“Don’t worry mum, the minute I get a job I will move out,” said Lesley to her weeping mother. “It is just for a small time, and I can make it more homely!”

“That’s my daughter, the ever-optimistic” said Lesley’s’ father. Lesley always remembered never to make her mother sad; being optimistic at least consoled her in a small way. “But Lesley, we can give you money for a better home; you don’t have to live like a wealthy vagrant”. Lesley sighed, her father always contradicted himself it used to annoy her as a little girl but I guess she got used to it.

“Dad, I am in college now, with a scholarship, I need to pave my own path in life and like you always have said ‘to be big you must begin small’ “. She always knew that his quotes were his weak card, and as predicted, he folded.

“Yes...I guess I did say that, well it’s good you’re taking something from me, go and be great Lesley” he thrust out his hand, like a true business man, Lesley pummelled her own fist into her fathers’. “I’ll be waiting in the car, call if you need anything”. Her mother was lost for words and just kept crying as she walked off with her husband.

Lesley breathed a sigh of relief as she began to bend down and picked up a heavy box of all her things. She knew that the home she bought was the cheapest thing near the college; she also knew that people thought that this home was haunted......like that’s going to scare her away.
Ghosts, spectres they aren’t real, they are just thing she heard around campfires, a figment of somebody’s imagination in overdrive. As she walked up creaky wooden planks, a sorry excuse for stairs, and pushed the door open. The entryway was filled with old dusty paintings and old fashioned counter tops, a Victorian manor. She set down the box and explored around the house, the sitting room had elegant long peony gold rimmed sofas.
Faces of old greying men with fat moustaches staring her down and women with jowls that reached the floor grimacing at the artist, looking at her with a disapproving demeanour. There was just one young face, a boy about her age brown neatly combed hair, pearly pink lips and ethereal features. He was like a prince out of a fairytale book that her mother used to read her when she was little. But after sitting in that room she felt she didn’t belong and the eyes were staring her down

“Okay, when they meant old, I didn’t think THIS old!” murmured Lesley. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud creak coming from the entryway. Through sheer instinct, she brandished a lamp from the sitting area as she slowly crept up to the entryway. She hesitated, then like a banshee ran out of the shadows and charged towards the door. Then in just a few seconds she was out in the sunlight, with a whole audience watching her every move in surprise.

“Oh,” stuttered Lesley, “Umm, I just was bringing this outside—and----yeah?” she stuttered, confused. She set down the lamp and turned on her heels back into the shadowed house. “Did I just imagine it? Was it my fears? Or was it real?” Lesley asked herself, her shaking hand to her forehead. She took deep breaths and walked back to the boxes and got herself busy.

“If I want to make this house look good, better get busy” she said, but the creak was still at the back of her mind. She found her way into the kitchen and dumped her lumpy food processor on the glossy counter top and got to work with making some salad. Of course none of the vegetables she had were appropriate; she sighed and went over to the entryway to grab her cell phone.

“Yes, hello, one pepperoni pizza, 15 minutes, right, thanks” she gabbled into the phone.