I realized that if I'm going to make this story last until the end of October, I need to slow my roll. So that means either shorter chapters, or longer chapters that are just fillers.
IG: shakesqueerbooks
Tumblr: writinglangst8703
---
---
Things were getting weird, and everyone knew it. Phones didn't send messages or give calls when no one was there to press their buttons.
Coffee pots didn't move from their spots.
Doors don't slam by themself.
Something was wrong.
Or maybe it was just the Halloween jitters.
"What do you mean you have three missed calls from me?!" Lance protested, getting up from his spot to look at his friends phone.
"I mean exactly that, see?"
On Shiro's screen there was displayed three notifications with a green phone picture next to it.
You have three missed calls from Lance.
It was confusing for them as they took turns looking at the notifications and hoping that it would give them a solution to this madness.
"I couldn't have called you." Lance defended loudly, heart thudding in his chest. So weird, so so weird. "I lost my phone when I went to shower the day before yesterday."
Hunk spoke up, even though he looked the most spooked out of all of them. "And besides, why would Lance call you if we were all here together?"
It was daunting and slightly frightening.
What could they do except laugh it off and continue on with breakfast?
Lance wasn't confessing to anything, and what harm was there in a few missed calls anyway?
But Lance knew better.
As his friends resumed their most important meal of the day, the Cuban boy got to thinking.
This household been around for a good amount of time. It had been built by his father's late grandfather back in the early nineteenth century, making it nearly two hundred years old.
Could that mean something?
People had been born in this house.
People had died.
People were hurt in this house.
And of Lance had seen any scary movies in his life, which he'd seen many since he loved them, there was a theory that stuck out like a sore thumb.
Spirits.