Tuesday passes, Wednesday comes, and with it all of my things. I spend my day organizing, unpacking, deciding, debating...working my mind and body harder than ever so that this home feels more like my own.
I couldn't even bring myself to cook my own dinner, read "Moby Dick" before bed...or even check my email before I went upstairs to have my first long-awaited rest on my full-size bed.
Before I knew it, I found myself fast asleep, without having pulled my covers over myself or even having changed into my pajamas.
I don't recall if I dreamt or not...but I distinctly remember that sound.
The echoey rustling of papers from somewhere within my house.
Assuming robbery, I quietly rose from my bed, grabbing "Moby Dick" from my bedside table.
I tiptoe down the stairs towards the source of the sound, rounding the corner into the kitchen only to see a young man standing over the kitchen table. Something wasn't right about him, but I wasn't about to let that stop me from getting him out of my house. I snuck over to him and rose my arms, preparing myself to hit him over the head with my book, when he suddenly turned around to look at me.
He gasped and jumped, and on reflex, I let out a shriek, swiftly striking him over the head with "Moby Dick".
Or...intending to strike him. My hands passed right through him. It was like everything stopped around me.
I could only assume that I was dreaming...I mean, there's no way ghosts are truly real...right?
He relaxed his shoulders and inched closer to me.
"S-Sorry about that, Miss..." He said, an otherwordly echo drifting from his lips.
I was in shock.
"Am...Am I dreaming...?" I manage to whisper, half to myself.
"No, I'm afraid you're not," He responds, "Don't worry, I don't mean any harm...even though I'm technically a poltergeist and all...er-sorry, where are my manners!?"
He extended his pale, semi-transparent hand to me.
"My name is Kouta," He told me, "I...used to live here. I guess we're roommates now...?" He let out a nervous giggle following his last words as I slowly processed this reality.
I took his cold, ghostly hand and shook it. "[Y/N]..." I said, trying to simply continue this conversation until I could properly take the fact that 1. Ghosts are real, 2. My house is haunted and, 3. I now have a poltergeist roommate who is the spirit of a deceased young man who owned the house before me.
He gave me a comforting, kind smile. "It's nice to meet you, [Y/N]," He said, probably trying to calm me and make things easier to process.
I gathered my courage as my eyes met his, his slightly sunken, dark globes emanating the same aura of loneliness I found lingering around the house. I suppose it makes sense a house like this belonged to someone like him.
I adjusted my glasses and cleared my throat.
"Pleased to meet you, too, Kouta..." I say, trailing off to try and find a way to transition to my many questions for him without being too rude.
He tilted his head ever so slightly.
"...I'd assume you're curious about me?" He asked softly, as if he somehow read my mind.
I nod, and he chuckles to himself cutely, smiling at me with the purest smile a ghost could have.
"I get it. Ask away, [Y/N]."
YOU ARE READING
Fatally Sweet-A Paranormal Romance
RomanceYou move into a new house for surprisingly cheap. It looks very nice, though you keep hearing your friends say that the place is haunted, that a college boy died there, presumably having been murdered; but you're not one for superstitions. Well, you...
