HAUNTED : : 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 | 𖥸

A FRESH START : : 1:1

THE HOUSE ON FLEUR LANE.
It has been rumored to be haunted by the last tenant. They say he was born from the corpse of a gibbeted mother, where he was left to die alone in a mire of blood and afterbirth. But thank the gods, yet disgrace the devil himself, a group of petty thieves mixed in with mercenaries. A man named Gambino leading the band happened to stumble upon the brutal scene but deduced that the infant was deceased. But by surprise when the baby began to beg for aid. [ WAIL / CRY ]

''Griffith, turn off the computer,'' my mother called out, to me, ''We have a big day tomorrow,'' she followed behind that sentence. I looked at the door, which was slightly opened; the miniature pieces of light seeping through my bedroom. "Okay" I replied, shutting off the monitor. My feet touched the cold wooden floor, which caused me to walk on my tippy –toes. Eventually reaching my bed, I grabbed the white comforter, and dug my head deep into my pillow; The House on Fleur Lane.

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It was an unsettling morning; usually the atmosphere would be more, brighter and maybe more lovely. My mother folded clothes into a nearby box that almost busted from how full it was. She folded her hands, looked sore, and she looked tired. Father was packing dishes and we had plenty; he was probably tired as well. And my sister was packing her clothes, and sheets, so I don't think she's available right now. "Griffith" she called, "Yes mom?" I turned facing towards her. But she didn't look like herself; her face was disoriented and gooey, liquidity.

I stared in utter disgust; this was probably a nightmare; I always have these. I'm okay. "Come here Griffith" she called to me, "Okay" I replied; I will wake up when I touch her. I tip – toed towards her, the cold floor. I've always hated it. It hated me too. In front of my mother as I hovered above her, "When do you want to cut your hair? It's too long, makes you look like a girl" the thing frowned at me; I sighed "I don't want too I like my hair. .mom" she placed her chilled hands on my cheek, caressing it slowly. "Okay" she Smiled wholeheartedly; I placed my hand on her cheek, which looked gigantic with my small hands in comparison.

And then, a cascade of darkness surrounding my vision; the feeling of me falling within this nightmare still followed me in my actual reality. My door was wide open. I glanced around my room, my sister peering inside, staring at me. "What?" , "You look stupid, did you see a ghost?", "Good morning too you to" Sometimes I think my sister doesn't like me, especially since she's first born and I was unexpected. But actions speak louder than words. "Mom wants us in the car", " But — " she cut me off.

"She doesn't care, there's something on the table for you though. "

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The car ride was dead silent, as my father turned the steering wheel and my sister was sleeping silently and my mother staring at my father and the way he turned and twisted. Eventually we did reach the house, and for a haunted house it didn't look so bad. The paint was peeling off and next to a large green tree there was a boy standing on the dark greenish- green lawn he had on a gray tattered shirt, covered with dirt; his pants, knees, hands, face, were covered. He stared at me with a look in his eyes, but I know I'm too young to understand what the look meant and or my cerebral capacity doesn't want to tell me or go up a few.

I tugged at my mom's shirt, "Mom, there's someone on the lawn" I pointed at the boy. She turned her head and the boy was gone "Griffith There's no one on the lawn" she huffed. "Griffith is going crazy mom" My sister chimed in, "Shut up" I rolled my eyes, "You're going insane" She teased, "Stop teasing your brother and go help dad" My mother exclaimed.

"Don't listen to your sister, but what you saw was probably a part of your imagination "she kneeled down and put her warm hands on my cheek. "I can remember everything about the boy it wasn't apart of my imagination!" Acting like he wasn't doesn't bother me, but getting others to believe him is annoying. "It's apart of your imagination of course you can". " But I wasn't "she looked at me for a second, " Come on and help me put this up okay? I'll get you medication later". She thinks I'm going crazy isn't she.

"Mom Are you really going to blame Griffith's craziness on his asthma? I mean he's always been a little weirdo, Seriously hes not normal he's a Psychopath" she folded her arms and Scoffed, "he's always been this way anyway".

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