This is my first AHS I've ever written. So, please be kind.


When my family first arrived at our new home, I couldn't have been any more ecstatic. This place was huge! The price of the house, though, was very cheap, which meant that something was wrong with it. I thought the floorboards were broken, or the walls stunk, or maybe even ghosts roamed the halls of this old home. But when I entered the house for my very first time, everything was so serene. Nothing seemed out of place, or out of balance. My parents showed me my room, and within a few days, the main rooms in the house were stocked with all of our belongings. Everything was unpacked, and what ever else needed to be unpacked was put in the basement for unpacking later. My first few nights in the house were great, I've never slept better. Two weeks later, that's when things kind of got weird. For example, I put my hair brush down to text my friend back, and when I went to pick my hair brush back up, it wasn't where I put it - on my counter. It was on the floor. I thought I was going crazy, but I had convinced myself that it fell of the counter and I didn't hear it fall because I was so focused on texting. Yeah, that's it.

The fourth week staying at the house was the weirdest, and probably the scariest. I was sleeping, and woke up feeling hot. I was sweating like a pig. Immediately, I took a shower. God, I hate sweating. After I got out of the shower, I didn't put on my pajamas, I just put on a sports bra and running shorts, and slid under my covers. There, I thought to myself. I won't sweat now. That's when I heard footsteps coming from my bathroom, and I rolled out of bed so fast, grabbing my softball bat I had tucked under my bed. The bathroom door slammed shut and I covered my mouth, trying not to scream. My body thought for me, I took off towards my bedroom door, trying to leave my room. It was locked from the outside. That's impossible, though, because the lock is in the inside, facing me. Someone was holding the door. I was trapped. That's when I started banging on the door as hard as could. "MOM! DAD!" I screamed. "HELP!" I could feel my hands bruising up because of me banging them so hard on the damn door. They hurt so bad now. "HELP!"

"They can't hear you." Whoever it was, it was right behind me. I gripped my bat and swung. My bat hit the wall, leaving a dent in it. Whoops, how am I supposed to explain that to my parents? There was nothing behind me. I tried the door again, but still, it wouldn't open. Why didn't my parents come to me? Could they not hear me? "HELP!" I cried as loud as I could.

"Whoa!" his voice . . . he was back. I couldn't see him because I was facing the door. And I wouldn't dare turn around. "You almost hit me. Good swing, though. Looks like the wall took the hit for me. Ouch. Sorry, wall."

Without turning around, I hissed, "Get. The. Fuck. Out of my room!"

I heard him take steps towards me. My heart raced faster than a jet. He was literally right behind me, his lips hovering over my ear. I could feel his cold breath on the side of my head. "Why don't you turn around and say it?"

My clammy hands gripped my bat so hard, that there was no way in taking it from me. Slowly, I turned around. My heart raced faster. Who is this? Like before, there was no one there. Overwhelmed, I let my back hit the door behind me as I slid down towards the ground. "I'm going crazy," I said to myself. The air became slightly chillier than before, and I wouldn't dare move. I heard his footsteps, coming from beside my bed. And I saw him. Well, not him, but his silhouette. What came out of my mouth was a combination of a whimper, and the noise a puppy makes when it wants it mother. God, I was terrified. What the hell was going on? Was it the house? My head? Was I going crazy?

The next thing I knew, he was right in front of me. I couldn't see much, given that the only light in the room was the dim moonlight coming in through the windows. He was scary gorgeous. "Don't cry," he said, softly. With his finger, he lifted my chin up. I wasn't crying. But I was at the brink of doing so. It felt like something off of a nightmare. A gorgeous man fawning his victim, and then he kills her. I've seen it a few times in different movies, but I can't recall their names.

"You have pretty eyes," he says to me, cocking his head sideways. "Are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost." With those last few words, he smirked and took his fingers off my chin. "You shouldn't be afraid. I live here, too. And so do all the other unfortunate souls trapped in this house."

"Leave."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Stop playing with my head!"

He grabbed my softball bat, and tried to take it from me, but my grip was too strong. "Let go." When I didn't, he said, "Please." I looked into his eyes, trying to find some sort of sign that meant he was going to harm me. But I saw nothing. In his eyes, I saw that he was lost. Confused. Hurt. He didn't want to hurt anyone. I let go of my bat. After he got a good grip on it, he tossed it aside, letting it roll back under my bed. "I promise I won't hurt you." He extended his hand to me. "Hi, I'm Tate. I'm dead. Wanna be friends?"


Should I write another chapter? REVIEW!