Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
suck: (verb) 1. draw into the mouth by contracting the muscles of the lips and mouth to make a partial vacuum.
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Ash is convinced the manor is haunted, the day he saw something strange outside and he came running in, trying to find the box full of personal items from the family who previously lived here.
His words were so jumbled and barely audible but I picked up on the odd word. He pointed to the family picture from the eighteen hundreds, the little boy called William who looked like a bakerboy, wearing the hat and smart waistcoat.
Ash was adamant that he saw the little boy outside between the grass.
I don't believe in ghosts and spirits and all that nonsense. It doesn't make sense to me that some people can see certain things and others can't and why are they always bad? Is there ever such a thing as good ghosts?
Why have they always got to be throwing shit around for and haunting people?
You never hear nice stories of people seeing their dead grandparents, paying them a loving visit, checking it. It's always the extreme demon or poltergeist route.
And I've never seen anything in my short existence... So to me, it's hard to believe.
But watching Ash almost have a heart attack at the thought of seeing a ghost, it makes me feel slightly on edge. Then I remember that the manor is old and has a strange vibe about it but that's because it's been abandoned and I need to get my act together.
Ash probably saw what he wanted to see, he's been sketching out about this place since we started placement weeks ago. I'm not surprised if his brain imagined something to trick him into believing his suspicions and now he has no idea if what he saw is real or if he's going insane.
I say the latter but I try to be reasonable whilst he's freaking out.
By Thursday he's got progressively worse, every sound or the sight of his own shadow has him jumping. I'm sure in his mind he's going absolutely batshit crazy but nothing I say coaxes him through his thoughts.
I drop a chair onto its legs on the wooden floor and I look across the room at Ash, his shoulders jolt upwards and he becomes startled. Glancing over his shoulder at the sudden sound, I exhale a long breath and walk towards him.
My hand reaches out and I grip his shoulder. "Ash," I mumble and glance into his weary green eyes. "You need to chill out."
"I have this weird, strange feeling," his throat clenches and he avoids looking directly in my eyes. "Honestly, it's like a cold chill."
Ash chews down on his lip and then shudders, hard. Like something brushed over his skin and I frown, giving his shoulders a light squeeze.
"Don't you feel it?" He slowly draws his gaze up to mine and I can see genuine fear behind his stare.
