A Ghosts' Story

Chapter 2

-Here we go again.
—I'm American trying to write for British boys.. *cries in American*.

Tommy's POV
If the outside of the house wasn't bad enough, the inside looked like it hadn't been inhabited in years. We set down our backpacks on the sofa. "We still need to get our luggage", Tubbo reminds me. I nod and we go back outside to the car.

??? POV
We watch the kids leave the house we've been in for years. "Why are there kids here?", I ask the other two with me, my sons.

"They're from the city", one of my sons tells me, his glasses flashing. I'm guessing he can tell by their clothes and actions.

"Are they gone yet?", my other son asks, he really doesn't like people, especially after the fire.

"I think they're staying awhile", I tell them as we watch the kids hull their luggage into the abandoned house.

Tommy's POV
We get our luggage to the house and leave them at the door, the house is a bit chilly for it being summer.

"Let's go find our rooms", Tubbo suggests, me listening to him. We look around the two story house, one room giving us such a bad feeling we immediately shut the door after opening. "That room is weirdchamp," I mutter to Tubbo, him agreeing with me. There are three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen.

I get my luggage to the room I picked, looking around. I hear the car starting up and leaving, meaning mum has left, us being left actually alone. The room is very bland, but I got an almost welcoming feeling from the room.

Noticing a wardrobe, I run over to it, "one- two- three!.. Tubbo look!", I call trying to get my best friends attention from the other room. The wardrobe was remotely empty except for a box at the bottom of it. I pull out the box and open it, "what's this," I hear Tubbo ask, picking up a hat.
"It's a hat, Tubbo".
"Yeah, but who's?"
"Probably the guy who died", I respond, rolling my eyes.
"It's really well kept for its age", he says and puts the hat down. I pick the hat up and put it on my head, when I do a chill runs down my spine and I take it off immediately.

I put the box back and follow Tubbo to his room. "Is that a guitar?", I ask him. He whips his head to the direction I'm pointing in. "It is!", he exclaims and rushes to it. I smile at his antics. He strums a few strings and the room seems to drop a few degrees in temperature. "The ghosts..", I hear Tubbo mutter. I shake my head at that, "Ghosts aren't real", I say leaving the room to go unpack.

Tubbo and I spend the rest of the day unpacking and setting up our computers to stream, ordering pizza for dinner. "So when are we going ghost hunting?", Tubbo asks. I shrug, "Whenever you want to, I guess." I see Tubbo's eyes light up, "Tomorrow!", he exclaims, I smile, starting to get a bit excited. I may not believe in ghosts but if it makes Tubbo happy I can play along.

We both go to bed after a long day of unpacking.