I'm living with a young Agatha Christie in the Southern US. It's not a romantic thing, I'm a lodger, I'm never home anyways because I'm working in this big restaurant, a Texas-styled bar and grill, I'm there all the time, day and night, all the waiters are older like me and it's got the vague feel of an ongoing nightmare from which there's no escape ....
When finally I do get home Agatha tells me she wants to move. The paint has blistered on the walls into curses and demonic sayings, blood leeches from the walls and the rooms are filled with an evil presence. The house is possessed. I go upstairs and in the hall on the way to my bedroom I find myself - for a moment - floating, before I land next to my room.
I can't blame her for wanting to move and so I say goodbye and she leaves. Now I have no place to live and find my way to the outskirts of town to hitchhike on to another town. There are other, older drifters like myself there trying to catch a ride as well. And then I'm talking to someone who's explaining to me how the house wasn't really haunted, how the place where I floated through the air is a geophysical anomoly, and remember, when I was flying there in the plane, how I floated up in my seat when we flew over the house? And I hadn't remembered at all but now I do and it all makes sense...