Here we are, chapter one! Reviews are greatly appreciated as is constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story. The plot and the characters of Isabel and Derek Noble are of my own creation, but nothing else is.

Note: the address I have given the Murder House is the actual address of the house used for filming. I gave Marcy the last name of Huber as a reference to her character from Desperate Housewives.


CHAPTER ONE

Marcy Huber grinned, pleased with how the house was looking. Not a speck of dust was in sight. The place had been cleaned from top to bottom. It was such a shame, really. It was such a nice house with its six bedrooms, five bathrooms. If only no one had died here at 1120 Westchester Place; the house would sell within minutes. Alas, that wasn't the case. There had indeed been many deaths in this house, which kept buyers at bay.

But finally, Marcy had an appointment with a family that seemed interested enough to at least look at the house. And not just any family, but Derek Noble, the famous crime novelist and his daughter, Isabel. Surely it couldn't be all that hard to sell the Murder House to a crime novelist. And if Marcy did manage to make a deal, it would be the deal of the century.

At exactly three o'clock, the time of the appointment, there was a knock on the door. Marcy put on her best smile as she smoothed out her blazer. When she opened the door, she greeted the Nobles. "Hi, welcome," she said cheerfully. "Come on in." She stepped aside to let the pair in.

"Thanks for seeing us, Miss Huber," said Derek with his usual charming smile. In the eyes of many women, he looked like a dream with his bright teeth, constant five o'clock shadow and brown hair that always looked windswept because of his habit of running a hand through it.

"Please, call me Marcy," the realtor replied. She was intent on making this sale. If she closed this deal she would no longer be a joke among the others. Marcy smiled at Isobel as well and the sixteen-year-old smiled back but it was small and returned only out of politeness.

She led the pair through the foyer, down the hall, towards the kitchen. "The house has a lot of the original details, like these Tiffany fixtures," Marcy remarked. "Except for the kitchen, which has been modernized."

As Marcy said this, they entered the kitchen. It contrasted greatly with the rest of the Victorian styled home. And Derek seemed very interested. But not because of the design of the kitchen.

"The last people who lived here were the ones who redid the kitchen, weren't they?"

"Nothing gets past you, Mr. Noble," said Marcy with a chuckle.

Isabel wanted to roll her eyes. She knew what this realtor was doing: sucking up to the famous author. It was something that Isabel was used to witnessing but not something she liked seeing.

"Yes, the last couple redid the kitchen. It was the one room they wanted to update while keeping everything else original," Marcy continued. Derek looked around the kitchen, taking in every little detail. "You know, your last book about the Osage Indian murders was absolutely fascinating. I can only assume that you want to move into this house to write a book on the deaths that took place here."

Derek was not surprised to hear this. "Nothing gets past you, Marcy," he replied with a half grin, echoing her words from just moments before. "So how many deaths happened here? Obviously more than the two from last year, otherwise this place wouldn't be worthy of the Eternal Darkness Tour."

As the two adults continued talking, Isabel wandered off. It was a nice sized house. But she knew that none of that mattered. This wasn't about whether or not it was a good home. Isabel knew that her father would buy this house even if it was in shambles.

It was one of his writing methods. If he was going to write a book about a crime, he wanted to be as close to where the crime took place as possible. And they couldn't get any closer than living in the house where such crimes took place.

Isabel went upstairs, surprised that the steps didn't creak. Good structure, she thought to herself.

The upstairs was a rather boring, she would admit. A master bedroom, a few other bedrooms; everything she would expect in such a big house. She came to the end of the hall and looked up, seeing the cutout in the ceiling that would lead into the attic. Isabel did feel an urge to pull down the stairs and go up to investigate. But there would be time for that later.

"Iz, come on down!" Derek called to his daughter. The sixteen-year-old brunette went back down the stairs and as she descended the steps, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. She walked back into the kitchen and saw her father beaming. "What do you think?"

It didn't matter what she thought. They were moving in here anyway. Still, Isabel gave an approving grin. "It's perfect."

""''""""""""""'""""

A few days later, Adelaide was staring out of her bedroom window. She focused intently on the house next door, the one where she had lived once. So many had moved in since the house had first been built and so many of them had died. The house had to be getting quite full of residents. And she was sure that whoever was moving in now was going to meet the same fate as many did who lived in that house.

The family had arrived (a small one; only a father and daughter from the looks of it) and the movers had come to bring over and set up the furniture. When the movers had finally gone, Adelaide felt herself become restless. She wanted to see Tate and she wanted to meet the new neighbors. They had to know that they were probably going to die in that house.

Pretty much everyone did.

"''"""""''"""""''"""'

When the movers had gone, Derek had gone into library that he was turning into his workspace. Everything had to be absolutely perfect for his writing process to go accordingly. This left Isabel by herself to unpack some of the boxes in the kitchen; things like silverware and plates. Boring stuff.

From the corner of the kitchen, Moira watched Isabel, invisible to the girl for now. When Chad and Patrick had owned and lived in the house, she had not made herself known to them. It had been dreadfully boring, being unable to do anything while they had been alive. But now here was a family she could present herself to. Here was an opportunity to come out of hiding.

When Isabel finished unpacking the boxes in the kitchen, she headed towards the living room where there were even more boxes. As she rounded the corner though, she nearly collided with none other than Adelaide.

"You're going to die in this house," Addie warned her. It sounded more like threat than anything.

Isabel was stunned and confused, and could only gape at Addie, unsure of how to react. She nearly called out for her father when another stranger appeared.

"Now Adelaide, what have I told you?" Constance scolded as she walked up to her daughter. "You'd think God had made you deaf from the way you don't listen to me. Now go on home."

Addie gave Isabel one last look that came off as almost a glare before walking through the door in the kitchen that led to the backyard, on her way back home. She had just tried warning the new neighbor that she was in danger but her mother was getting in the way, just as always.

Constance waited until Adelaide was out of sight before turning her attention back to Isabel and giving her a smile that was not exactly friendly. "I'll have to apologize for her. No matter how hard I try, Addie always finds a way in this place. That girl just has a bug up her ass about this house."

There was a beat of silence as Isabel tried to just take in what the hell just happened. And now this woman was speaking to her about that Addie girl without even introducing herself. "Sorry but, who are you?"

The older woman gave a lighthearted laugh. "Silly of me to not say: I'm Constance. I live next door."

Well, that certainly did help Isabel feel a little better about the strangers in her new house. At least they were neighbors. "Oh, nice to meet you. I'm Is―"

"Again, sorry about Addie," Constance interrupted. "I really should be going though. Lord knows what trouble that girl will get into if I don't watch her." She gave another smile that did not reach her eyes. And then it faded as she met Isabel's gaze. "What did you say your name was?"

"Isabel," she answered. "Isabel Noble."