sliceitwithwind | Haunted Housing

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Haunted Housing

In any given town there is always at least one house with a Certain Reputation. In the case of their town the house had two reputations, making it an excellent place for teenagers of all kinds to go hang out.

Yup, the local abandoned house was a haunted brothel. Drab on the outside, but the tales of the inner furnishings promised over-abundant decadence, and it was something of a rite of passage to go there. Break in during the day for hanky-panky, stay overnight for courage.

The brothel had been abandoned a good thirty years before, but nobody could ever figure out, through the tangle of legal red tape, who even had the right to tear it down. So it sat out on the inland edges of town.

Which is of course why Braig decided that since he and Dilan were back from college for the first break, they needed to drag Aya along to the haunted brothel as a bonding activity to make sure she knew that they still were a trio.

Cue camping gear, dusk, and Dilan giggling nervously.

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Blink.

Bliiiiiiink.

"You guys said it was just us." She was going to kill them. And whoever was whispering through the walls.

"I swear on my life, Aya, we're the only living things in this building." Dilan

"It never gets old, does it?"

"You take too much pleasure out of this, Veronique." Braig said, tapping his foot.

"Suuuurrrrrre." Because she was the gullible little sister right? Wrong. She carefully set the hat back in the box before she looked up to glare at the boys. Then she saw the ghost of course. Or rather, saw through the ghost.

A woman in a dress that might have been a rich, pettable velvet once but was now the faintest hint of dusty color. Most of her body was defined by the curves of the drapes she'd stepped through, shadows hinting at a figure that would make most women weep with jealousy. Dust drifted slowly through her, never reaching the floor, but held in her body like gentle static. The greatest amount of color the woman held was in her face and hair; those eyes were still a brilliant sapphire, those lips painted perfect red, and those dusted cheeks held the flush of good health amidst the soft waves of dark black hair.

Aya muttered something that sounded much like "Eh?"

"Aya, Veronique. Veronique, Aya Brea."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Brea. Your family is new, I take it?" her voice was like the colour of her dress; faded but soft. She smiled at Aya, and it was the kind of smile that you get from old friends who have just pulled one over on you.

Rather exactly like the ones that the boys were wearing. "She's cool, Aya! She's been here a long time!"

Aya swatted Braig's (he was closer) shoulder, hard. "You could have warned me!" Jerks. Both of them. Her skin was slowly trying to climb off her bones and they were smiling.

Manners, manners..."Uh...hi? Yes, my dad and I came here when I was six?"

"Nope, we couldn't."
"It's the way things are done Ayay!" Dilan informed her, moving closer and giving her a hug.

"Just one of those small-town coming of age things, deary."

Hello Dilan, Aya was going to cling, yes, after delivering his swat too. Her goosebumps had goosebumps and it wasn't exactly pleasant. She'd be okay, probably, as long as the ghost lady stayed over there!

"That's dumb." She pointed out. "What if I'd been holding a candle and dropped it?! warnings are a good idea!"

"This place has been burned a lot. We've got water with us." Dilan said while patting Aya's shoulder, "Anyway. Want to keep poking around, or go tell stories now that Veronique joined us?"

"I want to see the rest of the hats?" They'd gone through all the trouble of getting them down, it seemed like a shame to not open the boxes, ghost lady or no ghost lady.

"Umm...we...we're going to make a dress? Like these? Do you have a good one to recommend?" Aya asked, trying not to be rude to the new arrival.

"Okay!" Dilan was fine with that, although, "Ayay? Can I breathe now?"

Braig just laughs and laughs.

"None of the ones in this room, deary. The last room on the left, this floor, has some that are more fancy, less suited for a brothel."

Aya loosened her grip on Dilan a little, and kicked Braig's ankle for good measure. Yes, he could keep laughing, but it'd cost him!

"But...these are pretty?" Aya noted, then the last word sunk in. "We're in a brothel?!" The city haunted house was a whore house?! Bzuh...

"....the dresses are still pretty. I don't think I want to have a big hat like these though for the dress we make."

"Yeah, it used to be a brothel. Long, long time ago." Dilan agreed, shrugging. He didn't really see the big deal.

"Weren't they suppose to be illegal? I mean, how do you get a nice house like this if it's against the law?" She was not, usually, the most diplomatic person? And at fourteen, with her heart set on law enforcement, well, understanding how people had looked the other way could be important?

"Well, it was legal before it burned down." Dilan pointed out, laughing, "Laws against it weren't passed until later."

Aya looked around at the walls and ceiling. 'It doesn't look very burned down. Did they rebuild it afterward?"

"We're in the unburned part." Braig explained, "We don't go to the top floor, especially not on the other side."

"That's why there's a hole in the wall!" she announced in a cheerful bit of deduction. "You could have said so earlier, I thought one of your parties here got out of hand!" Or maybe not one of theirs, but of the groups of kids in general!

"Yup." Braig agreed, "And nope. No party, just trying to get people out when it was burning, you know?"

"Nasty drop." Aya noted, remembering how high up that hole in the wall had been. "But better than burning I guess."

She was still busily looking through the boxes, but she stilled when she got the cigar box open. "Hey...look at this." It was full of trinkets.

The ghost smiles benevolently at Aya, and starts telling stories about the owner of those trinkets, and her life.

Awww, the woman had been saving up to move elsewhere and marry! The delicate earrings in the box had belonged to her mother, the pictures were of her beau, a young man who wasn't a frequent patron of the house.

She hadn't made it out of the fire.

"Should we...bury these?" Aya asked, carefully tucking the things back in the box. it seemed kind of rude to be looking at them now.

"Nah." Braig said, "How else will later people know about her?"

The ghost smiled, sweetly, at Aya. Dilan hugged her (Aya, not the ghost) and said, "Yeah. Veronique tells stories about who you find, you know?"

"Yeah, but these were special to her you know?" She patted the lid firmly back on before hugging Dilan back. "Okay, help me get these back up into the closet." And then they could move on?

She had every intention of tucking that cigar box back carefully behind all the hat boxes again.

Braig moved into position to hold her up, "Well, yeah, but still. Better to know, man, than be forgotten."

Aya clambered back up on the skeletal chair and took boxes that were passed to her. "I don't know. I don't know if I want to be a story for people I don't know, you know?" It was kind of morbid?

"What next now?"

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