The daily life of a ghost in Oletus manor

Chapter 1

Claude Desaulnier was supposed to be dead. He could remember himself dying, the ever-growing pain in his chest, the way it became harder and harder to breathe as days went by. He remembered all that pain, the hurt, the fear of being so close to his death. The way he felt every time he would see his family, the pitiful, grieving expressions on their faces. The hopeful, pleading voice of his twin brother, the tears he shed beside his deathbed when he thought no one was watching.

And he remembered himself giving up. Wishing, yearning for the suffering to end, and the guilt he felt for wanting such a thing. Somehow he hated himself for leaving his family, his beloved twin behind.

But he just couldn't continue. He was so tired.

So he closed his eyes one last time and fell into a peaceful, eternal slumber, leaving behind all that pain and suffering.

Or so he thought.

He was pretty sure dead people aren't supposed to just wake up one day, especially not in a place they never even heard of before.

Oh well. Here he is now, so he might as well enjoy this second chance he got.

First of all, he wanted to look around the place. It looked like a castle or a very big house. A manor maybe? It didn't seem to be a pleasant place, to be honest, he's got chills running down his spine just by being there. It had a certain unsettling atmosphere. The room he currently found himself in was really, really dark and gloomy. The only light source was a small, flickering candle sitting on an old, dusty table. The walls had small cracks all over it, the wallpaper looked rather old and torn. The flooring was made out of wood, with a brown carpet on top of it in the middle. There was a big wardrobe near the left wall, and a huge, king-sized bed right below the dirty, cracked old window, that had a big crimson red curtain covering it. Besides the table was standing an old camera, though it didn't look exactly like the ones they used back in his time. He wondered how much time must have passed since he left the word of the living.

Well. All in all, the room looked like it didn't have an owner in a very, very long time. It also looked like it needed a good cleaning.

Shaking his head slightly, he took a deep breath and went for the door. Was the rest of the place in the same condition? Or is it just this one room?

He was so deep in his thought, that he didn't even notice at first, that instead of touching the rusty handle, he passed straight through the closed door, falling into the floor in the hall.

'What the-,' his eyes widened, only now realizing that he hasn't felt a single thing since he woke up not too long ago. Lifting his hands up to run his fingers through his hair, only now he notices, that in fact, he does not look human at all. He could see through his hands, which were slightly glowing with a bluish tint.

'Am I... a ghost?'

Suddenly, he wanted to laugh. Because of course. Of course, he would come back as a ghost! He literally died back then! He remembered it all well.

So. He became a ghost. But why now of all time? And why is he haunting a foreign, random place? It can't be their manor, can it? Only one way to find out!

He took a hold of himself, stood up, and started to go, exploring around the manor.

The whole place was in the same condition. Well, almost. There was a pretty long corridor, with many rooms besides the one he woke up in. The doors had small plaques on them, with names he cannot remember hearing of before. Looking at the one that belongs to the room he came out of, he saw a title instead of a name: "The Photographer". It was a little strange but fitting. After all, he saw that camera inside, and a wall filled with old photographs. He didn't really think much of it, instead, he turned to the one besides that door.