You were a Ghost. You lived in the 1800s and you haunted a Quant home off the road in a small forest of Berkshire, England. You lived alone, your wispy figure roaming the home day and night. You never slept, but you occasionally glanced out the foggy windows to look at the animals. How wonderful it could be to be as free as a rabbit... or anything, for that matter. You assumed you were destined to "live" alone..

Until now.

°☆*~~

A man named.. "Ghost", he called himself, began to occupy the house. You tried to get his attention, pushing over books, flickering on his lights, anything you could do to get his attention. But none of it worked. But maybe today would be different...?

He sat in the parlour, his feet resting on the tea table that had sat there since you haunted this home, casually holding a round black box that controlled a light up screen. A.. Roku? Odd.

Your pale, semi-transparent hand met a random book and you pushed it off the tea table, the sound of it clattering to the floor filling the quiet, small home.

Ghost reached down to grab the book, grumbling about how his items just keep.. "falling", before sitting up again. But... his head met the wood of the tea table and he banged his head. Ow.

He squeezed his brown eyes shut, wincing and groaning as he grabbed a handful of his hair and huffed. You stood there, staring blankly as this poor guy got hurt because of you. But he opened his eyes and they widened before he jumped back in his seat. How did he see you..?