The Ghost Who Wouldn’t Leave a Bad Review

Kevin knew the Airbnb was haunted the second he walked in.

It wasn’t the creaky floors or the flickering lights. It wasn’t even the way the temperature dropped ten degrees every time he passed the bathroom. It was the muttering.

Low, whispering complaints from the walls, like a disappointed pensioner in a supermarket queue.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. Then, on his first night, as he settled into bed, a voice groaned from the corner of the room:

“Ugh. This place used to be so much nicer.”

Kevin sat up, in a panic. “What?”

The voice sighed. “Back when Mrs Holloway owned it. Before they put in those godawful spotlights. I mean, honestly. Who renovates a Victorian home with IKEA lighting?”

Kevin turned on the bedside lamp. The room was empty.

“Are you… a… a… ghost?” he barely managed to ask.

“Obviously. Who else would be complaining at this hour?”

Kevin blinked. “You’re… upset about the lighting?”

“And the décor,” the ghost grumbled. “They painted over the original wallpaper, you know. Floral print. Absolutely stunning. Now? Just blank white walls. No personality. No history. No soul.”

Kevin pulled the covers up. “You don’t, like… want to kill me or anything, do you?”

“What? No, no, I’m not that kind of ghost. I just want people to know this place has gone downhill.”

Kevin was much relieved. “Oh. Well, I mean, I guess you could leave a bad review?”

There was a long pause. “I couldn’t do that.”

“…Why not?”

“Because Jeremy is lovely.”

“Jeremy?”

“The host. Sweet man. Bakes his own bread. Uses real butter, not that margarine rubbish. You can’t just destroy someone’s livelihood over a few bad design choices.”

Kevin stared at the ceiling. “So you’re just going to… haunt this place forever and complain about it?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Have you talked to Jeremy?”

“Oh, sure. I ruffled some curtains. Moved a mug. He thought it was a draft.”

Kevin sighed. “Look, I’ll mention it in my review if you want. I’ll just say, like, ‘Great stay, friendly host, but the ghost thinks the house has lost its charm.’”

“Hmm. Maybe also note that the pillows are a bit too firm?”

“Sure.”

“And that the wi-fi cuts out at night?”

“Okay.”

“And that it wouldn’t kill them to put one antique back in here? Just one. For the aesthetic.”

“Fine.”

“You’re a good man, Kevin.”

“Thanks, Ghost.”

He heard a satisfied sigh. Then silence.

The next morning, Kevin left a five-star review.

Jeremy replied, thanking him for the feedback and promising to look into the wi-fi issue. He didn’t mention the ghost.

But when Kevin checked the listing a month later, he noticed the place had been updated.

A single antique chair in the corner.

Kevin smiled. Somewhere, a ghost was finally at peace.