Status: Finals are coming by and I need to get my grades up. I won't be updating this very much. I'm sorry. Bare with me.
We're Ghosts in a Hail of Bullets
The Brunette and the Blonde.
"Ask it a question," Tate said as he nudged me with his shoulder slightly. My mind went blank and my body went some what numb. There was something about spirits and ghost that caused me to freeze. All I could do was shake my head and twist my lips. Tate shrugged and then looked to the ceiling in thought. Our hands were on the planchette, though I hardly touched it. The tips of my fingers were lightly placed on the wooden, triangle shaped device.
"Did O.J. Simpson really kill that girl?" Tate asked jokingly. He laughed and then nudged me again, playfully. I chuckled a little bit at his joke. Then the planchette moved to the Yes that was printed on the board in fancy, bold handwriting. I shoved Tate with my shoulder in a playful way and told him to stop. I know he moved it to make me laugh and maybe get a scare out of me. "I didn't do it!" he chuckled at me innocently.
"It magically moved on it's own?" I questioned him, though I already knew his answer.
"Of course it did," he replied obviously, "It's an Ouija board, isn't it?". I lightly shook my head and then starred at the board as the planchette returned to the center. "It's your turn," he said as an order. It took me a minute to think of a question but I came up with a half-assed one.
"Is this house haunted?" I asked with an annoyed sigh. We both watched the planchette, waiting for it to move. Slowly, but surely, it found it's way to the Yes again. Tate looked at me with curious eyes.
"You think this place is haunted?" he asked. As a joke, I moved the planchette to Yes. He smiled at me and chuckled under his breath. "Go get your candles. It'll make this scarier," he suggested. I replied with a slight nod and shrugged before getting up. On my way up from the floor, Tate grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. He kissed me hard and then allowed me to pull away. I ran up the stairs and approached the stairs, until I heard an unfamiliar voice.
"These tables are just so plain. I don't understand what she was thinking when she picked them out. I mean, good God, Patrick," a flamboyantly gay voice echoed from the living room, followed by a sigh. I tip toed light over to the arch way, listening to what they were talking about and hoping to get a glimpse of our intruders.
"Chad, I agree with you, but she doesn't know what she's doing," another one said. This one was more manly and firm.
"That's what I'm saying!" the other cut in. They stopped talking once they noticed my presence.
Two well built men were standing in our living room. One was tall, with broad shoulders, muscular everything, lightly slicked back blonde hair, and light colored eyes. His arms were crossed and he examined me with curiosity. The other man was shorter, tense, and leaner. He had short dark brown hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. He held a glass of wine in one hand as his arm rested on the other. He stared at me with a hatred that struck me with a dagger like blow. I wouldn't let him see it though. Silence past over the room for too long and the brunette shook his head, physically asking me what I was doing there.
"Who the hell are you two?" I asked sharply. The brunette then stared at me intensely, ooing with a dark laugh. Before he could answer my mother appeared, holding a bottle of white wine. She stood next to the two men, pouring the one a new glass, apologizing for my rudeness.
"That's no way to talk to guests, Anna," she snapped with a forced smile. "You'll have to excuse her. She doesn't like new people that much. She gets shy and intimidated,". I glared at her with anger. Why would she say that? The blonde one chuckled and told her that he was the same at my age. He doesn't know my age. I looked twelve by my size. Was he also an awkward, twelve-year-old-looking sixteen year old? He had to stand at least six foot four, so I doubt that he was. He was handsome, as was the other one, but the brunette had bitched his way out of any positive compliments.
My mom laughed softly at both of them and them looked at me with a stern look. I knew I had to apologize, so I did. It was quiet and quick. A swift, "I'm sorry,". I gave no reason to why I was sorry because I didn't have one. It surfaced. I noticed my mom was dressed and out of bed. Her hair was straight and she even had a bit of make-up on. Her voice still showed hints of a cold and her eyes were puffy, but she could push through anything if it meant putting on a show for some company. She could entertain some new neighbors, but she couldn't drive me to school. I wouldn't complain though.
"Anna, this is Chad," Mom peered over to the brunette, "and his partner Patrick," that left the blonde. "They're a nice couple from around the corner who agreed to help renovate the house,". Her voice was so cheery and joyful that I almost laughed at her, but I knew her happiness was sincere. She knew she needed help on the house and my father knew nothing about furniture or colors. A nice little gay couple was perfect for her, but something struck a nerve with me. A soft ding went off in my head, but it was too faint to hear clearly. The bell continued to ding, but remained quiet.
