Chapter One
I never used to believe in ghosts. Sure, I'd seen a couple of horror flicks and had the occasional spooky encounter as a kid, but they were always just that—spooky, not real. I'd had always figured that if there were any real ghosts out there, they'd have better things to do than hang around scaring the crap out of people. But here I was, a grown adult, shaking in my Doc Martens.
The old building had an eerie charm, despite its creaking floorboards and the way the lights flickered in the hallway. It was a stark contrast to the bustling streets of New York City outside, an old, creaky apartment with peeling wallpaper and the smell of stale cookies that never quite went away. It was the kind of place you'd expect to find in a Stephen King novel, minus the blood and guts. But here I was, keys in hand, ready to make it my own.
I opened the door, and coughed as I walked into the dust-covered room that was to be my new home. It was like someone had paused time in the '70s and forgot to hit play again. The wallpaper was a garish floral pattern that looked like it was fighting the carpet for the title of 'World's Ugliest'. But it was cheap, and that was all that mattered to me at the moment. I tossed my bag on the floor and took a deep breath. Then coughed out my lungs due to the dust.
Then I heard someone else cough.
"What the heck?!" I said, whipping my head around. A girl stood in the darkest corner of the room. She looked like she'd stepped out of a '90s grunge band poster, complete with the flannel shirt and ripped jeans. Her short boyish hair was messy, but in a good way. It was her eyes that got me though—pale and piercing, they shimmered in ice blue.
"Is that how you usually greet people or am I the exception?" she asked. Her voice was light, with a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. She stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light from the single bulb that was swinging slightly above our heads. It was then I noticed a problem. I could see through her.
I mentally googled my brain, trying to remember... oh! She must be my roommate. The one the landlord mentioned but forgot to mention was a ghost. Classic New York apartment move-in. "Oh, sorry," I stuttered, trying to play it cool. "Just didn't expect the welcoming committee to be... transparent."
"Oh. That... Yeah. I guess that's a new one," she said, her smirk widening into a grin. "But hey, I'm Bailey. Your... uh, spectral roommate?"
"Rowen," I said, extending a hand that passed right through hers. "Nice to meet you, I think?". I had no idea what to do. I picked up my suitcase and walked into what I assumed to be a bedroom. There was a mattress on the floor, a couple of blankets, and a sad lamp that looked like it was about to wave the white flag.
I sighed, and started to unpack. Suddenly, I felt the hairs on my neck stand up, I somehow knew Bailey had followed me into the room. "So, how does this whole ghost-roommate thing work?" I asked. "Well, I can't eat your food or pay rent, but I can keep the place interesting," she said, floating over to the window. She pushed it open with a gentle wave of her hand, letting in a gust of chilly air. "But I'm not a fan of mess, so keep it tidy, yeah?"
I rolled my eyes, and said, "No worries, I'm not exactly Martha Stewart, but I can manage not to leave pizza crusts on the floor for eternity." She giggled, a sound that was eerily beautiful. It sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
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