What's It Like To Be A Ghost?

Summertime was a time of peace and quiet, when the sounds of cicadas and frogs screaming mingled with the warm breeze, rustling in green leaves. The heat and humidity chased children inside to air conditioned homes, leaving the playgrounds nearly silent, the faint, grating sound of swing chains twisting on their axles. In this eerie quiet, one that wasn't even quiet, surrounded by perfect suburban homes, a piece of sun bleached crime scene tape detached from the broken in door. The whitened tape drifted by dead grass, through slats of a broken, once white picket fence. It continued, blowing down the street. It mingled with fallen leaves, disappearing around a corner. Just like that.. Nobody remembered what had happened. Nobody came with candles and prayer to help the lost soul find his way to heaven.
Ashley was forgotten. He was an accident. He was a suicide. He was a murder. But nobody remembered now. His name, once tiptoed around and said in hushed voices, wasn't said anymore.
When that happened, when he was forgotten and his case was closed, everyone seemed to move on. The realtors came, sweeping reminders of him under the rug.. He didn't want to be left behind and he wasn't going to stand for people moving on without them knowing what happened to him that night. That cold, horrible night... They thought he was gone. He wanted everyone to know that he was still there. He wanted everyone to know what happened to him.
When the first family moved in, only two years after his death, Ashley stayed quiet for a week or two. He let them get settled in. Then.. He began his work to chase them out. It started with the dripping of the faucets. No matter how tightly the "handyman" father wound the pipes, they would drip, drip, drip. After days of that constant drip, every single faucet dripping simultaneously, like a metronome, it stopped suddenly. The family- two parents, an older girl and and younger boy, all rejoiced at the relief. The girl, about 12 or 13, ran her fingertips under the kitchen faucet. "They- they don't drip anymore!" She announced. The toddler boy clapped and squealed. He waved at Ashley where he stood in the doorway. Ashley smiled crookedly and waved back. He squealed again. Ashley wiggled his fingers and disappeared from his sight. He didn't so much mind the little boy, but the rest.. They drove him crazy.
About a week later, the dripping resumed. This time, the water was blood. Ashley enjoyed the scream when the daughter came to the bathroom in the morning to find blood slowly dripping from the silver faucet, down the drains. He stood quietly, watching as she shakily tried to run water. The water ran clear for just a moment before the drain gave a horrible gurgle and spat up bubbling, crimson blood. By the time the parents ran to check on their daughter, the water ran clear and the sink was empty. She frantically tried to explain, her explanation nothing more than babbling. "The- the blood! So much blood!" She sobbed into her mother's chest.
So much blood. Just like that night, such a short time ago...
Her father swiped his fingers under the faucet and dipped them into the gaping drain. When both tests left his fingers damp but free from blood. He showed his fingers to his wife and daughter. "See? You're just imagining it, sweetie. You're letting your mind play tricks." Her father soothed. "Whatever happened to that kid happened. Don't let it get to you."
Ashley glared at him. His hands flexed and tightened. The father, standing right under the air conditioning vent, looked up as a drop of liquid fell onto his bald head. "Is the ceiling leaking?" He looked up as another drop of blood dripped, thick and viscous, onto his face. The drops turned into a steady dribble into a open faucet, gushing all over the man, in his eyes, in his gaping mouth.. His wife and daughter screamed as he slowly touched his face, hands coming away sticky with blood. They were gone in an hour. Ashley watched them go, barely visible in the window. The little boy waved sadly, tears in his eyes. Ashley waved back until they disappeared around the corner, burning rubber in their haste.
Five years or so passed before the next people would move in. In the meantime, people were trying to break in left and right. Broken windows, broken doors- Ashley was enraged. Each and every thrill seeker, vandal and ghost hunter was chased out, screaming bloody murder about the horrors they'd seen. The second sell of the house was to a couple, both on their second marriage and both with children. The move was supposed to celebrate two families becoming one or some other bullshit. Ashley thought it was strange. He watched as the newlyweds bickered in the front yard, surrounded by dead grass overrun with weeds.
"You said it was in perfect shape!" The wife shouted.
Her husband sighed. "Honey.. It just needs a little work. We'll fix it up, it'll be real pretty."
She rolled her eyes and walked inside. She looked around. "I married an idiot."
Ashley snickered to himself. He liked this lady.. Even if he did, they ran for the hills less than a month later. He started off with walking down the halls during the night- "It's the house settling." The pipes creaking was excused the same way. The lights flickering was blamed on faulty wiring. He would move things, although that was only blamed on someone forgetting where they put something. Ashley hated being ignored... One day, when the woman, who thought she was alone, was dusting or cleaning or whatever she occupied her time with- Ashley didn't pay much attention- in the front room, Ashley moved the portrait of his family into the basement. When she found it, she clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh my god.." She looked around the dark basement, Her eyes went even wider as she noticed the blood soaking through the floor of the room above her, dribbling like stalactites or icicles. They were gone within a few days. It took another episode of blood to really convince the lady's husband that the house was haunted.
The house was sold again surprisingly quickly, spending about two years on the market, only was empty within two weeks. The next time it was sold, they didn't even move in. There were just pieces of furniture and a few boxes of their things. Ashley assumed they'd heard stories. And so, for the next twenty years, it would remain empty. Just like Ashley, it was a prisoner to decay and destruction. People stopped fixing the windows and the doors after they were broken, stopped maintaining the yards and the fence. Every now and then, people would come to gawk at the house and whisper about what had transpired on that night.They would wonder aloud if the house was truly haunted, or perhaps people just lost their minds in those dark hallways.
Ashley stared through broken windows and a sloppily placed "NO TRESPASSING" sign as a moving van pulled up across the street. A teenage boy hopped out, staring right at Ashley for a moment. The breeze tickled his skin and made yellowed lace curtains dance as he faded into the shadows once again. He was curious about this boy.. He knew he wouldn't have to wait very long though. There was something irresistible about a haunted house that brought nearly everyone calling.

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