The Haunting (Or: Ghost Is Literally A Ghost)

Day Six

You were almost delightfully surprised when you woke up well rested at ten in the morning, while the birds were chirping and the autumn sun tried its best to push through the thick clouds.

Alongside the deep relaxation, you felt a sudden flash of creativity rippling through your veins that made you jump out of the bed like a bouncing ball, walking down the stairs with a light step to grab your laptop.

Sitting in your usual spot at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, you started pouring the words from your mind onto the keyboard, spending a good few hours on your novel until you were satisfied with the outcome.

Your ideas were connected to the dream you had last night, of you summoning a ghost in your living room. To be fair on your raging mind, the dream did feel pretty vivid.

And then you froze.

"Hold on", you mumbled to yourself, leaping from the chair and walking straight into the living room.

There it was, a mug on the wooden floor next to the desk, evenly split in two large chunks that were adorned by a coffee stain.

"No wonder that dream felt so real", you scoffed.

You stood in the spot where you had been the night before, watching Simon scribbling on the paper, and alas, as you looked down there it was, also very fucking real.

To your surprise, you weren't scared or unsettled at all.

You remembered the pain in his eyes, peering down on you with this gaze, warmth carried within despite the coldness surrounding him.

"His mask..."

A skull mask to be precise, which you didn't remember seeing anywhere at all. It would have definitely struck your interest if you had.

In fairness, he had seemed very sure about still wearing it when he died, and there was no reason he would have lied because he had now asked you for your help twice.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you, that type of thing.

And if it wasn't in the house... You put on your boots and a warm coat, determined to have a look around the garden and the grounds, starting where you found the dog tag.

Thanks to the gardening that you had done some days ago, the grass at the front of the house was already cut back, but you neither found a mask in the few bushes around the front patio.

Nothing, anywhere.

Half an hour later, you had combed through the entire property, and the crisp, cold air seeped through your leggings, goosebumps painfully rubbing against the material.

"Fuck."

You were annoyed first of all, and frustrated, your bottom lip mindlessly caught between your teeth as you wiped your wet boots on the doormat before stashing them away.

Unsure about how to proceed, you decided that you would clean up the mess on the living room floor first, because the best ideas always came when you weren't forcing them out and frankly speaking, the mess bothered you anyways.

Maybe I can still save the floor, you thought as you picked up the shredded porcelain.

Then your brows furrowed and you moved your hand back an inch. You could have sworn that you just felt a gust of cold air going past your fingers, coming from the narrow slits between the floorboards.

"Weird..."

You tested the spot again, and again, and again, fearing that your mind was just going nuts after yesterday night, but the result was always the same.