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Nicole pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head and with a few bobby pins and a little talent, she pinned back her bangs in a small twist. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she ran her finger along the crack in the corner of it. Every time she looked in this mirror, she traced that small crack, the ridges memorized to her.
The hallway, with the kitchen at one end and the heavy front door at the other was dark, never well lit, like the rest of the house. The dark green wallpaper and dark wood lower paneling ran through out the house, except in her room, where she painted yellow, the cheeriest color she could think of. The old mirror in the hallway, the one with the crack, was just one of the many pieces of old furniture left behind in the old house. Nicole wished her mother had picked a more modern house, an apartment would have been better than this. Nicole’s mother worked two jobs to support Nicole and herself and buying an old house was her dream. She had her old house and now she worked harder than ever and barely got to enjoy it.
Nicole enter the kitchen, and grimaced at the sight of the old yellowed appliances and pale pastel green cupboards. She had begged her mother to fix up the kitchen, but her mother had stated that the kitchen was perfect how it was. Nicole stood in the doorway, staring at the grimy linoleum floor, when a cold breeze sent goose bumps up her spine. She felt someone behind her, their eyes burning into her neck. She glanced over her shoulder, only to see nothing but the empty hallway.
Nicole nervously exited the kitchen into the parlor, as her mother called it, and searched for the TV remote. The house was so quiet, she was imagining things and freaking herself out. As Nicole walked around the room slowly, looking for the black remote, something clattered behind her. Turning she noticed the remote on the ground beside the coffee table.
“That must be what made the falling sound.” She thought to herself as she bent over to pick it up. Her hand was inched from it, when another cold breeze came, chilling her fingers and pushing the remote under the couch. Frozen in disbelief and fear, Nicole closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pushing the aching cold from her chest. Standing up straight Nicole turned to leave, deciding she was going to take a walk, and let out a small cry. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, was a boy dressed in a dark coat and pants. His face was pale and his dark brown hair hung in his face, but his electric blue eyes shone out, staring at her face.
“W-wh-who are you,” she finally asked her arms wrapped around her self, trying to hold herself together.
“Nicole, don’t be so afraid.” The boy’s voice was like ice as it floated to her ears and she shivered.
“Who are you?” She asked again, strength returning to her voice.
“My name is Christopher.”
“Wh-what are you doing here? How did you get in my house?” She asked, trembling noticeably now.
“Nicole, don’t be afraid. I don’t want you to be scared of me.” He closed the space between them, his white face inches from hers. She sucked in a cold breath and felt like her blood was turning to ice.
“I used to live here, long ago. Me and my family did. Then, when I was 15, I got really sick, I don’t remember much of it, but I eventually died from...”
“I don’t believe in ghost!” Nicole screamed and stumbled backwards, locking eyes with Christopher. The room was spinning around her, making her feel dizzy, but those eyes stayed in place. Anger filled his eyes and he looked like he would kill her. Fear flooded Nicole’s veins.
“Wrong answer, Nicole.” and the boy disappeared. The dizziness faded and Nicole collapsed on the sofa, tears pouring out of her eyes.