House 356

1. Unbeliever

" Tell me the first thing that comes to your mind when I say the word Ghost or haunted. If you're anything like me the first thing that comes to your mind is bullshit right? Yeah that's what I thought too, same thing with the words witch or curse, all bullshit, I was fucking sure of it. Until, I wasn't. I'm only gonna explain this shitty true story once so listen up extras, cause I hate to repeat myself."

" I'm Katsuki Bakugo, twenty four year old construction worker. I've been fixing up shit houses since I was old enough to start working. I've seen it all, houses that were crumbling to the ground, brunt out ones, abandoned ones, owners just didn't give a fuck ones. Old, new, expensive, dirt cheap. I've been in and fixed them all so when I took on the job of a huge old,nearly dilapidated place right in my own neighborhood I didn't bat a damn eye, cause this is my job and I'm fucking good at it. This job would prove to be extremely different from the rest I was soon to find out."

" I should probably mention that my parents moved us to New Orleans Louisiana when I was in my teens. I grew up listening to stories about voodoo, hoodoo, witches, warlocks, bayous, spells and curses, all kinds of hocus pocus bullshit. You name it, I've fucking heard it. The city of New Orleans is supposedly one of the most haunted in the world, if you believe in that kind of shit, keep in mind, I did not, not even a little and I thought anyone who did had a couple fucking scews loose."

" Anyway, I still live in New Orleans, went from working for some pushy know it all cocky boss to owning my own construction business and being that pushy, know it all, cocky boss with my own crew. Three of those idiots on my crew I grew up with. Shitty Hair, Soy Sauce, and Dunce Face. Well, to you extras I guess they would be Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari but trust me my names for them are far more accurate. I've known them since high-school, sadly they decided to stick around like an annoying cold you can't shake, a bad rash that keeps coming back or some shit habit that just keeps showing the fuck up even though you hate it. You get the idea, but I'm getting off topic here."

" I moved into my own place, a decent size house that I saved up and bought, then fixed up myself a year ago. I've taken my morning run past a large Victorian style house on my street a million times. I was pretty sure the place was going to end up getting torn the hell down and some shitty new cookie cutter house would get put in it's place. Which would have been a shame cause I like old houses, they tell a story, show a personality new houses just don't. Some tell more of a story than others, like this one. Imagine my surprise when I got a request from someone who actually bought that heap of a house and wanted it restored so he could sell it for a bigger profit. I've done that kind of work before, I'm use to it, so I gave the guy my price for the work and once he accepted it, I started the job, a job that would change my entire life and at some points, make me question my God damn sanity."

" Now let's keep in mind that this was a neighborhood I was familiar with even before I bought my own house, so like in any small, too close for fucking comfort neighborhoods people talk, gossip, like little old ladies who don't have anything else to do so they sit around and talk all damn day, about everything, like, what neighbor is cheating with what neighbor, what some chick down the street was wearing a fucking week ago and how she looked like a trashy hooker in it, what teenage brat was caught smoking and who they were caught smoking with. I mean these old bats will discuss everything from the car they saw in front of your house to the color you painted your damn fence and how it clashes with the grass and ruined the whole street. It's seriously fucking ridiculous."

" I'm an alright looking guy, ok maybe a little more than alright looking so some of these crazy old ladies have developed some what a crush on me. They like to see the tall, built, blonde guy who works out all the time run by with his shirt off, I mean in all honesty, who fucking wouldn't? Like I said, I'm a good looking guy. Cocky, I mentioned I was remember, so don't go acting all surprised extra. Anyway, on one of these morning runs of mine Miss Jamison stops me to give me a fresh lemonade which seems to be an old lady thing to do. It's either lemonade or iced tea, I always know I'm getting one of them. She's actually one of the few on the block I actually like, cause she's mouthy just like me. She tells me she heard that someone was getting ready to work on that big old Victorian house a few doors down.