The Ghost Who Couldn’t Mind His Own Business

Gordon P. Wetherby III died peacefully in his sleep in 1978.

He should have moved on to the afterlife like any respectable ghost, but Gordon had a problem: he was nosy.

In life, he’d been the neighborhood busybody, the man who peeked through curtains and “accidentally” listened to other people’s phone calls. Death, unfortunately, did nothing to cure this.

For forty-five years, Gordon has haunted his old Victorian home in the small town of Beechwood Heights. He’s rearranged furniture, made the thermostat mysteriously cranky, and occasionally whispered unsolicited advice into the ears of new tenants. Most have ignored him.

Until the McAllister family moved in.

The McAllisters:

Paul: A novelist suffering from a severe case of writer’s block.

Hannah: A true-crime podcast host who thinks the house’s “charming quirks” will make great content.

Timmy: Their 10-year-old son, who has a suspiciously high tolerance for spectral activity and may or may not be conducting ghost experiments in the attic.

At first, Gordon is thrilled. Finally—people worth haunting!

But it quickly becomes apparent that the McAllisters are… strange.

Paul stays up until 3 AM staring at his laptop and talking to himself. Hannah roams the house at night, narrating in a dramatic whisper to her podcast microphone. Timmy sets up “ghost traps” made of peanut butter and LEGOs.

Worse, they start ignoring Gordon’s attempts at subtle haunting. Doors slam? They assume it’s the wind. Lights flicker? “Old wiring.” Disembodied voice saying “You should really fix that leak in the upstairs bathroom”? They thank the “Alexa.”

Gordon decides he needs to escalate.

He rattles pots and pans, rearranges furniture into crude smiley faces, and even manifests fully in the living room wearing his most intimidating spectral frown.

The McAllisters’ reaction?

Paul: “Weird dream last night.”

Hannah: “Could be an episode, but I need better audio.”

Timmy: “Cool. Do it again.”

Things change when Hannah records a late-night episode in the basement and accidentally captures Gordon’s voice on tape. Not moaning or wailing—no, Gordon was muttering about how the neighbors’ hedge was “getting out of hand.”

Hannah posts the clip online. It goes viral. Suddenly, “The Nosy Ghost of Beechwood Heights” is an internet sensation.

Now strangers are showing up outside the house, hoping for a glimpse of Gordon. Paranormal investigators arrive with cameras. TikTok teens try to summon him with Ouija boards.

Gordon, used to a life (and afterlife) of quiet meddling, is overwhelmed. He tries hiding in the attic, but Timmy has already set up an entire “ghost lab” there. He tries haunting the garden shed, but Paul starts writing in it, using Gordon’s presence as “creative fuel.”

The tipping point comes when a reality TV crew moves in for a week to film Ghosts & Gossip: Beechwood Edition.

Suddenly, Gordon’s every move is scripted. “Float left on cue.” “Moan, but make it sadder.” “Can we get a plate smash in three… two… one?”

Even in death, Gordon realizes, there are worse things than being ignored—being managed.

By the end of the “season,” Gordon is desperate for peace. He finally appears before the McAllisters, explains (with much ghostly gesturing) that he’d just like a little privacy, and promises to haunt more politely if they keep the cameras away.

They agree—sort of.

Hannah still podcasts about him, Paul keeps him in his novels, and Timmy occasionally bribes him into helping with science projects. But at least there’s no TV crew.

For now.