I twisted my lips in thought, searching my brain for the source of the ringing. I completely overlooked the answer and it would bother me until I went back down stairs. I told my mom that I had to go, apologized once again, and then ran up to my room. I grabbed my green and red candle and then ran back down stairs, heading for the basement. My hand touched the door knob, when I felt eyes on me. I glanced over to my right and saw Chad starring at me. A small, sly smile appeared on his lips before he brought the wine glass up to them and took a sip. If my hands weren't full with candles and a door knob, I would've flipped him off, but I couldn't. Instead I simply went back down stairs and shut the door behind me. The room seemed a bit darker, but I didn't mind. I could see Tate, which was all I needed. He was in the same spot that I left him, a smile on his face. It was nice to know that he didn't disappear to go play a joke on me.
I sat down next to him again, setting the two candles on each side of the board, and lighting them. Tate and I took turns asking the Ouija board questions. They came a lot more quickly now and they varied this time. Tate asked if I wanted his nuts and he pushed the planchette to Yes. It caused me to shove him playfully. I jokingly asked, "Why is Tate such an asshole?" but I didn't move the planchette. He kissed my cheek and told me to shush. An actual question popped into my head. I asked if we were speaking to a kind spirit and it answered yes. Tate asked if it was a boy or girl and it responded with male. Our questions continued as characteristics of our spiritual messenger. Hair color, eye color, date of death, married or single, and other useless things. The ghost was apparently a boy, brown hair, hazel eyes, he died in 2003, and the board spelled out 'Partner very slowly. The bell went off again, this time it was louder and when it rang, Chad's stare entered my head. It rang once more but this time it actually hit me with a jolt that made me stand up, throwing the planchette. It hit the wall with a weak amount of force and then landed on the floor. Tate instantly jumped up with me and held me, asking me what was wrong. The words became glue and stuck in my throat. I couldn't speak a single word. I was scared and confused. Was Chad trying to tell me something up there? He knew that I knew his story. Moira told me it days ago. He wasn't a kind neighbor who was taking a look at the house with his lovely partner. He was a part of this house.
It took me twenty minutes before I could say anything. Tate waited patient though, holding me close as I shook with a puzzling fear. I bet he could feel my heart beating out my chest as it dropped into my stomach, but continued to race. I inhaled quickly, stopped to savor my air, and then exhaled slowly. I had to swallow first. It hardly went down. But then I was able to speak.
"There are two gay guys up stairs, telling my mom that they're neighbors," I blurted out. That must have been very confusing to Tate because he looked at me puzzled. His head was slightly tilted to the side and he squinted his eyes. I took another odd breath and swallowed. "They aren't real," I muttered this time. A light bulb appeared over his head and he smiled sweetly at me.
"You're seeing the ghosts," he said with that smile. He said it so casually that it sent a chill down my spine. He knew this place was haunted. He knew all of it's secrets.
"Did O.J. Simpson really kill that girl?" Tate asked jokingly. He laughed and then nudged me again, playfully. I chuckled a little bit at his joke. Then the planchette moved to the Yes that was printed on the board in fancy, bold handwriting. I shoved Tate with my shoulder in a playful way and told him to stop. I know he moved it to make me laugh and maybe get a scare out of me. "I didn't do it!" he chuckled at me innocently.
"It magically moved on it's own?" I questioned him, though I already knew his answer.
"Of course it did," he replied obviously, "It's an Ouija board, isn't it?". I lightly shook my head and then starred at the board as the planchette returned to the center. "It's your turn," he said as an order. It took me a minute to think of a question but I came up with a half-assed one.
"Is this house haunted?" I asked with an annoyed sigh. We both watched the planchette, waiting for it to move. Slowly, but surely, it found it's way to the Yes again. Tate looked at me with curious eyes.
"You think this place is haunted?" he asked. As a joke, I moved the planchette to Yes. He smiled at me and chuckled under his breath. "Go get your candles. It'll make this scarier," he suggested. I replied with a slight nod and shrugged before getting up. On my way up from the floor, Tate grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. He kissed me hard and then allowed me to pull away. I ran up the stairs and approached the stairs, until I heard an unfamiliar voice.
"These tables are just so plain. I don't understand what she was thinking when she picked them out. I mean, good God, Patrick," a flamboyantly gay voice echoed from the living room, followed by a sigh. I tip toed light over to the arch way, listening to what they were talking about and hoping to get a glimpse of our intruders.
"Chad, I agree with you, but she doesn't know what she's doing," another one said. This one was more manly and firm.
"That's what I'm saying!" the other cut in. They stopped talking once they noticed my presence.
Two well built men were standing in our living room. One was tall, with broad shoulders, muscular everything, lightly slicked back blonde hair, and light colored eyes. His arms were crossed and he examined me with curiosity. The other man was shorter, tense, and leaner. He had short dark brown hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. He held a glass of wine in one hand as his arm rested on the other. He stared at me with a hatred that struck me with a dagger like blow. I wouldn't let him see it though. Silence past over the room for too long and the brunette shook his head, physically asking me what I was doing there.
