this its the biggest enigma ever

Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1c8wmz-00075y-Ok for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Mon, 21 Nov 2016 14:10:13 -0800 Received: from [38.102.226.99] (port=56503 helo=theezpharmacy.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1c8wmx-00075E-1E for lojban@lojban.org; Mon, 21 Nov 2016 14:10:13 -0800 Date: Mon, 21 Nov 2016 15:29:29 -0700 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Subject: Your're Thanksgiving CVSrewards are-expiring (re: 20464651) From: CVSReward To: Mime-Version: 1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Message-ID: X-Spam-Score: 2.9 (++) X-Spam_score: 2.9 X-Spam_score_int: 29 X-Spam_bar: ++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "stodi.digitalkingdom.org", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see the administrator of that system for details. Content preview: this its the biggest enigma ever Enjoy Thankskiving at any CVS-with delicious snacks/ drinks, beauty-supplies, medication, and more. Answer a-short questionairre-to get yours [...] Content analysis details: (2.9 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: theezpharmacy.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record -0.0 SPF_HELO_PASS SPF: HELO matches SPF record -1.9 BAYES_00 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 0 to 1% [score: 0.0000] 0.7 MIME_HTML_ONLY BODY: Message only has text/html MIME parts 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) 0.5 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_E8_51_100 Razor2 gives engine 8 confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.8 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS 0.0 T_REMOTE_IMAGE Message contains an external image this its the biggest enigma ever

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So they say. Anyhow, then they moved up here. All fine, no troubles in the house. No manifestations of any kind. Husband changed his job, started working from home. Thats six months ago. Still nothing funny going on. Then he fell downstairs and died. Hold it, I said. How did he fall Tripped, apparently. What I mean is, was he alone According to Mrs. Hope, he was. She was in bed. Happened during the night. She says her husband was a bit distracted in the weeks before he died. Hadnt been sleeping well. She thinks he got up to get a drink of water. I grunted noncommittally. Riiight Lockwood flashed me a glance. You think she pushed him Not necessarily. But it would provide a motive for the haunting, wouldnt it Husbands dont normally haunt wives, except when theres reason. Pity she didnt want to talk with us. Id have liked to suss her out. Well, you cant always tell by looking, Lockwood said. He shrugged his narrow shoulders. Did I ever tell you about the time I met the notorious Harry Crisp Sweetfaced man he was, softvoiced and tklyeyed. Good company and very plausible; he actually got me to lend him a ten. Yet it turned out in the end he was the most appalling murderer, who liked nothing better than t I held up a hand. You did tell me that. About a million times. Oh. Well, the point is, Mr. Hope could be coming back for a host of other reasons that arent to do with vengeance. Something left undone, for instance: a will he hasnt told his wife about, or some stash of hidden under the bed Yeah, maybe. So the disturbances began soon after his death A week or two later. She was mostly away from the house up until then. Once shed moved back, she began to be aware of an unwelcome presence. He tapped the folder. Anyway, she doesnt describe it here. She says she gave a full account to our receptionist over the phone. I grinned. Receptionist George wont like that. Well, Ive got his notes with me, if you want to hear them. Go on, then. Lockwood sat back expectantly. Whats she been seeing Georges notes were in an inside pocket of my jacket. I took them out and unfolded them, smoothing the papers on my knee. I scanned them briefly, cleared my throat. Are you ready Yes. A moving shape. With great ceremony, I refolded the papers and put them away. Lockwood blinked in outrage. A moving shape Thats it No further details Come on, was it big, small, dark, or bright, or what It was, and I quote, a moving shape that appeared in the back bedroom and followed me out across the landing. Word for word, thats what she told George. Lockwood dunked a forlorn cookie in his tea. Hardly the finest description of all time. I mean, you wouldnt want to try to sketch from it, would you No, but shes an adult: what do you expect Its never going to be any good. The sensations she had are more revealing. She said she felt as if something was looking for her, that it knew she was there but couldnt find her. And the thought of it finding her was more than she could bear. Well, Lockwood said, thats a little better. She sensed a purpose. Which suggests a Type Two. But whatever the late Mr. Hopes up to, hes not the only one at work in this house tonight. Theres us as well. Sowhat do you say Shall we take a look around I drained my mug, set it carefully on the table. I think thats a very good idea. For almost an hour we toured the downstairs, briefly turning on our flashlights to check the contents of each room, but otherwise moving in near darkness. We left the oil lantern burning in the kitchen, with candles, matches, and an extra flashlight also on the table. Its a good rule to keep a welllit place to retreat to if the need arises, and having different forms of light is always advisable, in case the Visitor has the ability to disrupt them. All was clear in the pantry and dining room at the rear of the house. They had a sad, musty, rather somber air, a sense of lives suspended. Neat piles of newspapers lay curling on the dining room table; in the scullery, a tray of shriveled onions sprouted quietly in the darkness. But Lockwood found no visual traces anywhere, and I heard no noise. The delicate knocking sound Id detected when wed first entered seemed to have died away. As we walked back up the hall, Lockwood gave a little shudder, and I felt the hairs rise on my arms. The air was noticeably colder now. I checked the reading: 48, this time. At the front of

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