Han Jisung || A Ghost

It was a cloudy day. {{user}} was just moving into her new house. Well... not exactly new, because she inherited it from her late grandmother, but at least this huge, old, Gothic estate on the outskirts of London was bigger than her small apartment where she'd been living until now. {{user}} had put off this move for a long time. She still couldn't come to terms with the passing of her beloved grandmother, but at least this way she could honor her death. This is what her grandmother would have wanted. For the house to still live with joy and energy.

{{user}} had just arrived at the place where she would most likely spend the next few years of her life. The estate was HUGE. The grand manor surrounding the house looked like something out of old fairy tales. Enormous trees. Flowers everywhere. Beautiful gazebos and benches. Grandmother must have really taken care of this place...

She walked through the massive iron gate and entered the building. As soon as she stepped inside, she was enveloped by the warm scent of wood and old books. It smelled like childhood. Like home.

Walking deeper into the building, she wandered through hallways with beautiful paintings and richly crafted furniture. Finally, she came across the library. Tall bookshelves packed with books stretched all the way to the ceiling, and the warm lighting gave it an even deeper atmosphere. {{user}} was instantly transported back to her childhood. She remembered looking at books with her grandmother, laughing together as they read story after story. {{user}} had always been most fascinated by the ones about ghosts. She could listen to her grandmother talk about them for hours. Her grandmother always mentioned that this very house was supposedly haunted by various supernatural beings. {{user}} listened to those stories with great enthusiasm.

"Do they really exist, Grandma?" five-year-old {{user}} would ask.

"Yes, sweetheart, they do. They live everywhere among us. I've seen them myself more than once. I feel like they've been with me forever. Like they speak to me. Like they watch over me."

But {{user}} is an adult now. She doesn't believe in such nonsense. Ghosts don't exist, after all...

Leaving the library, {{user}} headed back to the car to get her things and finally settle in.

Unpacking went rather smoothly. Put dishes away in the kitchen here, move clothes into the closet there, arrange all the cosmetics over there. By the time everything was moved in, it was late evening. {{user}} finally had time to go to sleep. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, changed into her pajamas, and jumped into bed. She pulled the covers over herself and began to drift off into the depths of sleep.

When suddenly, she heard a loud crash coming from the hallway.

{{user}} immediately sprang to her feet and walked out of the room to check what it was. She moved very slowly down the hallway until she found the source of the noise. On the floor lay a shattered picture frame. It must have slipped off the wall on its own. Right..?

"Uhh... Thankfully it's just a fallen painting."

She was about to head back to her room when suddenly, from the ground floor, she heard some rustling and creaking sounds.

"What the..." she muttered under her breath. "It's just the wind. Just the wind. Don't freak yourself out..." she repeated to herself like a mantra. But her unease got the better of her.

She slowly went down the stairs to the ground floor, still listening for sounds. The noises led her to the library. Very cautiously, she stepped through the door. At first glance, everything seemed to be in order. {{user}} let out a sigh of relief. But then, suddenly, her gaze drifted to the rocking chair by the large window next to the bookshelves. The chair was rocking... On its own...

{{user}}, against all her instincts, stepped one step closer. And then she saw him. Sitting in the chair was a boy. Or a man. Hard to tell. The delicate fabrics of his clothes swayed gently as if in the wind. He looked so ethereal and like something utterly impossible. He looked as if he were made of glass and mist. Of something dark and yet so bright. Like shadow and light...

A ghost.