Hamilton Oneshots

Haunted Home // Kinglee

Bitterness.

That was the best word Samuel could come up with for the feeling he got the second he walked into the room. However, there was a small undertone he couldn't exactly put his finger on.

This home was said to be haunted. It was what caught Samuel's attention and interest.

"Hello?" Samuel called into the room as if whatever shared the presence would speak to him.

"Tell Lee," a monotonic, almost British sounding voice rang. Samuel was scared, yet interested even more. So the being wanted to contact him.

"Tell Lee? What?" Samuel asked, sitting on the lone couch.

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," the voice said. The room changed to a dramatic anger energy, warming the room up.

"Who is this from, so Lee doesn't think I hate them," Samuel asked, looking around.

"His George," the voice said. The anger boiled down a bit, letting a more melancholic energy enter. Samuel nodded with a small smile, hoping to cheer up the being in the room.

"Lee? Hello? Leeeee?" Samuel called through the home. The study door creaked, gaining his attention immediately.

"Lee?" he asked as he walked into the room. It was so much more somber and depressing than the other room. The bookshelves were cleared of any knowledge they once held, only to be covered with thick dust. The side that didn't hold a bookshelf had a desk and chair, both aged and perhaps too frail to be used at their original purpose. Samuel could see a rope tightly secured to a light fixture it was cut highly, but not at the top.

"Has George wanted to tell me anything? Please let me know he is alright now, I feel like I have been waiting a long time..." a lighter voice, filled with anxiety and worry said. It sounded like the speaker was spinning around Samuel, unlike George who seemed to fill the whole room and remain stagnant. How could Samuel just... say something so mean to the poor being?

"Well..." Samuel trailed off. He didn't want to lie, not at all.

"He's mad, isn't he? I never got to apologize... of course he's mad!" the voice was so quick to say. Samuel stepped back, a bit overwhelmed by the sound.

"Can I just talk to you? I haven't talked to anyone in years, and I can't leave this room to talk to George," the voice asked, seemingly stagnant now. Samuel stared at the area it came from with a small smile.

"Of course, what would you like to talk about?" Samuel asked.

"Wait, really?! Oh, I don't know now! Maybe I can talk about who I am, learn about the current world issues, figure out what has changed recently... There's so much!" the voice said. The room turned happier and Samuel smiled more at it.

"Let's start with small things, alright? I'm Samuel Seabury," Samuel said.

"Samuel Seabury? Like the town priest? Has it really not been long?" the voice asked.

"No... I'm not particularly a practicing religious person," Samuel said, crossing his legs as he sat on the floor.

"Oh, so it really has been a long time... I'm Charles Lee, I didn't really get a chance to make a name for myself because..." Charles went quiet and the happy energy quickly turned somber.

"The rope?" Samuel asked, glanced at the part hanging just out of his reach.

"Oh Lord, no, that's George's. I got shot. See the blood stain on the seat? That's why I can't leave," Charles said. Samuel turned his head to the chair. Sure enough, blood was darkly splatter across the back.