I genuinelly hate myself for starting this but I couldn't resist. Bringing back the old horror fics. I don't know if this is cliche, it probably is but I don't care. Blame the prompt that inspired me to right this. One day my muse will go away and I'll stop being harassed by ideas that I never finish. Anyway, as usual, I hope you like this. Depending on what you say, I might carry this on so if you want to know what happens, tell me in the reviews pleeaaaseeee!
It was a chance for a fresh start. A chance to start again. To leave old memories behind them and move on with their lives, find something new.
He didn't want to forget Marian, didn't want his son to forget his mother but her death had hit the both of them hard. Roland's grades had began slacking in school, Robin found himself becoming a deadbeat father, uncaring of what trouble his son was getting up to. Had it not been for John, he'd probably be buried alongside Marian and Roland in some foster system. It had been John who'd suggested they move house, create new memories for the two of them, begin a new life. They'd never forget Marian, she was a big part of both their lives, but they couldn't stay in the life she left behind, it was too much for the both of them.
When the offer for a house in Maine, near a small town called Storybrooke, had presented itself to Robin, he just knew he had to take it. Some gut instinct told him it was right and while it did mean moving from one side of the country to another, it felt right- a good decision in a sea of bad ones he'd made in the past year.
Roland, his son, wasn't so enthusiastic. Robin understood, this was his home, had been his home all his life, he made friends here, good friends, and now he had to leave them. It took some coaxing, a promise buying a whole new batch of stuff when they got to the house, but it had worked. Roland was packed, his room empty of his life, all eight years squished down into two small suitcases and a backpack.
It had been sad leaving, jumping in the car and slowly reversing, watching the house move further and further away but it was for the best, Robin kept telling himself. It was for the best.
And he's not disappointed when he arrives. It's definitely as big as the newspaper had said it was. A good front yard to play in, probably an excellent back on, too. Nice tall bushes to give them and the house the privacy they needed, and a sturdy iron gate. Robin was pleased. Very pleased.
On the side walk just outside the house stands a man; dressed in a suit and holding a golden lion head cane. He's grey-haired but doesn't look too old and Robin can only guess that he's the real estate agent Robin was told to contact. Well, they are quick around here, aren't they?
He opens the car door, giving a 'one minute' finger up to the agent, and opening the back seat door, nudging Roland, who had fallen asleep about an hour into their journey.
"Ar' we 'ere?" the boy asks, rubbing his eyes awake.
"We are." says Robin, with a smile, moving out of the way so Roland can get a clear view of the house.
"It's so big!" Roland exclaims, all tiredness gone from his voice. He climbs out of the car, running up to the gate and pressing his nose against the bar. Robin laughs, shutting the car door and locking it before walking over to the agent.
"Mr Locksley?" the man asks. "I'm Mr Gold, I believe we spoke on the phone."
Robin shakes the man's hand. "Yes, that's me."
"Good," Gold drops his hand. "Shall we go inside?"
They walk over to the gate and Robin pries Roland off it, telling him We're going in now to which the boy's eyes light up as he grabs Robin's hand and the gate is opened.
Here they're able to take a good look at the house. For its age, it's pretty well kept, the white paint looks new, not one part peeling, it isn't overgrown with vines and the garden is well mowed. It's almost like someone lives here still, tending to its needs.
"It's well looked after," Robin comments. Roland's ran ahead now, desperate to get a luck in. Surprising for someone who didn't want to leave their old house.
"We wanted to honour the original owners," Gold says, his cane tapping alongside the pavement as they continue walking. "People often come around every so often to keep it to its former glory."
"Why?"
The man shifts uncomfortably, adjusting his grip on his cane. "We'll discuss all that inside." he says and Robin nods, looking back towards his son who's waiting on the porch.
It is curious thing as to why they would keep a house tidied up. And what was just as curious was the price of the house: Robin imagined a good $5,000 yet this had been knocked right down to $1,039, a price that had Robin unbelieving until he called up to make sure that yes, that was the price. He made a mental note to ask Gold why that was the case later.
They make the rest of the way in silence, all the way to the door to which Roland shuffles out of the way, allowing Gold to unlock it.
The inside is just as impressive as the outside. Spacious, lots of downstairs rooms. Easily to get in and out of. It was empty- almost all its furniture having being cleared out at some point but it's space definitely made it easy to get their own furniture in, something that was happening later on.
Roland's began to wander off, being drawn to a door beside him, fighting to get it open. Robin leaves him, he'll soon become bored once he can't get it open and turns to Gold instead.
"There's just one thing I want to know," Robin says. "Why is the price so low if you have people looking after the place?"
He watches Gold glance around nervously, eyes landing on Roland for a second before looking back at Robin.
"I think this conversation is best away from little boys." he says and Robin frowns, unsure what it is that can't be said in front of Roland but still, he turns back around to the boy.
"Roland, why don't you, uh, go upstairs. Choose what bedroom you want."
Roland turns away from the door, eyeing Robin suspiciously before nodding, Okay, and running upstairs.
He turns back to Gold, "Go on."
"The house hasn't had many people interested. A lot of people in Storybrooke know the story and therefore won't buy the house. It's a tale, many believe, but tales do have some truth in them."
Robin feels his insides twist, biting his lip. "And what's the tale?"
The man shakes his head, a smiling breaking out, one that looks rare and only seems to happen on rare occasions.
"Well, Mr Locksley, the tale is that once a couple lived here, with their ten year old daughter and their eight year old son. A perfect couple, if you ignored their age differences but, just like most things, they weren't perfect, far from it. Not many details are given about what happened, all people know is that in that room there-" he points towards the door, the one his son was so interested in, and feels his cold run cold, his insides twist even more, stomach pooling into dead. "- The man brutally murdered his wife and their son witnessed the whole thing. The boy fled, leaving the house and never returning and the daughter, well she believed her father could do no wrong. He forbade her from ever going into the basement and told the girl that her stepmother and brother had left them. She believed him, never once questioning the story. That is my the house is so low, in an attempt to gain popularity. It's a nice house, a perfect house, but a dark past accompanies it."
Robin stands, stunned, feeling sick to his stomach at the story, his eyes stuck on the door to the basement. Was her body still down there? Was it nothing but a forgotten skeleton now? Is that why the door was locked? Maybe it was a tale after all, nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. He was a brave man, he'd heard many ghost tales as a boy and none had really scared him. Tales have truth but the husband could have easily been arrested, the woman's body easily taken out of the basement and put in the ground. Yes, there was nothing to fear.
"I'll still take the house, Mr Gold." Robin says, voice hardening. He won't be scared off by some little ghost story.
"Very well," Gold says, handling Robin the keys. "Welcome to Storybrooke."
