When the Petersons rented out their Victorian home for short term lodgers, they expected guests, tips, and occasional weird reviews about the creepy antique mirror on the second floor. They did not expect a caffeinated haunting that started with the espresso machine in the kitchen.

It began with new guest Lisa who started to make herself a mocha late one night, the machine hissed like a dragon waking from a nap, spitting out a frothy cup of foam that shimmered with faint ghostly faces mouthing words.

Lisa blinked, leaned closer, and heard whispers.

“Brew…beware…too strong…”

Suddenly the lights flickered, the microwave beeped Morse code, and the house groaned.

Lisa dropped the cup but it didn’t shatter. Instead, it hovered in midair, and spun slowly as the walls began to echo with faint laughter and the unmistakable aroma of burnt sugar filled the house. Lisa assumed she was dreaming and went back to bed, sans mocha.

She wasn’t dreaming though. Every time someone brewed coffee, the mochas moaned, the cappuccinos cackled, and the flat whites whispered secrets about the previous lodger’s tax returns.

The Petersons tried unplugging the machine, but it plugged itself back in. The thermostat blasted cold air, sometimes hot steam as if it was trying to froth air or a blend of both. It was either the temperature of the Antarctic or the Sahara Desert in the house. Neither was very nice.

The neighbors reported seeing strange sightings like cups floating by themselves, mysterious steam shapes dancing in windows, and the Bluetooth speakers mysteriously tuning to a radio station playing Gregorian chants remixed with jazz.

The listing was updated. Experience vintage charm with a dash of the supernatural. Coffee included, but caution, it may possess your soul.

One brave guest left a review: Five stars for ambiance. Two stars for the espresso-induced poltergeist.

The Petersons started including holy water in the welcome baskets.