My Haunted House
There were two things I had accepted long ago; the first was that pineapple never belonged on pizza. The second was that my house was profusely haunted.
Ever since I had first seen the house two years ago, I knew something was odd. The real estate agent seemed very anxious to sell the majestic farmhouse, even accepting the meager amount was able to pay at the time. When I was buying the house, I was fresh out of college. Although I majored in art, my passion had always been photography. I hoped to find a cheap house in a beautiful location, and the farmhouse fit the bill perfectly. It was situated in the middle of the country side, and was surrounded by rolling fields and deep forests. It seemed perfect.
Until I moved in and met the ghosts.
The ghosts seemed to find it amusing to just mess with the house, although they always fixed it when they were done. They knew it annoyed me. Every night, the ghosts would rearrange the house and hide my belongings. At first I found it irritating, as they would often hide my camera and photography equipment, but I soon learned to enjoy the game. I awoke an extra hour earlier every day to entertain them as I searched for my hidden possessions. The ghosts would then prepare my breakfast, which still always takes me by surprise. Seeing a kettle floating through the air and soup cooking itself never ceases to shock me, even though I have long since become used to the routine. The walls also bled what seemed like an endless supply of blood for one hour, starting at 12:16, which coincidentally, was the same time I ate lunch. It is rather nauseating, or at least it was, until I found out they used cornstarch, water, and food dye they nicked from the downstairs cupboards.
Now, the floor boards creaking and doors slamming and eerie child-like voices don't terrify me, but I know the mailman stopped coming within 50 feet of the house and the village children avoid me when I leave the house for groceries. I don't mind what they think of me anymore. If they bother me, I can always send one of my non corporeal friends to teach them a lesson. God, I love my haunted house.
(inspired by a tumblr prompt)