House of Ghosts

One

1972, October 11th

The house stood on a hill, it was tall, dark, and quiet. The sun was setting behind it, casting an eerie shadow on my future. This had to be a cruel joke, a mistake, a laugh between the gods. No, it's not a joke...it's my life. Every time I think life is finally producing something worthwhile it throws me this, an old house in the middle of nowhere.

"Casey! Casey! Are you paying attention?"

"Huh?" I turn and see my mother standing there, a box in her arms. She tilts her head to the car, which is still packed full with boxes, "Oh, yeah, sorry." I grab a box, not reading the label on the top, and follow her inside.

The entryway is large and gloomy, dust and cobwebs spread hide in every corner. Setting the box down, I cough as dust is kicked up. Just what I needed, to die from dust bunnies. A creaking sound pulls my attention to the elaborate staircase. An old woman hobbles down the stairs, her hair pulled up in a small, wavy bun pinned tight to her head.

"Martha, is that you?" She asks, squinting at me as she finally reaches the last step of the staircase.

"Oh, no, that would be me," My mother interjects, pulling the old woman's attention off me and holding out her hand to the old woman, "This would be my daughter Casey, and you must me Ms. Annette? I spoke to you on the phone yesterday?"

"Mm? Oh, yes, that was me." Annette smiles up at my mother, I resist a shiver and head back out to the car for more boxes. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just my mother and I getting to live in the old house, but apparently there are more renters? A shared home to cover the payments, or something like that. Gee, I can't wait to share my home with a bunch of strangers!

"Would you like some help?" I nearly jump out of my skin. Spinning around quickly, I come face to face with a guy around my age. He would look pretty decent if he hadn't nearly gave me a heart attack.

"No, thank you. I should be able to manage quite right on my own." I say, trying to stack a second box on the one I'm already holding. I'm in no mood to make friends, especially not with some stranger I have to share a home with for who knows how long.

"Alright, if you say so." he stands back and watches as I manage to toss the second box onto the other.

"I do say so." My arms wobble under the weight, but I ignore them and begin the trek back into the house.

"I'm Carter." He says like I care.

"Casey." I continue towards the house and he follows me like some lost dog. Once I'm inside I notice that my mother has disappeared along with the old woman. Probably has to fill out some paperwork or something; I set both boxes down without Carter's help.

"I'm assuming you're the new people moving into room two-eighty three?" Two-eighty three? How many rooms are in this old house? He laughs, catching my attention, "There's not that many rooms, and before you ask, everyone asks that question."

So now he can read my mind? I hate it here. "I wasn't going to ask that."

"Sure," He chuckles and follows me back outside, "I'm not really sure why the rooms are labeled like that. It doesn't really make sense when there's only a couple of rooms. Half the building is just shared rooms, like sitting rooms and living rooms. Couple of bathrooms too, but some of the bedrooms have connecting bathro-"

"You sure do talk a lot," I cut him off, "Where's your family anyway? You don't live here alone, do you? You really don't look much older than sixteen."

"I'm seventeen." He says without much expression. Maybe he's used to being cut off. I wouldn't be surprised if his mother constantly cut off his unnecessary commentary. Hah, and to think that women are said to be the ones who never stop speaking!