Chapter Text
Grian flicks on his torch, then flicks it back off again. He fiddles with the switch, trying to get it to sit in the middle of the hard plastic. Him and his friends were going ghost hunting in this old abandoned house at the edge of town.
"Stop fidgeting," Gem says, checking they have all of their equipment. "You'll burn out the batteries if you keep doing that."
Grian sinks into his seat. He didn't like the feeling he got from the house. "This place gives me the willies," he mutters, crossing his arms. he looks out of the window towards the house as Gem works on connecting the cameras to the computer. The house was small—almost looking like a cottage—but it looked like it would have been cozy in its prime. Now it was run down with boards over the windows and vines creeping up the sides. The windows that weren't boarded up were broken, glass littering the front porch and probably the inside too. The front lawn was overgrown, the grass far too tall. No one had dared come near it since the man who owned it had been found dead inside, brutally murdered three years ago. "When are Impulse and Skizz gonna get here?" Grian asks, his arms crossed as he stares at the house.
"Who knows," Gem sighs, setting the camera down and getting out of the van. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun to keep it out of her face while they film. "But now we get to just sit here till they get here." She kicks her feet up onto the dashboard of the van, leaning back in the seat. It was dark outside, but the headlights were illuminating the house so they could see it. The property was fairly big, and they had parked on the long, winding gravel road that leads back to the road.
"It's amazing that that stupid little rust bucket hasn't fallen apart yet," he comments after a minute. Impulse and Skizz used a small, rusted, twelve year old blue sedan to get around to their ghost hunting sites. It always took them forever, and they'd wind up not getting home till four in the morning.
He checks his watch. It was almost ten. He lets out a deep sigh. It wasn't long before they hear the distant rumble of the car coming up the gravel driveway. The sound of engine was unable to be mistaken for anything other than Impulse and Skizz's car. He gets out of the van and unlocks the back of the van to get their stuff ready. He clips an EMF reader and spirit box on to his belt. He tucks a thermometer into his back pocket and grabs a camera. He takes a book and tucks it under his arm before getting out of the back of the van. Gem and him finish getting all of their stuff just as the rusted old sedan comes to a halt. The pair get out, toting snacks and water.
"Took you long enough," Gem sighs, handing them both a flashlight. The pair put the food and water in the van before getting their own things.
"Piece of junk wouldn't start," Skizz says, putting a D.O.T.S projector in his pocket.
"Then get rid of it," she responds, picking up a bag with the cameras in it.
"You really think we have the money for a brand new car?" Impulse scoffs, getting his own equipment from the back of the truck. "We barely have enough for rent every month."
"Maybe if you didn't spend every paycheck on snacks-"
"Hey, you know you'd be miserable without those snacks!" Skizz retorts. "Okay, who has the keys?"
Grian was already moving towards the house and he raises his hand to wave the keys. The porch creaks under his weight when he puts weight on it. He silently hopes that the boards aren't rotten. He slides the key into the lock and jiggles it a little before it turns. He pushes the door open, his friends close behind. They enter slowly, careful to be slow and cautious in case the floor was rotted through. They spread out, Grian using the EMF reader to try and locate the supposed ghost haunting the house. His flashlight shines over a spot of faded brown on the wooden floor and he recoils at the sight. That was blood. The sight makes him sick. They didn't even bother cleaning up the crime scene?
The EMF reader suddenly went crazy, startling him. He fumbles with the device before it drops to the floor, a crack appearing in the hard plastic. He goes to pick up, unsettled by the fact it landed on the blood stain. He really wanted to leave. He doesn't quite know why he ever agreed to ghost hunting. He hesitantly picks up the broken EMF reader and hits the broken box a few times. It wasn't working anymore. He groans. He'd have to get a new one from the van. He mutters swears under his breath as he trudges back to the van.
His flashlight begins to flicker before it goes out and he swears again, louder this time. Suddenly the Emf reader goes off again, beeping and flashing, the needle going back and forth between the one and the five. He drops it again in surprise, but this time it keeps going. Gem Comes rushing in at the sound of the EMF reader going off.
