Hatchetfield.

The New Hachetfield High

The time was 9:01pm.

Steph had texted Max around fifteen minutes ago, saying there was a party at the Old Waylon Place.

He had never seen the house up close before, only passing it a few times, but he's always wanted to check it out. The ghost stories always intrigued him, even if ghosts and other shit like that freaked him out. He'd probably piss his pants if he ever saw a ghost in real life.

He knew ghosts were real, even if everyone else said they were fake, but he just had this feeling.

Max stormed into the lobby of the old towering house. "Steph?" He yelled out before throwing out a big burp. "Nice."

He walked up to the next floor, "Kyle? Brenda?" He looked around, he wondred if they were throwing a surprise scare party or something like that, "If you're gonna scare me do it al-fucking-ready I gotta piss!" There wasn't even a sign of anyone in the damn house and Max couldn't leave if he wanted to considering how eager his dad was to get him out.

Just as he was about to go back down the stairs a strong whooshing sound and spooky music came out of nowhere. "Woah, creepy music. Now get the fuck out of where ever you are! I know you're here dumbasses!"

"Maaaaax Jagerrrmaaaannnnnnnn....." Max whipped around to the set of stairs going up to the next floor and almost pissed his pants in that exact moment.

On the stairs stood a tall lanky ghost, dressed in a white tophat and something that looked similar to what everyone wore in Hamilton. There was light green lighting surrounding him and Max couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Max backed up and pulled the beers closer to him and his chest as the ghost continued speaking, "Yoouuuuu haavvveeeee distuuurrrrbbedd the ghoooooosstttsss of Waaayyyylooonn Plaacceeeee."

"Oh shit! It's a fucking ghost!" Max knew his voice was shaking but he didn't care. This was a ghost. A real life fucking ghost. "I always knew you fuckers were real! I've been scared of you my whole life!" Max may or may not have started crying at this point, but if you asked him it would be a punch to the face and a loud 'NO!'.

Max wanted to run. He wanted to get the fuck out of here. He always hated the undead. They're dead for a reason, so they should stay dead. If he died then he wouldn't come back as a ghost. That's just stupid.

Max stood up straight and puffed his chest. "No. I refuse to run." He turned back to the ghost and chugged the rest of his beer before crushing it on his head and throwing it somewhere, "Float over here ghost! I'm gonna kick your fucking ass!"

He threw up his fists and ran towards the ghost. Seconds before he reached the ghost it disappeared into thin air. Max stared at his fists and the ground where the ghost was before turning around and yelling out to the empty house, "YEESSS!!! I MAKE THE DEAD RUN IN FEAR!" I AM JAGERMAN!! I AM GOD!!"

Max jumped up and down on the step he was on until a rattling noise came from somewhere else. He froze in spot and stared at where the sound came from, he could feel more fear creeping up from behind him.

Out of the dark a skeleton ran into the room, running around in circles before coming to a stop just far enough for Max to be able to safely get away.

Max started to feel lightheaded, "Oh shit, oh fuck!". Maybe he had drunk too much, maybe this house was really truly haunted, maybe he needed to pee and his mind was making him see things to get him to piss himself. Whatever it was, he wanted nothing to do with it, "I didn't think there'd be a skele'on here! I'm so fucking scared of skele'ons!" He was definitely crying now. He ran down the stairs and stopped at the staircase down to the first floor.