No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.
– the Haunting of Hill House

We are ghosts in our own houses right now, living something like a half-life: the grey, blurry days that stumble into one another without end, flickers of human contact blaze and fade away. We haunt our own living rooms and bedrooms, we rattle our closet doors and gaze outside our windows as we search for memories of better times.

There was never better time to craft a homage to the tropes of the Haunted House.