"Who the hell are you two?" I asked sharply. The brunette then stared at me intensely, ooing with a dark laugh. Before he could answer my mother appeared, holding a bottle of white wine. She stood next to the two men, pouring the one a new glass, apologizing for my rudeness.
"That's no way to talk to guests, Anna," she snapped with a forced smile. "You'll have to excuse her. She doesn't like new people that much. She gets shy and intimidated,". I glared at her with anger. Why would she say that? The blonde one chuckled and told her that he was the same at my age. He doesn't know my age. I looked twelve by my size. Was he also an awkward, twelve-year-old-looking sixteen year old? He had to stand at least six foot four, so I doubt that he was. He was handsome, as was the other one, but the brunette had bitched his way out of any positive compliments.
My mom laughed softly at both of them and them looked at me with a stern look. I knew I had to apologize, so I did. It was quiet and quick. A swift, "I'm sorry,". I gave no reason to why I was sorry because I didn't have one. It surfaced. I noticed my mom was dressed and out of bed. Her hair was straight and she even had a bit of make-up on. Her voice still showed hints of a cold and her eyes were puffy, but she could push through anything if it meant putting on a show for some company. She could entertain some new neighbors, but she couldn't drive me to school. I wouldn't complain though.
"Anna, this is Chad," Mom peered over to the brunette, "and his partner Patrick," that left the blonde. "They're a nice couple from around the corner who agreed to help renovate the house,". Her voice was so cheery and joyful that I almost laughed at her, but I knew her happiness was sincere. She knew she needed help on the house and my father knew nothing about furniture or colors. A nice little gay couple was perfect for her, but something struck a nerve with me. A soft ding went off in my head, but it was too faint to hear clearly. The bell continued to ding, but remained quiet.
I twisted my lips in thought, searching my brain for the source of the ringing. I completely overlooked the answer and it would bother me until I went back down stairs. I told my mom that I had to go, apologized once again, and then ran up to my room. I grabbed my green and red candle and then ran back down stairs, heading for the basement. My hand touched the door knob, when I felt eyes on me. I glanced over to my right and saw Chad starring at me. A small, sly smile appeared on his lips before he brought the wine glass up to them and took a sip. If my hands weren't full with candles and a door knob, I would've flipped him off, but I couldn't. Instead I simply went back down stairs and shut the door behind me. The room seemed a bit darker, but I didn't mind. I could see Tate, which was all I needed. He was in the same spot that I left him, a smile on his face. It was nice to know that he didn't disappear to go play a joke on me.
I sat down next to him again, setting the two candles on each side of the board, and lighting them. Tate and I took turns asking the Ouija board questions. They came a lot more quickly now and they varied this time. Tate asked if I wanted his nuts and he pushed the planchette to Yes. It caused me to shove him playfully. I jokingly asked, "Why is Tate such an asshole?" but I didn't move the planchette. He kissed my cheek and told me to shush. An actual question popped into my head. I asked if we were speaking to a kind spirit and it answered yes. Tate asked if it was a boy or girl and it responded with male. Our questions continued as characteristics of our spiritual messenger. Hair color, eye color, date of death, married or single, and other useless things. The ghost was apparently a boy, brown hair, hazel eyes, he died in 2003, and the board spelled out 'Partner very slowly. The bell went off again, this time it was louder and when it rang, Chad's stare entered my head. It rang once more but this time it actually hit me with a jolt that made me stand up, throwing the planchette. It hit the wall with a weak amount of force and then landed on the floor. Tate instantly jumped up with me and held me, asking me what was wrong. The words became glue and stuck in my throat. I couldn't speak a single word. I was scared and confused. Was Chad trying to tell me something up there? He knew that I knew his story. Moira told me it days ago. He wasn't a kind neighbor who was taking a look at the house with his lovely partner. He was a part of this house.
It took me twenty minutes before I could say anything. Tate waited patient though, holding me close as I shook with a puzzling fear. I bet he could feel my heart beating out my chest as it dropped into my stomach, but continued to race. I inhaled quickly, stopped to savor my air, and then exhaled slowly. I had to swallow first. It hardly went down. But then I was able to speak.
"There are two gay guys up stairs, telling my mom that they're neighbors," I blurted out. That must have been very confusing to Tate because he looked at me puzzled. His head was slightly tilted to the side and he squinted his eyes. I took another odd breath and swallowed. "They aren't real," I muttered this time. A light bulb appeared over his head and he smiled sweetly at me.
"You're seeing the ghosts," he said with that smile. He said it so casually that it sent a chill down my spine. He knew this place was haunted. He knew all of it's secrets.