Heather's One-Chapter Bits

Home Is Where the Chill Is

The house creaked and moaned in the wind. Early morning sunlight filtered through the clouded windows, tinted blue by the sheets of white snow outside. The house was cold, and empty...

The crunch of gravel signaled the approach of a car. A door slammed; heavy footsteps sounded up the walk and stomped on the steps leading to the front door. A key slid into the ancient lock. The doorknob turned and the old wooden door creaked open.

A man stepped inside, shaking the snow off his boots and beginning to unzip his heavy winter coat. He flipped on the lights.

A moan sounded through the house. The lights flickered, sending strange shadows dancing across the hall. At the very top of the stairs, an image blurred, gently glowing on the dim second floor landing. A teenage boy was visible in the shifting shape.

"No one may enter this house," a voice hissed. It twirled around the man at the front door. "Get out..."

The man sighed and flipped the hood off his head. "Chill, Cayden. It's just me."

The lights turned back on and the house settled. The image at the top of the stairs disappeared and suddenly, the boy was in front of the man.

"Sorry, Dave," he said. His voice danced lightly in the air. "It's been so long, I thought for sure someone had bought the house."

Dave laughed and took off his boots, leaving them by the door. "You know usually nobody buys from my real estate company. You also know this house is in the middle of nowhere."

Cayden flickered and followed Dave to the kitchen. "Wait, usually? Have you sold it?"

"Obviously not, idiot." He pulled off his coat and shivered. "It's just as cold in here as outside, dude. Turn the heat on sometimes. I don't pay for electricity for nothing."

The ghost shrugged. "I don't feel it."

"Of course," Dave said, rolling his eyes. "I expect everything's the same here?"

"Always," Cayden nodded. "There were a few stupid teenagers a few months ago, but they were dealt with quickly enough."

"Cayden?"

"Yes, Dave?"

"You're a teenager." Dave leaned back on the sofa.

Cayden raised an eyebrow. "I'm twice your age."

Dave nodded thoughtfully. "Yes," he admitted, "but you still act like a boy. I expect you had some fun with those kids before they were 'dealt with?'"

He scoffed. "No." Dave shot him a look. "Maybe."

"I thought so," the real estate agent smiled.

"It's not my fault." Cayden accused. "I have nothing to do around here. Ever since you brought me here I've been alone. When are you going to find someone to dump in here with me?"

Dave shook his head. "I thought you liked it here. As I recall, you told me to 'bring me anywhere, as long as I get out of the city.'" He saw Cayden's raised eyebrow and shrugged. "I had lots of old houses, and not enough ghosts to fill them. The past twenty years or so, the trend is haunting the city, not old country houses."

"You didn't answer my question," Cayden said. "I want to know when I can get some company out here."

Dave blinked and smirked. "Seventeen. Such a difficult age to die. Makes for terribly impatient ghosts."

"Dave," the ghost growled, flickering like a strobe light.

"She's in the car," Dave relented, jerking his thumb towards the door.

Cayden's eyes lit up, even more than usual. He disappeared and reappeared at the door. "How long has she been dead? How old was she when she died? How did she die? Why didn't she come in with you?"

"Easy, now, tiger," Dave chuckled. "She's not coming out until her room is ready."

Cayden lifted an eyebrow. "Really?"

Dave shrugged. "She's still trying to hold onto life." He started up the stairs.

Cayden appeared at the top of the stairs. "So which room are you giving her?"

"Since you don't have any room in particular," he answered, "I gave her the master bedroom."

The ghost disappeared. Dave started down the hall and found him in the room, flinging debris out the window and desperately dusting.

"Excited much?" Dave asked.

"You try being on your own in the middle of nowhere for twenty years," the boy answered. "I. Need. Company."

"I don't count?" Dave said, picking up a broom and starting to sweep.

Cayden looked at Dave like he was crazy. "Of course not."

Finally, the room was satisfactory. "Now?" Cayden asked excitedly.

Dave started pulling on his boots again. "I think it would be best for you to wait here. I'll get her."

"Why?" Cayden asked, slightly hurt.

Dave opened the door. "She's... difficult."

Cayden paced the front hall anxiously. Besides the real estate agent, he'd had no contact with anybody since the city. He shuddered. The city was terrible. Too many ghosts packed into too little space, surrounded by living men and women who not only couldn't see them, but also didn't care.

This house was better. Dave really did a good job matching ghosts who needed a place to crash with old houses no living person wanted. Cayden loved this place, no matter how much he complained to Dave about it.

The footsteps sounded outside on the walkway again, still one set of steps. The door inched open.

"Ready, Hayley?" Dave's voice said from the other side of the aged wood. And then the door was open, and a girl followed the big living man inside.

She cast a quick glance around the room, lifting her head to see the cracks in the ceiling and craning her neck to see the cobwebs in the corner. Her dark hair fell in tight braids halfway down her back, and her eyes were glowing gold.

Cayden straightened. She looked about sixteen or seventeen, the same age he'd been when he'd died. The way she moved, though, clumsily and with uncertainty, made it seem like she'd only been dead for a short time.

He stuck out a hand, glad that the dead didn't sweat. "Hello, Hayley. I'm Cayden."

Her gaze snapped to him, holding his eyes. She hesitantly put her hand in his. "Good to meet you."

Dave finished with his ritual of pulling layers off. "Cayden's been dead for a while, Hayley," he said, noticing she flinched at the word 'dead.' "He can help you adjust. And this old house is in the perfect location for you- hours outside the city."

"Thanks Dave," she said. "I- I think I just want to settle in. Where's my room?"

"Up the stairs and all the way to the right," he answered. He watched her climb the stairs and held out a hand to Cayden, signaling the boy not to follow.

As soon as she was out of earshot, he relaxed. "She's not completely come to terms with her death. It was rather traumatic."

"How'd she die," Cayden said in a low voice.

"Shot. Watched her whole family mowed down, one after the other, until the killer found her hiding on a shelf in the closet." Dave ran a hand through his hair and signed. "Is it okay if I come back in a week or so?"

"Yeah, no problem," Cayden said. His gaze was unfocused, like he was deep in thought.

"Not what you expected, huh?" Dave smiled.

Cayden sent a small smile back. "Not quite."

Dave blinked and turned towards the door. "Good luck. You'll need it."

The house seemed to lose its life as soon as the door turned behind him. The lights dimmed and died. The floorboards stopped creaking and shifting. The only noise was the wind whistling through the drafts in the walls. Cayden looked up at the stairs, sighed, and faded away deeper into the house.