The Old Man's Mansion

Some people swore that the house was haunted, but the man who lived in it, John, never found anything out of the ordinary. John was a very quiet old man, around eighty years of age and he never left his large home. It had five bedrooms, three baths, a large living room, everything a person would want. The only problem was that people always loved to come in without permission. It didn't bother John, since they never stayed very long. But one night changed his life forever. It was a normal night, John never slept well during the night so he sat in the living room watching his television. Then he heard a large crash like someone broke a vase. As anyone would he got up and checked the place where it seemed that the crash came from.

The table where the vase was sitting was knocked over and the window that the table was in front of was open. About a foot away from the table was a dark blue vase, it was in your normal vase shape and it was broken. John put his hand to his head, obviously a bit annoyed from this. He looked around for some evidence of who had broken his vase. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw some muddy footprints. It led toward his kitchen, a place that needed to be cleaned but he couldn't clean it himself. John followed the footprints to where they stopped which happened to be the kitchen.

The kitchen was a dirty place: dishes piled in the sink, food was left out, the floor needed to be swept and mopped. John couldn't clean it himself, he was too old and often dropped things. But John also couldn't go out of the house to hire a cleaner, so he stayed stuck with his dirty kitchen. In front of the fridge, there was a young man. He seemed to be about sixteen, and he was rummaging through the fridge. John had made the clearing your throat noise people making when wanting your attention. The boy turned from the fridge and all color drained from his face. He had looked like he had seen a ghost. The boy screamed and ran past John, running as fast as he could. John turned around and said to himself, "Am I that ugly?" His voice was frail, pretty much what'd you expect from an old man.

John had followed, or more of a tried to follow the boy. But he was already long gone and John was too slow to follow him. He went back to his chair and sat down in it. Watching one of his favorite shows. It was one of those old-timey shows the television providers kept on because it was a classic. He sat down and enjoyed his show until he heard another noise. This time he had heard talking, but couldn't make out what the people were saying. John, who knew that people liked to break into his house almost every week, ignored it and continued to watch the show.

The talking got louder, and soon John heard some footsteps coming near him. He tried to ignore them, but he knew that they were coming closer. He didn't want to deal with anyone currently so he just let them be. John turned the volume on the television up a bit more, so that he could drown out the noise from whoever was inside his house. Soon two young people had entered his living room. One was talking to the other, "Yeah heard this place was haunted. By some old ghost. I think it's stupid."
"S-stupid? I freakin' saw a ghost man."
"Doubt it, you probably just saw some chair with a sheet over it."
"No, I know what I saw dude."
"Whatever."

The boys didn't seem to notice John in his chair, they even started to lounge on the couch in the living room. The boy who didn't believe in ghosts ate an apple while lounging. "What the hell even is this show? It was made in like the fourteen hundreds." He had got up to grab the remote when John spoke, "Don't you even try to change this show." Both boys' heads slowly turned toward the chair and all color had drained from their faces. The one who had seemed to be the one that was inside the fridge pointed a shaky finger toward John and yelled, "Ghost!" Both boys shot up and ran toward the door. They bolted out the door and soon John couldn't even see them.

John looked confused, he wasn't a ghost. Or he didn't know he was a ghost. He went up to his bedroom, a place he didn't really like because of the mess. Like the kitchen, he couldn't clean it. But there was something in the bedroom he hadn't noticed before. A white chalk silhouette. One that outlined where the dead body was so that the body could be buried. How John hadn't noticed before was beyond him, there also seemed to be dried blood on the walls. Like a murder had happened in this room. John rushed to his bathroom, looking into the mirror. But his reflection didn't appear. Only the wall in front of the mirror. John looked frightened, he had lived in this house for years, and he hadn't noticed he was a ghost until now. Nothing was ever the same after that.