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richie didn't want to be dramatic, but he really didn't want to move into this fucking house. he'd rather die.
neibolt is what the other children called it. a creepy, dark, mucky, shitty house that was like count olaf's house in a series of unfortuant events. it covered over derry like a dark, thundering storm and richie certainly did not have an umbrella.
"richie, help your mother please," richie scowled, squinting and looking up at the ugly house. he nudged up his glasses and reluctantly grabbed a box marked in chicken feet writing 'richie's room' writen by yours truly.
"this place is a shit show," richie admitted without remorse, shifting the heavy box's weight in his arms in hopes of balancing out the pain that ran up his arms. maggie, richie's mother, sighed, blowing away a strand of hair that fell out of her bun.
"richie, i told you that this is-"
"blah, blah, blah. it's only temporary, richie," richie mocked childishly. he rolled his eyes. god, if only he hadn't heard that a million times before.
"richie, don't be rude to your mother," wentworth, richie's dad, sighed through his nose as he slammed the moving truck's door closed. "we're just going through a rough patch right now. and, hey, if you make new friends, you probably won't even be inside half the time."
richie sighed. he wasn't all too good at making friends. in fact, he was shit at it. he wore ugly hawaiian shirts that made him look like an overweight dad on a family vacation with his two kids and mediocre wife named either helen or donna. he also had crooked teeth and huge glasses to frame them even better. his face away always in a squint like expression and everyone made sure to steer clear of him. and his stupid 'your mom' jokes.
he walked up the porch steps, wincing as the old and grimy wood creaked underfoot, threatening to give out at any moment.
"fuck," he cursed softly under his breath. "this place is fucking haunted."
sure, richie had seen the place in photos, not real life. he could run his fingers over the rotten wood and rusted metal. he could inhale the oh so wonderful scent of rat feces that littered around the once abandoned house. he couldn't taste the sourness of the air floating around the house like a poisoness gas.
a fixer upper, his dad called it.
"this looks like satan's ass hole," richie muttered to himself, shifting the box to push up his glasses that had slipped down to the edge of his nose.
richie walked up to his room - the first door on the left - and opened the door. the gray, maybe once white, door creaked open in a dramatic fashion revealing the ugliest room he had ever seen.
the moving people had set his mattress up in the middle of the room, pressed agaisnt the far wall near a window that - actually, it was spotless. the room was ugly, of course, but it was clean. there was no thick layer of spiderweb, nor odd stench in the air that made richie was to shoot a bullet through his nose and never smell again.
richie hesitantly put his box of belongings on the floor, falling back on the bed. the cheap springs in the bed didn't shoot him up as much as he wanted them to, so he just laid there, staring at the popcorn ceiling.
just one disappointment after another, he thought bitterly to himself.
he desiced to start unpacking his belongings which meant shoving his clothes messily into an old dresser that didn't belong to the tozier family and kinda making his bed. at least he placed the sheet on his mattress.
suddenly, seemingly out of no where, the creaky door slammed shut causing richie to drop his pillow. his eyes widened increasingly, watching the door with disbelief. he licked his dry lips and forced himself to swallow. he faintly heard manically laughter.
"mom?" richie called out, his voice momentarily wavering in fear. he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans, getting up. his steps were slow and his breathing was raged like an animal taken to slaughter. scared yet blissfully unaware at the same time.
his hand slowly stretched out for the doorknob, wanting to grab it and twist it as he had done countless other times before but it deemed quite the feat as he wasn't able to convince himself to do so.
fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck...
richie finally reached for it and swung the door open, eyes screwed shut tightly without any possible images of ghosts or ghouls being able to slip into his eyes. when he realized nothing bad had happened to him, he peeked an eye open. he sighed in relief.
"thank fuck."
richie raced downstairs, looking for his parents. his eyes widened in disbelief when he saw the two outside, bickering at one another like children.
he ran a hand through his messy hair, feeling the sweat starting to form on his hairline. probably just the wind, he thought to himself.
he swallowed thickly, not wanting to up to his room where a gh - the wind! the wind slammed his door shut and gave him the chills. managing to face his fears, his sneaker clad feet pressed onto the rotting wood steps, cringing every time they creaked under his feet.
he pulled himself together enough to walk into the main hallway, glancing at his now closed door with wary eyes. i don't recall closing the door behind me, richie tried to ignore the voice at the back of his head like an annoying gnat. yet, he heard it loud and clear.
much to his despair, and to be honest, curiosity, he heard a soft voice grumbling under its breath as richie's trembling hand hovered over his doorknob. in an effort not to startle the ghost, yeah, it was probably some freaky ghost like in ghostbusters. all gross and slimy, touching all his things. hopefully not his comics.
he heard a page flip.
shit, it was touching his comics.
richie burst into the room, abandoning the whole take it slow plan. " i've seen ghostbusters, you fucker!"
much to his surprise, he didn't come face to face with some gross demon who was chewing up on all his x-men comics, but a boy - a very pale boy, but a boy nonetheless - who looked very intrigued by the pretty colours and ambiguous designs only to look up with big doe eyes and gasp, disappearing in a blink of an eye.
richie gaped, watching the comic collapse to the ground. richie's brown eyes darted around the room frantically for any sign of the pale boy only to find none. he slowly sat down on the bed, not really believing his eyes.
his eyes raked over his wardrobe only to find it clean without any sleeves poking out. his brows furrowed curiously before opening a drawer. his clothes were folded neatly and looked... organized. something richie would never do.
richie slammed the drawer shut, grasping onto his hair and giving it a slight tug to ensure he was actually awake and not having some weird dream.
"i'm being haunted by a dead cleaning lady and an extremely pale boy," he whispered softly under his breath. he paused before raising his cupped hands to his lips to amplify his already obnoxiously loud voice.
