We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets

I sat in my new room, full of unopened boxes. The only other object in there was a large, queen size bed with silver color posts and a black and red bed spread. My parents were downstairs, talking to each other about the amazing deal they got on the house. Their voices echoed through the empty home. It was a beautiful building. Everything in it was original and old. I couldn't tell you every exact detail. I wasn't listening to the retailer when she walked us through the house. I was too busy starring out of the windows, admiring the details of the fireplace, or figuring out which room I wanted to take. The only time the woman caught my attention was when she talked about the history. This house had a long history of murders and suicides. My parents were a little taken back, but they weren't shaken enough not to take the deal. The house was huge. It had dozens of rooms to explore and they were all twice as big as my room back in Vermont.

"They really like them big in Cali, don't they?" My mother entered my new room, smiling. My mom looks like me, only older and taller. We share curly, wavy, raven black hair, an oval shaped face, and full red lips. But where her eyes are brown, mine are blue. Her skin is worn with hard work and age, mine is fresh and pale. She was tall. Around five foot four. I was very short for my age. I'm sixteen and only stand at four foot eleven.

"Yeah. I didn't expect it to be this big," I replied as I sat on my bed. The movers brought the furniture over the other day.

"I don't think our stuff is going to match the house. Do you want to help me pick some end tables and other things tomorrow?" she asked as she leaned against the doorway. Her eyes peered around the empty room, probably thinking of different things to decorate it with. I had stacks of posters, drawings, and clippings from magazines ready to tape onto the dark wooden walls. I simply nodded as a response. "Start unpacking. I want everything up by Friday," she said before leaving. I laid on my bed, spreading my arms out and starring at the white ceiling.
I tried to take in the new scent of the house. It smelled of dust and old things; like a grandmother's home without the baked goods or comfort. This new place needed some time and patience before I would get use to it, but I remained optimistic.
I would be the new kid at the local high school which would be a new experience for me. I've never had the chance to be the new kid unless I was a freshman. I had no idea what to expect and I liked it. But I would miss my small group of friends back in Vermont. The memories we made would stay in my mind for years, but memories live. They're there to be made I suppose. The only thing I really worried about was if they would miss me. When I left Vermont they gave me hugs. My friend Nicolette cried as we said goodbye, but how long would they care? These were the things that I thought about as I laid in my bed.
I closed my eyes and imagined something nice. A field of fresh cut grass and wild flowers. The smell of pine trees and the sounds of birds chirping away. I tried to rub my hands against the soft blades of grass, but I only felt the crush velvet of my blanket. I inhaled the fresh pine but I received the smell of the old house and it's dead scents. There were other feelings that lingered in my room besides sight, smell, and touch but I disregarded them as chills of a new home.
The air felt heavy. Though the room was empty, it felt occupied. Perhaps the house was reliving it's own memories and fantasies. There was always some fear of moving into a new place. This was my first move, but I had a feeling that everyone felt like this at some point. Maybe someones watching you or maybe your heart isn't the only one beating in the room. That thing you see in the corner of you eye might be something after all. My original home wasn't haunted. I lived there for sixteen years without any problem, but I've watched ghost shows on T.V. That what if lingers in my mind and it scares me.

Later that night I found myself tossing and turning. My bed creaked and wobbled whenever I turned over. The noise began to bother me. I noticed that the house made a lot of weird noises but nothing I wasn't use to. There were random creeks in the floorboards, a tap on the window, the furnace would turn on with a silent roar, and other things that caused me to gasp and jump. I kept my eyes closed the whole night in fear of what I would find if they were opened. I was being silly and paranoid. I think I had the right too. None of that matters though. The point is I didn't get any sleep the first night.