So, you can imagine the horror of the town's people when they saw a moving van parked outside of the grand Victorian house. A family was moving in, much to everyone's disgust. It was almost as if they wanted the house to be empty forever more so it would add to the eeriness of the ghostly tales they shared. Now that someone was moving in it would ruin that atmosphere forever and many of the old locals also said that the stories would be proved wrong and they would lose all tourism completely. The town was unhappy about its new residents.
There was a conversation going on at the town's pub, The Three Vines. Many of the town's people had gathered to give their opinions about the new family. There were about twenty of them, taking up three tables in the corner. An elderly lady dressed in a smart red suit spoke up.
"I think we should make them feel welcome. After all, maybe something strange will happen with the house, and the stories will be proven to be true?"
"Now, Edith, don't be silly," piped up a large, bearded man, "We all know that the stories are purely fictional. There is no ounce of truth in them. Everyone knows that there is no such things as ghosts!"
"I don't agree, Derek. I think ghosts are as real as you and me." She replied, puffing herself up importantly.
"Pull yourself together woman!"
"How dare you talk to me like that!?"
Edith was clutching her cherry red handbag dangerously, but another man stood up and moved between the two of them. This man was younger then Derek and was clean-shaven, with longer dark hair in a ponytail.
"Calm down, you two." He said firmly. "Derek, I agree with my mother. We should make them feel at home here. Whether we like it or not, these people are now part of this town."
"See? At least James has a good head on his shoulders." Edith said, smiling proudly at her son before sitting down and placing her handbag onto the tiled floor.
Derek and James sat back too and the conversation turned to other things, that at this moment in time, seemed trivial and unimportant.
Pippa was in her new room, sitting quietly on a battered mattress. It was the only thing in the large and draughty room. The old floral wallpaper was stained and peeling and the wooden floorboards were slightly warped. She didn't feel at all safe and wondered if the floor would take the weight of the rest of the furniture that her dad was going to bring up soon.
She sighed and took out a small notepad and pen from the large front pocket of her grey hoodie. She didn't really like hoodies, but it kept her warm in the cold December months and had a large enough pocket for her precious notepad.
She looked down her slightly crooked nose at the blank ruled paper and adjusted her glasses. She wanted to write something. Anything. But writers block had captured her and refused to let go.
"Pippa! Pippa, come and help your dad unload the van, love." Her mother called up to her. Pippa moaned. She put the notepad and pen aside and stood up, stepping off of the mattress before shuffling carefully out of the room and down the creaky and dangerous looking stairs.
That night, the house was silent as the family slept peacefully and calmly. Pippa dreamt pleasant dreams and was undisturbed. Until she felt and odd sort of tickling on her forehead. It felt like someone with a feather irritating her and waking her up. She batted it away absent mindedly and tiredly, but to her dismay it only moved to her nose. A frightening thought struck her and her brown eyes shot open. She found herself staring up at a very large house spider, perched snugly on her freckled nose.
She shrieked loudly and grabbed the spider, throwing it to the floor and running hysterically out of the room, tripping on a warped floorboard and landing face down on the hard floor. Her mother, Janice, opened the door of her bedroom.
"Pippa, what the hell do you think you're doing? It's three in the morning!"
Life in the house didn't improve.