The moment I saw that house at the end of 23rd Street I felt drawn to it. I don’t know why. I don’t know what charm it had- it was said a double murder had taken place there- but it entranced me. When I told my parents and sister I wanted to live there, they warned me it had “a demonic spirit”, whatever that means. I ignored their superstitious thoughts and now I’m here, carrying boxes into this dusty house with no help from any of my family. It’s sad. My sister, Ashley, didn’t want to get dirty. Her excuse was she “had a date”, too bad I knew for a fact she was staying at home watching Netflix with my mom.
But you know what? Who cares? I’m free from the chains of my sister towering over me and my achievements. I can finally focus on what I want without the constant insults coming my way. I can finally work on artworks in comfort without my sister’s patronizing comments.
My home wasn’t particularly bad. It was quite stable, rich household, happy parents, beautiful sister… Then me. I’m a mistake. I’m not trying to be 'edgy', I’m just displaying the facts: my parents always wanted one child, but then one night I began my path to existence.
Who got the good genes?
Ashley.
Who got the most attention?
Ashley.
Who was the best at art?
Ashley.
It’s always Ashley regardless of what I do. I had a bad day? Yeah, well Ashley had a worse one so screw you. I want a puppy? Ashley wants a cat and she hates dogs anyway, so screw you. This is my “screw you” to my parents. You wanted me to live in a safe house that’s not haunted by a demonic spirit, yeah well, here I am. Screw you. As if this spirit even exists.
The house is two stories tall. It has an older feel to it due to its rotting wood and how it stands out from the modern architecture in the rest of the neighborhood. I already found a beautiful grand piano in the living room. Perfect. I establish my bedroom as the first one on the left of the upstairs and continue to bring boxes into my bedroom. There’s a burnt out lightbulb in the light attached to the ceiling and a box fan leaning against the window. A heavy coat of dust covers the fan, tempting me to turn it on and create a mess. I resist the urge remembering that power won't be on until tomorrow morning and sigh.
The rest of the afternoon is spent unboxing my belongings. I managed to unpack my bookcase and bed sheets since the van with all my furniture arrived, but most of the furniture is laying in the main living room. I also replace the burnt out lightbulbs with new ones that shine brightly. By the time I sink into my bed, it’s 8:30 at night and I’m utterly exhausted. My sketchbook lays open right next to me and I feel like creating an entry in it despite my drowsiness. Maybe it’s the freedom of being able to do this without wanting to hide it from anyone because nobody can barge in.
I think of my best friend, Aria. She has adorable freckles that I secretly envy sprinkled across her face in all the right places paired with red hair. I wish I met a guy with red hair- it’s my secret preference. Fluffy red hair and freckles. I take this idea and sketch out a guy with red hair and freckles. I decide he wears a striped shirt, skinny jeans, and worn Converse.
My drawing of a boy with red hair is finished at ten at night, colored and everything. If only he knew me… But that’s silly since it’s simply a guy I drew with adorable qualities. Besides, I’ve never dated anyone in my life, so what are the odds that I’d meet someone like him and date him? It kills me to see Ashley get anyone she likes because she’s stunning. Because she’s wanted by everyone. Me? My family doesn’t even want me.
I really don’t mean for all the self pity… I just…
I don’t know.
YOU ARE READING
Forever a Ghost ✓
Paranormal17 year old Matthew Christopher Roberts died in his own house in 2005. He's been stuck in the very same house as a ghost for the past 14 years. So what happens when Abigail, an artistic 18 year old and the shadow of her sister, moves in and wants to...
