The sun was still hanging lazily in the sky when Ethan stepped off the bus, the wheels hissing against the gravel road as if the machine itself wanted to get away from this place. Nolite. The town he would call home for the next four years of his college life. A small town with too many old buildings and too few smiling faces.
Ethan adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, dragging along his oversized luggage in the other hand. His back already ached, his shirt clung to him in the late-afternoon heat, and he muttered to himself, "College life, they said. Freedom, they said. But no one warned me about the cardio."
He remembered his father's words before leaving. The memory rose in his head uninvited, like a bad ad on YouTube.
> "Hey kiddo, I found this house for very cheap. You can use it while you're in college. A real bargain!"
His father had tipped his hat with that signature smirk of his, the one that always suggested there was a punchline Ethan hadn't caught yet. And now, standing in front of the house, Ethan realized the punchline was him.
"Wow," Ethan muttered, staring at the crooked wooden structure. "A perfect genius sold this piece of garbage to the old man. Just… what the hell is this? A witch hut? Discount haunted mansion? Haunted Airbnb?"
The house was leaning slightly to the left, as if gravity itself wanted it gone but couldn't quite commit to murder. The entrance door sagged in its frame, daring him to touch it and watch it fall apart. A window had no glass at all, just an open hole where wind—or worse—could drift through. And yet, right there on the cracked stone porch, sat a perfectly neat welcome mat.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, sure. That's not suspicious at all. The house looks like it's two termites away from collapsing, but the mat looks like it came straight from a catalog. Totally fine. Nothing wrong here."
He heaved his bags, muttered something about needing hazard pay, and pushed open the door.
The inside of the house was no better. The smell of dust hit him first, followed by the creak of old wooden floors groaning beneath his sneakers.
"Let's see…" Ethan said aloud, tapping his chin dramatically. "Old furniture. Check. Repairable walls and floors. Check. Potential tetanus source. Double check."
He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened. His brain needed a second to reboot.
"Uh… a ghost. Check?"
Hovering by the staircase was a woman in a bloodstained white dress. She floated several feet off the ground, hair flowing unnaturally as though underwater. In her hand glimmered a long knife, red stains dripping down the blade. Her eyes glowed faintly as she turned toward him, head tilting at an angle that could not have been healthy in any human anatomy textbook.
Ethan blinked. Then rubbed his eyes. Then blinked again.
"Okay. Okay. Maybe it's, like, a hologram? College prank? Some neighbor kid with a projector?" His voice cracked as he pointed a trembling finger. "Because if that's a real ghost, I'm suing my dad for attempted murder."
The ghost hissed, drifting closer.
Ethan raised a finger like a strict teacher. "No. Nope. Don't you hiss at me like an angry cat. I just moved in, lady. At least give me one night to unpack before you start the murder-spree routine."
Her head spun. Literally spun. Around and around, like a discount horror-movie effect. Blood spilled from her mouth onto the floorboards.
"Fantastic," Ethan muttered, backing toward the door. "Just fantastic. I'll call an exorcist tomorrow. Maybe two. Hell, maybe three. Buy-one-get-one deals, right?"
He reached the door and grabbed the handle. Yanked. It didn't budge. Yanked again. Still nothing. Panic surged, his heart pounding like a drum.
Then he realized.
"Oh. I'm pulling instead of pushing. Classic." He pushed, and the door swung open with a cheerful creak.
"Ha! Who's the idiot now?" Ethan said to no one in particular. He dragged his bag out and stepped onto the porch—only to freeze when he saw the neat welcome mat again.
This time, the mat had words stitched across it in bright red thread.
STAY.
Ethan stared at it. Then back at the ghost still floating in the hallway. Then back at the mat.
He sighed. "Well. Shit."