of ID to their polling place.

Yes, I saw the blood-dripping handprints you’ve been leaving on the walls. Very spooky. But have you seen the attack ads playing on TV right now? They are far more unsettling. Every commercial break is a rollercoaster of doom: one minute, it’s “Vote against tyranny,” and the next, it’s “This candidate is coming for your taxes—and your soul.” I realize you’re trying your best with the whole “gory handprint” thing, but frankly, until I know who’s running for city comptroller, I’m unfazed.

Look, we’re in the final days before the election, and I’m barely holding on. If you keep trying to haunt me now, I will not react with fear—I will react by crumpling into a sobbing heap, muttering about voter turnout in Pennsylvania. You think flickering the lights is scary? My mental state is already flickering. You want to see real terror? Show me a news alert that says, “Ballot Recount Begins.”

All I’m asking for is a little patience. Once the election is over, and I’ve either celebrated or doom-binged every existential article about democracy, I will be so ready for you to scare the bejesus out of me. Bring on the full-on possession. Spin my head around. Make me levitate. Turn the walls into rivers of blood. Whatever sinister thrills you’ve got up your translucent sleeve, I will be 100 percent into. But until then, I cannot handle supernatural nonsense and campaign robocalls at the same time. Let me survive this election, and I swear, I’ll leave out a whole séance spread: Ouija board, artisanal sage—the works.

So, please, ghost, demon, malevolent spirit—whoever you are—let’s circle back on this haunting in November.