Annabeth's Home

There was nothing in the world Annabeth loved more than her house. It had been in her family for four generations, built by her great-grandfather's own hands. Annabeth was born in that house, and she planned to die in it someday. Every room was meticulously decorated to her liking; each stick of furniture and knickknack placed in exactly the right spot. Everything was absolutely perfect... until one day, it wasn't.

It started out with small things: a ceramic figurine moved a bit to the left; rumpled sheets on the guest bedroom's bed; drawers and cabinets left slightly ajar when Annabeth was sure she'd closed them. At first, she'd thought Lucinda the maid was just getting sloppy. When she heard footsteps creaking around the house at two a.m., however, Annabeth realized her problem was bigger than a careless maid.

The day after she first heard the mysterious footsteps, more troubling signs appeared. Large pieces of furniture in the drawing room and foyer had been moved without her knowledge or consent. Of course, she put them back where they belonged, but they were moved again the following morning. A few days later, the sitting room rug vanished and another was put in its place. Annabeth was so distressed, she flew into a fit and poured paint all over the ugly thing. Thankfully, it was taken away the next morning, but hers had yet to return. The straw that broke the camel's back was a large, gaudy mirror that appeared in the upstairs hall, frightening her half to death with her own reflection. Annabeth again solved the problem, throwing it down the stairs that same minute.

Although she'd removed the out of place items, Annabeth could no longer ignore the obvious: someone else was living in her house, and moving her things. That was something she just would not tolerate.

The following night, Annabeth lay awake in her bed until she heard the footsteps again: two a.m., right on the button. This time, instead of covering her head with the blankets and ignoring them, she got up to investigate. Upon stepping into the hall, Annabeth had the fright of her life. A young woman in a white dress stood five feet from her, glowing with a strange white light. The apparition screamed at Annabeth at the top of her lungs, but Annabeth would not be frightened so easily. "Get out of my house!" she ordered, trying to quell the tremble of fear in her voice. The apparition vanished, thank goodness, and Annabeth dove back into her room, locking the door behind her.

Annabeth didn't sleep for the rest of the night. She'd never seen anything like that young woman before... but she couldn't be a ghost. Ghosts didn't exist. At dawn, Annabeth heard a quiet voice downstairs. Steeling her nerves, she slipped out of her room and followed it to the dining room. It was the same young woman, pacing and talking to herself.

"Yes... I think my house is haunted," she said.