What happened in your sims 3 game today?

Wasn't feeling my christmas story so I started a new one based on The Ghost and Mrs Muir Tv Series

he wind had a way of worrying the stones at Gull Lighthouse, slipping its fingers through every crack and seam as though trying to pry the place loose from the cliff itself. Outside, the sea rolled in its familiar gray restlessness, breaking against the rocks below with the steady patience of something that had all the time in the world.

Inside, Claymore stood near the hearth, rubbing his hands together more from habit than cold. He had never quite managed to feel entirely at ease in this place, not since he’d learned—much against his will—that he did not occupy it alone.

“Well,” he said aloud, clearing his throat, “I suppose you’ll hear it sooner or later.”

There was no answer at first. Only the ticking of the old clock and the low moan of the wind funneling up the tower.

Claymore sighed. “Captain Gregg,” he added, louder now. “If you’re skulking about—and I know you are—you may as well show yourself.”

A faint shimmer gathered near the window, like heat rising off stone, and then resolved into the unmistakable figure of Captain Daniel Gregg.

He stood with arms folded, sea coat buttoned high, expression carved from equal parts irritation and authority. His gaze swept the room, then settled sharply on Claymore.

“Mind your tone, Claymore,” the Captain said coolly. “This is my lighthouse.”

Claymore gave a tight, nervous smile. “Yes. Well. That’s rather what I wanted to speak to you about.”Captain Gregg’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve that look,” he said. “The one you get when you’re about to do something foolish.”

Claymore bristled. “Now see here—”

“Out with it,” the Captain snapped. “I haven’t all eternity to waste on your dithering.”

Claymore took a breath. “I’ve sold Gull Lighthouse.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than the stone walls themselves.

Captain Gregg stared at him, utterly still. Then, very softly, “You’ve done what?”

“Sold it,” Claymore repeated, attempting cheerfulness. “Perfectly legal transaction. Papers signed, money exchanged. Quite tidy, really.”

The Captain’s form flickered, as though the air itself had taken offense. “You had no right,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “This house was not yours to sell.”

Claymore spread his hands helplessly. “Be that as it may, the deed was in my name. And upkeep is frightfully expensive, you know. Roof leaks, stairs groan, ghost

Captain Gregg took a step forward. “Careful.”

Claymore swallowed. “The new owner arrives tomorrow.”

The Captain’s jaw tightened. “Who?”

“A woman,” Claymore said. “Mrs. Lucy Muir. A widow. She’s bringing her two children with her.”…

At that, something shifted—just slightly—in the Captain’s expression. Not softness, exactly, but interest unwillingly stirred.

“Children,” he repeated.

“Yes,” Claymore said quickly. “Quite young, I believe. And she seems… determined. Insisted on the place despite my warnings.”

“Warnings?” the Captain said dryly.

Claymore coughed. “Well, I may have mentioned the wind. And the isolation. And the general unsuitability for polite society.”

“And still she’s coming,” the Captain said.

“So it seems.”

Captain Gregg turned toward the window, gazing out at the restless sea. For a long moment, he said nothing. The wind rose, rattling the panes as if impatient for his judgment.

“At least,” he said at last, “she’ll have spirit if she’s chosen this place.”

Claymore brightened, sensing the danger ebb—slightly. “Oh yes. Quite a bit of it, I’d say.”

The Captain allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile. “Then we shall see,” he said. “Gull Lighthouse has a way of sorting out those who belong… and those who don’t.”

Claymore shivered, though the fire burned steadily.

Outside, the sea surged forward, as though eager for the arrival of its new keeper.