Eddsworld Oneshots

The Medium

Phantom AU

Gore Warning.

Not even joking it's been week since I bought my new house and honest to god I'm still surprised I could even afford it. It was a big house, Victorian style, and I had just received a call saying the movers were finished with bringing all my personal items over.

It's been a long while since I've been home. My entire team of forensic specialists and fellow detectives were stumped with the current murder case. I had stayed behind at the precinct with my deceased partner to hopefully make progress, but it didn't help the victim knew absolutely nothing. If it wasn't already obvious, I can see dead people, spirits, and I can interact with them unlike everyone else I work with. Eventually, after a whole day of research and looking over random documents, Jon and I cracked the case and we were free to leave for the weekend.

I stopped at the street corner, in the cold. The strap of my heavy messenger bag digging into my shoulder. Snow and wind whipped my dark greasy brown hair and the neon yellow 'bus stop' sign rattled back and forth on its screws.

Eager to get out of the frigid weather, I checked my silver Timex and adjusted the worn, brown-leather strap. It was a cheap model but it did its job nicely.

Snowflakes attached themselves to the glass face, their intricate pattern revealed briefly before melting into a tiny puddle.

My gaze lifted to the street in front of me. A small two-lane road lined with ice coated cars and tall grey-scale buildings. Just then, the old, red double decker I had been waiting for pulled around the corner and stopped at the sign above me.

It's glass doors parted, granting me access.

A good 45 minutes passed until the vehicle came to rest in front of my house. It was an older building with faded brick walls and a concrete foundation.

The large, double, solid wood doors were cedar painted black. It was a spooky looking house, but I knew it just needed someone to liven it up. I hopped off the public bus and climbed the grand slate stairs.

According to the previous owners, the house was strange.

Upon entry, I didn't bother to remove my soaked dress shoes, I just wiped my feet on the welcome mat and carried on down the corridor to the kitchen. Ringo the grey tabby came bouncing after me, singing and calling to me sweetly. Exhausted from work, I threw my bag onto the round small table stationed dead center of the old linoleum floor. After that, I trudged off to the fridge, hoping to prepare a decent meal of some sort because there was no way I was eating Ramen again.

The cat jumped up onto the table and stuck his head in my book bag before flopping over on top of it. Her little paws kneading the fabric.

I dug through the various stacks of takeout Chinese boxes, even accidentally spilling some sauce on the cuff of my nice blazer. I came across a single can of cola and resisted the urge to drink it considering it was the only one I had left before my weekly market run.

Today was Friday. Tomorrow I'd be sleeping in for once, which was a pleasure I rarely enjoyed. All my co-workers think I'm crazy when I pull all-nighters, but I let them think what they want because if it weren't for me, we would not get anywhere.

All of a sudden the sound of books hitting the floor filled the atmosphere and Ringo hissed angrily before darting past my feet.

I closed the fridge and calmly pivoted around only to see a dark figure looming over my brown messenger bag. On the floor was my Manila folder containing the autopsy files. The shadow before me was that of a man, an angry one. His golden hair was combed forward into two spikes and a cowlick stood proudly from his parting.