Grian picks it up and tries to press the button to turn it off but it wasn't working.
"Gosh dang it-" Grian mutters, hitting the box a few times.
"What the heck is going on?" Gem says, grabbing the box and removing the batteries. They just stand there in shock when it still doesn't work. The EMF reader was still going haywire even without any power source. "Why won't it stop?"
"I don't know!"
"Ghosts can interfere with electrical stuff right? Maybe it's haunting the EMF reader?" She suggests, not sounding too sure.
Grian takes the little plastic box outside and it immediately stops. He steps back inside and it starts going again. He goes back out and stops, and he goes back in and it starts again. "Maybe it is," he concedes. "It's weird it chose this piece of junk though."
He unclips the spirit box from his belt and leaves the EMF reader outside. He takes the spirit box into the room the EMF reader first went off in and turns it on. Instantly, he was met with the words "hello there", clear as day. It was as if it had been said right in front of him. It was nowhere near as garbled as a normal response from a spirit box. He takes a second before responding.
"Hi?" Grian asks tentatively.
"I haven't had visitors in years," the box replies, a seemingly cheerful lilt to the tone. He motions for Gem to come over to film it. It would be the best footage they've ever gotten. "Honestly I thought they would've sold the place by now!" The box was starting to get staticky, but they could still clearly make out the ghost's voice.
"What's your name?"
"Scar Goodtimes," the voice replies. A chill runs through Grian's body, as if there was suddenly a cold spot in the room.
Grian and Gem lock eyes, their excitement palpable.
"Did I really make that good of a first impression?" The voice chuckles.
"Scar Goodtimes, how exactly did you die?" Gem asks, grabbing the box from Grian. The voice falls silent. "Scar?" She asks.
"Uh…I think we lost him," Grian says after a few moments of silence.
"I'm still here. I can't really…leave," the voice says. "Don't people know how I died? Is it really a question at this point?"
"Well, we'd kind of like to confirm from the source," Gem says carefully.
Again, there was silence from the spirit box. They sit in silence, letting the ghost gather his thoughts.
"It was a break in gone wrong," the voice finally says. "I was alone, like usual, and this guy was breaking in. They saw me, panicked, and shot me point blank. I…I wasn't found for a week."
The sound of his voice made Grian regret letting him answer the question. The pain in the ghost's voice was audible. He takes the spirit box back from Gem. "I'm sorry, we shouldn't have asked."
"Yeah…" the voice responds quietly, almost sullen.
"Can we see you?" Grian asks, sitting on the floor and putting the spirit box on the ground. "Is it even possible?"
He waits for an answer that doesn't seem to come before turning to Gem. "I'll go tell the dads that we found the ghost," he tells her. "Keep asking questions for the camera?"
She nods and Grian leaves to go find their friends. He comes to a set of stairs with a chair lift attached to the wall. He starts to make his way up the stairs, shining his flashlight ahead. Right when he gets to the top, his foot slides out from under him and he falls, head colliding with the wooden floor. Then it all goes black.
Scar watches the ambulance drive off down the gravel driveway, the van following close behind. They'd left the rusted old sedan behind, likely to make sure they got there at a reasonable time. He'd seen how slow the car was. It was barely running.
He sinks to the ground with a sigh. The only people who had been to his house since his murder had just left and now…now he was alone again. He sinks to the floor. He hadn't been able to leave the house for a full three years. Three years without a soul to talk to was incredibly lonely. It had felt like an eternity. To think he still had till the end of time filled him with a feeling of despair.
He knows it was his fault that the man hit his head on the stairs. It was his stupid decorating that made him trip. That stupid rug at the top of the stairs that he got for his cat to lay on. No one had bothered to clean out the house, so everything had stayed as it was when he died. They hadn't even cleaned the blood stain. His eyes linger on the stain from where he bled out. He remembers how Jellie had curled up next to his head as he lay there dying. He hadn't even been able to get up to call for an ambulance. He misses her.
The ghost hunters hadn't even been there for half an hour before they were rushing to leave to get the man with glasses to a hospital.