Chapter Text
I stood at the window, looking out and watching the new family that was moving in. Why, might you ask, was I still here when someone else was moving into my home? The answer is simple: I'm just a ghost. A thin wisp of air that has been sending chills down mans' spine for centuries.
I sighed and closed my [e/c] eyes. Us ghosts aren't as bad as the stories say we are, it's just our counterparts, poltergeists, always get mixed up with us so humans instantly think the word 'ghost' when something bad and unexplainable happens...it makes me sad to be honest.
I opened my eyes and continued to watch the family. A man with emerald eyes was leading 2 boys up the walkway to the door. One had chin length blonde hair with an unusual curl sticking out from the rest of his hair, and he had beautiful violet eyes and had a polar bear in his arms. I couldn't help but smile at his sweet young face. He seemed scared too - probably from all the 'spooky stories' about my home. I turned my attention from him and to his overly energetic brother (as I just guessed). I couldn't help but be drawn to his eyes, as I had with his brother and (possibly) father. His were a beautiful deep sky blue...
"Dude! This place already has furniture!" I cringed as the front door was slammed open. I glided from the second story window and down to the bottom of the stairs, making sure to stay hidden. Guess I was wrong with it being a small family. Whom I saw were three grown men instead of a father and his two children. Maybe it was because of that man's bushy eyebrows that made me think he was older...
"Alfred! Don't slam the door!" the green-eyed-bushy-browed man yelled at the other. 'Alfred' just laughed him off and fell onto the couch. The man who yelled at him just sighed and walked past me up the stairs. I turned back around, and with a sure step, stepped off the last stair and into "full view".
Alfred and his violet-eyed friend sat on the couch watching football (soccer) on the 1970s styled television. It looked as though one of the two had messed with it while I had watched the bushy-browed man walk up the stairs because now they were watching a football channel that had not been there when I was alive...even when dead actually! My poltergeist, Abbie, would mess with it whenever she was bored, so we would end up watching television together.
What I mean by Abbie as /my/ poltergeist is that she is my 'alter-ego', in a sense. For example, I am [trait] and she is the opposite. The exact lposite. I have [h/c] hair and she has [h/c]; I have [e/c] eyes and she has [e/c]. So on and so forth..
"You know it isn't nice to stare~."