This story is set around 1990 or 1991.
"Look, I'm telling you, it'll be cool!" Alfred exclaimed. "Right, Mattie? You agree, right?"
Matthew looked over at his twin. "Well . . . honestly, I don't really care if we go or not, but if you want me to come . . ."
"Really though, a haunted house?" Arthur said skeptically, setting his lunch tray aside. "We've all heard the rumors, but who's to say they're true?"
"I wouldn't mind exploring it," Francis admitted. "We could find some neat things. But what if the floor is rotting or something? It could be dangerous. That house must've been abandoned for a reason."
"Dude, it'll be fine!" Alfred said, waving an impatient hand. "Look, there are a whole bunch of wood houses with wood floors and stuff, and they might be a bit creaky, but they're probably not rotten or dangerous! The only thing we have to worry about is ghosts!"
"Right," Arthur said, still skeptical. "Say that there are . . . malicious ghosts. What would you do?"
"Run like hell," Alfred said promptly. "Dude, if one of us sees a ghost, then we yell or something, and everyone runs!"
Arthur sighed. "God, my migraine's coming back . . . you three can do what you like."
"Artie, you gotta come!" Alfred insisted. "Francis and Mattie are coming too, right?"
He looked expectantly at the other two. Francis seemed to have been convinced and Matthew shrugged.
"Like I said . . ." he said, "I'll come along if you want."
"See, Artie?" Alfred said triumphantly. "You gotta come with us!"
"Why!?"
"Look," Alfred said patiently. "The more, the merrier."
. . .
"That's it."
Arthur groaned. "Alright, I'll come along."
Alfred cheered. "Don't even worry about it, Artie, this'll be great! Today at three?"
"I really don't give a damn."
"Sweet! Three it is!"
"Okay," Alfred said. "Do we all got our ghost-busting gear?"
Francis shrugged. "I haven't seen that movie in a while. I don't have a vacuum, if that's what you mean."
"Just something to defend yourself with," Alfred explained. He held up a small pocketknife. "Me and Mattie got our penknives, so we can totally stab ghosts if they come after us."
"Aren't ghosts supposed to be intangible?" Arthur muttered. "Anyway, I didn't bring anything of the sort."
Francis shrugged. "Me either. I suppose I'll have to ward off the ghosts with my charming looks!" He smirked.
"But, like, if the ghosts liked how you looked, wouldn't that just make them go to you?" Alfred asked. "Oh, wait, that'd make them easier to stab! Yeah, good idea, Francis!"
Francis frowned. "Not what I had in mind, but I can work with it."
"So are we going?" Arthur demanded, folding his arms impatiently.
"Yeah, yeah, totally," Alfred said.
The house they were in front of was as decrepit as ever. Cobwebs adorned the front porch like Halloween decorations, and the rocking chair which had once rested near the door was long gone. A window upstairs was shattered, and the porch creaked as Alfred led the group up to the front door.
They went inside one-by-one. Almost the instant he stepped in, Arthur clapped a hand to his mouth and backed out quickly.
"Artie, what's wrong?" Alfred asked, turning in surprise to his friend.
"Arthur?" Matthew asked softly, but he was heard by no one.
"I—my head—oh, god—" Arthur groaned in pain. "Horrible migraine—my stomach—"
"Alright, you big faker, just wait out here," Alfred said, rolling his eyes. "We'll be back soon."
Matthew threw another concerned glance back at Arthur as he stumbled back from the house and sat heavily on the sidewalk.
"Right, let's stick together," Alfred said. "Mattie, get your penknife ready." He got out his own, the blade poised to strike. "Francis, do a sexy dance or something to attract the ghosts. The second they appear, we're all either gonna run away screaming or me and Mattie'll be heroes and stab them and kill them dead."
"What if the ghosts are male?" Francis asked. "Not that I'd be against that . . ."
"Well, maybe they're into that kinda thing," Alfred said. "Go for it."
The three cautiously entered a room, the floor creaking loudly under their feet.
The room felt oddly cold. In one corner was a small bureau, right next to the window covered with thick red curtains. Marks on the floor marked where a bed had once been, and everything was covered with a thick layer of dust.
Francis and Matthew shivered.
"Should've brought jackets or something," Francis muttered.
"Okay, Francis, go for it," Alfred said, ignoring him.
Francis rolled his eyes and stepped to the middle of the room. With a glance back at the two by the door, he placed his hands on his hips and wiggled them a bit.
"Good?" he asked.
"A little more," Alfred said, eyes darting around the room.
Francis did it again. Nothing happened.
"Well, either the ghosts aren't into you, or there aren't any," Alfred said disappointedly. "C'mon, let's go."
"I want to look over there," Matthew said quietly as Alfred and Francis left. "I thought I saw something move . . ."
They ignored him and shut the door behind them. Matthew sighed.
He approached the small bureau slowly, expecting to find a mouse or another small rodent. He bent to check beneath the dresser but found nothing. As he straightened up, he heard something behind him and turned around—
"Okay, these ghosts must be real prudes," Alfred said. "Because that was the sexiest dance I've ever seen, and I'm a guy. Hell, I think I'm falling for you."
Francis scowled. "You're not my type."
Alfred grinned. "Me either. My type usually has, y'know—" he made a rounding motion over his chest. "Hey, did we forget something?"
"Hm?"
"I feel like we're forgetting something important—oh, Mattie!"
"Ah, right, we left him back there," Francis exclaimed. "How do you keep forgetting your own brother, Alfred?"
"You forgot too," Alfred snapped. "I thought I heard him say something about looking somewhere . . . he's probably still in that room . . ."
They went back to the first room and opened the door.
Matthew was lying still on the floor near the bureau. He was face-down in the dust and did not react to the door opening.
"Shit, Mattie!" Alfred rushed forward and shook his twin's shoulder. "Mattie, get up! Mattie!?"
"Mm . . ."
Matthew stirred and lifted his head slightly. "Al . . . ?" he murmured.
"Oh, thank god—" Alfred motioned Francis forward and they helped Matthew sit up. "Mattie, what happened!?"
Matthew put a hand to his head, blinking himself awake. "I guess I slipped . . . and hit my head . . . I've got a headache . . ."
"Maybe we should go," Francis suggested. "Matthew's not feeling well and Arthur's still waiting outside."
"Yeah, I guess," Alfred agreed. He helped Matthew up and the three of them left.
When they came outside, they saw Arthur still sitting on the sidewalk outside. He looked up when he heard the porch creaking and stood.
"Are you all okay?" he demanded.
"Mattie fell and hit his head," Alfred said, gesturing to his twin, who still had a hand on his temple. "We were thinking that we should go home now."
"Well, I'm glad you all are safe," Arthur said in relief. "When I stepped into that house . . ."
"Yeah, yeah, you big faker," Alfred said dismissively.
"Are your parents still gone?" Francis asked.
"Yeah, you know them, they'll be gone for a few more months," Alfred said.
"I was going to say, if they're still gone, you should probably get a doctor to look at Matthew," Francis said.
"Nah, Mattie's tough, right Mattie? You'll be fine, right?"
"I think so," Matthew said softly. "I probably just need rest."
"See, he'll be fine."
The four of them went their separate ways back home.
Come back Sunday for a new chapter!