Ghost•l.h.

the hemmings estate

After thanking Calum for the ride home, I walked inside, the smell of dinner engulfing me.

"Hey Victoria, I'm home," I called out.

"Dinner's about to be ready!" She called back, and I followed the scent into the kitchen. She was making spaghetti, something I haven't had for a long time.

"Mm that smells heavenly, thank you." I said, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge as she gave me a strange look.

"Why are you being so nice? Did someone meet a guy?" My aunt winked and I nearly spit out my water. I instantly thought about Luke and I shook my head. Jesus Christ, I've only known this guy for 10 minutes and he's already made such an impression on me.

"Calum? Noooo," I scoffed, "He's a great guy, just not my type."

"So what is your type?" She asked, and an image of Luke popped into my head once more. I held back an annoyed groan.

"Are we really talking about this?" I asked, helping her set up the dinner table.

"If you want," she shrugged, scooping some of the pasta onto the plate.

It was foreign to me, to have someone feed me and want to talk to me. Of course, Victoria will never be my mother. She's too young and carefree. She won't even ever be an authority figure over me, and I think she's starting to realize that. But I guess if she wants to try being my friend, then I'm willing to see how things go.

Dinner was full of awkward silences and limited small talk. After we both finished eating, I washed my own plate and ascended the stairs to my room, which wasn't fully unpacked yet. It was nice, and I had a nice queen sized bed all to myself. Kind of lonely, though. I never slept in the middle; even as a child, I would always sleep on the left side, on my side. Therefore there was always a space next to me, begging to be filled.

My bedroom actually had a huge balcony on the outside, and it overlooked the small city. You could see the flashing of the traffic lights and the few cars that were still driving around. The moon was nearly completely full, and it seemed to be hovering right over our house.

I changed into my pajamas, grabbing my laptop and hoping into bed. It was getting late but I couldn't bring myself to attempt sleeping. Turning on some music, I hummed along quietly to myself, thinking back to earlier events.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, not exactly sure what to type in.

Haunted house in Reapings, Maine.

I felt like a complete idiot, but I hit the enter button. Of course, there were a lot of irrelevant sources, but there was one source that stuck out to me the most. It had a picture of the house I couldn't get out of my head, but from back then in its prime.

I was right; the estate was gorgeous, and the land around it seemed to thrive with life. Now, it looked barren and dead.

I scrolled down to start reading the history.

The Hemmings Estate.

My stomach dropped through the floor. Hemmings as in Lucas? Why didn't he tell me the place belonged to his ancestors?

Established in 1803. Before it got its reputation, it was a very lovely place, that had a beautiful family of six to accompany the house. The Hemmings were the most respected family in the town of Reapings, Maine, and despite its low population today, it thrived back in the early 1800s. However, mistakes were made and caused the family to come apart. Mr. Hemmings was having an affair with the African American slave that resided with them. After Mrs. Hemmings, who also suffered from a mental illness, found out the news, she killed all three of her sons to get revenge on her husband. Mr. Hemmings moved out of the town along with his new lover, leaving Mrs. Hemmings with their fortune and estate, where she successfully hung herself from the roof.

I shivered, having an internal debate on whether or not I should keep reading. That explains the slashes in the pictures I found on the walls. I felt both disgust and sympathy for Mrs. Hemmings, and I couldn't bring myself to chose which one I felt stronger.

I forced my eyes back onto the screen.

Today, there are no known living members of the Hemmings family. Because of the suicide of Mrs. Hemmings and murder of her three children, ages 10, 14, and 21, it is believed that their spirits are trapped in the house, waiting for the day for her husband/their father to come home.

I swallowed hard as I read over the first line again. If there was no known living members, who is Luke? Does it just happen he had the same last name?

I tried looking for pictures of the entire family, but there was only a portrait that portrayed Mr. and Mrs. Hemmings, happily smiling at one another. How ironic. It terrified me to know that things aren't the way they seem to be at all.

Strangely, there were no pictures or names of the boys that were murdered as well. I went onto the other websites, but it had even less information than the first. After an hour or so of doing research, I shut down my laptop, putting it away.

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling strangely drained. The scariest part about all this, though, was my urge to go back to the house. Ever since I left, I've been on edge, like a magnet that's so desperately trying to connect with its other half.

Millions of questions bounced around in my head, and I huffed in annoyance, lying down on my back and staring up at the ceiling. Every nerve in my body wanted to go back there, but my mind was screaming no, stay away.

Ghosts or not, there was something wrong with that house, and the mysterious man I met today had to do something with it. I felt my eyes getting heavy, as I started drifting off to sleep. One final thought popped into my head before I became completely unconscious, and it scared the living hell out of me.

There's no turning back now.

Lol hi peoples. Since I have pre written some chapters I will continue posting. But yeah this story might never be finished, I'm not sure yet. Next week is exam week and then my break! So maybe I'll get some writing done then. Thanks for the support.