Writing Prompt challenge

stay out of my kitchen!

He turned on the shower again to risen out the shampoo he had previously messages onto his hair and hummed in satisfaction when the hot water hit his body. For once he was able to take his time and enjoy the shower since it was weekend and he didn’t have to rush in order to make it to work in time. He sighed as he let all his tiredness be washed away by the flow of the water, clearly in need of some time to relax. His week had been way too stressful at work since way too many people wanted him to do random stuff for them and he just couldn’t say no. He wished he could, it would make his life a lot easier but somehow, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t give in, he did in the end.
On top of that he actually almost managed to burn down the kitchen yesterday while cooking dinner which he hadn’t been able to eat in the end anyways since it was burned but he had been too tired for his mind to work properly.
His grumbling stomach slightly pulled him out of his thoughts again and he turned off the shower, not really feeling like making himself something to eat but he had to do it eventually since he ended up skipping dinner last night completely. He opened the door and grabbed a towel, hand drying his hair with it slightly before wrapping it around his torso. Then he walked over to the sink, propping himself onto it and looked up into the foggy mirror.
He halted before stepping back, gulping slightly. There on the mirror was something written in the fog. He looked around carefully but no one was there and the door remained closed. He would've noticed it when someone walked in while he was in the shower, wouldn't he? A shiver ran down his spine and he pulled his shoulders up in malaise slightly brushing over his arms before starting to read the message that already faded slowly.
“I’m so fucking tired of you ruining my kitchen. Honestly you’re the worst cook I’ve ever seen and even though I’ve been trying to keep you out of it, you don’t get it! I’ll do your food from now on so stay out of my kitchen! – the past owner of this home.” He bit his lower lip before once again glancing at the still closed door. The past owner of this home? As far as he knew the past owner died due to falling down the stairs.
He slowly walked to the door and carefully pressed down the handle, trying his best not to make too much noise but it had to squeak anyway. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, pressing his lips into a thin line while suppressing the groan that was bubbling up in his throat. Then he stepped outside and tip toed down the corridor, softs pats could be heard each time his still slightly wet feet touched the ground.
When he got closer to the kitchen he could hear the extractor hood that he usually forgot to turn on blowing and the smell of freshly made pancakes filled the air. He couldn’t help but melt at the sweet taste that was already lingering on his tongue and licked his lips, then the wood underneath his feet cracked slightly and his senses immediately sharpened again. Gulping he looked around the corner, not really knowing what he was expecting. No sane burglar would leave such a message and then cook breakfast. The only person he could imagine doing this was an overly self-confident murderer but who would want to murder him anyways? He was a good for nothing office worker that literally everyone used to load their own work on so that he ended up having to do way too much that he couldn’t possibly handle all alone. He was honestly surprised that he had survived the hell he called work for the past 5 years ever since he moved here.
When he looked around the corner he scratched the back of his neck in confusion and fully stepped into the kitchen. There was the pan on the stove, a seemingly forgotten pancake still on it and there was a full plate of already cooked pancakes on the counter next to it but there was no sign of a person anywhere.
He once again looked around but still didn’t see anything and made his way over to the pan to take it off from the still switched on stove to save it from being burned when the ladle was being lifted out of the bowl with the pancake batter and almost shoved right in his face by- well nothing? He looked confused at the ladle that flew back into the batter and he tilted his head slightly. What the heck was going on? Then he let his hand glide over his other arm and pinched it but he was still standing in the kitchen and nothing had changed, the ladle still twirled around in the Bowl until it came to a halt. So this wasn’t a dream?
When he caught a movement in the corner of his eye he spun around only to see a pen scribbling something onto a small paper on its own, then the paper flew over to him and shoved itself right into his hands. He gulped and blinked a few times, shaking his head as well but when he looked up again the pan that was previously on the stove was lifted and the pancake in it was neatly placed on top of the other Pancakes on the plate. He looked back down on the paper to read what it said,
“I told you to stay out of my kitchen! Leave and put on some clothes, the pancakes will be ready in a few minutes.” When he could hear a hiss he looked back up again and saw that new batter was added in the pan.
He just turned around and left the kitchen, making his way over to his room where he sat on his bed. What the heck just happened? Was that really a ghost or was he going crazy right now? He brought up a hand to his forehead to check his temperature but it seemed rather normal though checking your own temperature wouldn’t work in the first place since you don’t feel as hot as you actually are.
He just groaned out, then thought back to where the strange events started happening which would be the note on the mirror. He replayed the words or at least what he could still remember of it in his head.
“I’m tired of you ruining my kitchen. I’ll make food for you from now on so stay out of it” and wasn’t there something about that ‘the past owner of this house’ tried to keep him out of the kitchen? What did it mean? Then it dawned on him.
If that really was the ghost of the past owner of his house then all those times where ingredients, objects or seasonings would randomly disappear and then reappear on completely wrong places were the ghosts doings? It wasn’t just him being a mess and constantly forgetting that he placed those things somewhere else?
And all those times plates and bowls randomly scattered to the ground weren’t the doing of the neighbour’s cat where he always wondered how she would get into his home in the first place?
Was it the ghosts doing that all his random accidents never ended in tragedies as well? All those times when the stove just randomly went off when he had forgotten it once again or when he started wondering when he turned on the extractor hood. He never did. It must have been the ghost.
Even yesterday when he almost set the house on fire by accidentally overheating the oil in the pan by putting a lid on it and it flashed when he opened it again, a huge flame coming out of it. Strangely enough while he was panicking and running around in the house in search of a fire extinguisher the flame had died out. There was no other explanation than that it must have been the ghost.
He blinked again before dropping his head in his hands. What was he even thinking? There was no way a ghost was actually real. He shook his head once again before he stood up and started to get dressed. After he had slipped on some comfy sweatpants and a large white t-shirt he made his way back to the kitchen. When he would step in everything would be back to normal, no food, no flying random things but the sweet smell that was still lingering in the air kind of made it hard to believe.
When he set foot into the kitchen everything was clean and back to normal and he breathed out in relieve. So it really was just his crazy imagination. Maybe he had slept too less the past few weeks after all.
Then he made his way over to the dining room while he brought up his hand to comb through his now almost dried locks and froze. There was the plate with pancakes, a cup of coffee and a note lying on the table that said,
“Enjoy your meal.”