I looked up at the old Victorian house amazed. It looked like a castle. For once I felt excited to have moved.
That was until I started at my new school.
It seemed like every time I was asked to introduce myself to the class the kids were murmuring about something to do with the house. My house. The day crept by; I never felt so isolated before. No one would talk to me even if I tried to start a conversation.
Finally in Seventh period three girls approached me.
“Is your house really haunted?” One of the girls I could only describe as preppie questioned.
What were they talking about? How could a house be haunted? I don’t even believe in ghost or spirits or whatever they’re called.
“Yeah.” I blurt out. My answer surprised me. I hadn’t met to say that. Why did I lie?
The three girls seemed to perk up at my answer.
“Oh my god its true.” Another one of the preps screeches.
The whole class turns to look in my direction. My face turned red.
By the time school ended people were stopping me in the hall asking me about the house. I didn’t know if I preferred to be out casted or lie to people to get their attention.
That night as I sat in bed reading I started to hear voices. My mom and dad went to bed long ago so it couldn’t be them.
It has to be my imagination. I told myself.
Over the next week my lie got worse.
It started as ‘yea I hear voices all the time’ and somehow developed into ‘stuff flies across my room as if it’s been thrown’ then that turned into ‘I saw an apparition of a little girl in the hallway yesterday’.
With each lie things in the house got worse. The voices turned into flying objects to seeing humanoid figures out of the corner of her eye. My lie was literally haunting me.
‘I have to tell the truth.’ I decided. But would that make the haunting go away. What if my house is really haunted? There’s only one way to find out.
Tomorrow I would tell the truth.
