AN: WARNINGS AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER - if you have triggers involving abuse, READ THEM.
This started out as a funny little ditty and turned kinda not so funny very quickly.
Disclaimer:
I own nothing you recognise. This is all completely un-beta'd and totally fresh off the top of my brain!
It is a cold winter's night. Outside, the wind screams through the trees and the corrugated fence groans its complaints. Inside, the lights flicker. The dresser rattles. From the rafters comes a ghostly voice.
"WooooOOoooooo," it says. "WooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!"
Dennis smacks his hand to his pillow. "Fuckoff, Clarence, I'm trying to sleep!"
The lights stop flickering. The dresser stops rattling. The rafters stop moaning. "You should be more supportive of my efforts! I'm still learning, you know," a young voice says.
"Yeah, well, not at three am, please," Dennis tells the ceiling. "And I've got work tomorrow. Can we at least keep the poltergeisting to slightly more reasonable hours?"
There's a long moment of silence. Long enough for Dennis to begin drifting off to sleep.
"Alright," Clarence reluctantly agrees. The light switches off.
Morning arrives with a torrential downpour that wakes Dennis up before his alarm can. He rolls over. His alarm goes off. He swears and slams his forehead into his pillow repeatedly. It's nut-shrinkingly-cold out of his bed and the last thing in the world he wants to do is get up.
But he does. And jumps straight into his incredibly warm polar fleece onesie and uggies and pulls the hood up over his cold ears. Goes straight to the toilet to relieve his pressing bladder.
Clarence pops his head through the wall and Dennis jerks to the left, spraying pee all over the seat and floor.
"Jesus fucking christ on a broomstick, Clarence!" Dennis howls, quickly stuffing himself back into his boxer shorts and doing up the button on his onesie. "You prepubescent brat! You're too young to see my saggy balls!" Clarence laughs and retracts his head. Dennis looks at the mess of piss and groans. "I keep telling you you could be a useful and functional member of Wizarding society!" He hears a wet raspberry from somewhere above his head.
Dennis had rented this muggo property off a muggo realtor who had failed to mention one very important thing. The property had been renovated after the last family had lived in it. This family consisted of a mother, her eight year old son, and her boyfriend. The boyfriend which had, in a fit of rage, beaten the mother black and blue before turning his attention to the screaming child.
No one had told the muggo child he wouldn't become a ghost. So he did.
To be totally fair on Clarence, usually he is much better than this. He'd just decided two days ago that he was going to become a poltergeist. It was all down hill from there. Dennis knows he should be supportive of whatever Clarence decides to do – he's just a kid – but there's only so much he can take. Especially when he hadn't rented the place expecting anything like … this.
Dennis sighs, grabs the spray bottle of Dettol, and gets to cleaning.
WARNINGS (READ THESE): mention of child abuse; mention of male-on-female abuse; mention of murder of child.
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