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The ghost of your past has always haunted you.
Well, to be more specific, you were the ghost of the past.
Floating oh-so innocently around your recently renovated apartment, you couldn't help but be bored within the afterlife your spirit was subjected to. Unfinished business? Some lifetime regret? It's been so long since the day of your unfortunate death, you can't remember any of those things that could possibly help you finally rest in peace.
Sure, scaring the new residents here and there was entertaining and all, but in the end, all you wanted to do was finally move on into the real afterlife. Maybe you'll get to be reincarnated as a rock! Or even a cat if you were lucky.
But today was the day a new resident was moving into the apartment. Despite the chaos and fear you've managed to conjure up around the building, you were surprised to hear that there were still people who would buy the house.
Ignorance or bravery, you really couldn't tell.
The last resident you had was a young woman in her twenties, and you even had the luxury to try on her many glittery dresses she hung neatly in her closet. Truth be told, you would've kept her to stay in the apartment, but her awful habits of bringing in new men every week was a disturbance to your much needed sanity.
Safe to say, she barely had the time to pack her things before screaming out of the building.
Either way, you thought that the new resident would be much easier to scare; a presumed 17-year-old teenage male was going to live independently within the apartment. It was a surprise to see such a young child moving in to somewhere on their own, but you assumed it was simply the tradition of this generation.
Maybe I'll make it less...scarier this time. You thought with a hum, sipping on your ghostly tea as you leaned against the sofa. He's a kid anyway. Don't want a youngster to get a heart attack...again.
+++++++++++++++
Moving out of his home was not what he had intended.
It was at the spur of the moment decision, and Scaramouche simply couldn't take his mother's oppressive nature within the house anymore. She was always complaining about him living under her roof, so why not just live under a roof of his own?
Of course, this wasn't the realistic of ideas, but he was fortunate enough to come across an extremely, and suspiciously, cheap apartment that he could buy and stay in until he was able to decide on what to do in the future.
He hesitantly inserted the key to his apartment room, nervously adjusting the strap of his only bag filled with his belongings he had packed in a hurry. Turning the object over, the silent click of the lock being undone resonated within the empty stairway. Scaramouche finally turned over the handle soon after, slowly opening the door and peaking inside.
