You had just moved into the city of Richmond, Virginia.
More specifically a more- an eerie part of the city.Your aunt- an aunt you have no recollection of, had just passed and left you her old Victorian home.
Everyone you crossed warned you.
โGet out while you can.โ
โThat house- It's haunted.โ
โYou're making a mistake.โ
Yet, you made no attempt to leave. You figured they were trying to scare you off for no apparent reason.
That was until a week after living in your new home.
Every night the lights wouldn't turn on, you've changed the light bulbs three times within seven days, and it still won't turn on past eight p.m.
And your flashlight stopped working all of a sudden, no matter how much you change the batteries.
And one night- you made the unfortunate mistake of staying up.
It was 3:30 a.m.
And suddenly the grandfather clock started to chime.
You let out a startled gasp, you were under the impression that the clock had stopped working years ago.
The piano started to play on its own, you didn't want to get out of bed- it was as if you were in a horror film.
You took a deep breath to calm yourself and you took a slow and hesitant step out of bed.
As you walked towards the common room of the house, the music being played on the piano grew in both volume and speed.
You made your way to the piano and watched in shock as the keys moved on their own, as if a professional pianist was playing it.
Your eyes were pried to the piano as you walked to a lamp, praying it'll magically turn on.
3:32 a.m.
The light bulb of the lamp you were attempting to configure, exploded.
Yes, exploded.
You let out a yelp and ran to the kitchen looking for the flashlight with small but noticeable pieces of glass in your arm.
You grabbed the flashlight and cried, throwing it in frustration as you remembered it doesn't work anymore.
The piano stopped.
3:33 a.m.
Sobs.
Broken heartfelt sobs.
But they weren't coming from you- no, the noise wasโฆbehind you?
You turned around in an instant, just to be greeted with a human-like entity standing at 6โ2โ.
Your eyes went wide and no noise was able to escape your lips.
โYou aren't supposed to be here.โ It cried.
Your breathing grew heavier as you backed up, the further you walked away, the louder it's wailing got.
How?
You blinked and it was gone. And then you felt breathing on your neck, you cried and slowly turned around to the still sobbing creature.
โWhat do you want from me?โ You asked- it was more of a terrified whimper.
You were unable to make eye contact with the crying creature, and then it spoke once more.
โFor you to leave.โ
You almost forgot about the glass shards in your arm, until the ghost's eyes landed on your bleeding arm, the blood starting to slowly dry.
Its eyes went wide, unable to look away from the blood. It swiped its finger on the blood- it hasn't fully dried yet.
It licked the blood off of its finger and closed its eyes in pleasure.
It's crying has finally calmed, though your breathing remains heavy.
You whimpered, not daring to move whatsoever.
The glass seemed more and more painful as the time went by. But time had gone by so quickly. It's almost been a whole hour.
Noah's eyes widen as he realizes what time it is.
4:32 a.m.
He quickly puts his hand on the glass that's in your arm and makes eye contact with you as you wince in pain.
4:33 a.m.
And he'sโฆgone?
What just happened?
You look down at your arm, the throbbing pain of the glass no longer there. And that's because the glass isn't in your arm anymore.
Did he have something to do with that?
You look around, searching for a sign of him before stumbling back into your bedroom.
This has to be a dream. You tell yourself. There's no way this isn't! Ghosts aren't real!
You laid back down and closed your eyes, but you were unable to fall back asleep. You tossed and turned.
He was still here, you were just oblivious.
You can't see him now, you can only see him in a certain timeframe.
3:33 a.m. to 4:33 a.m.
But why so specific?
He's watching.
A week has passed since that night, you've failed to stay awake that late again.
You've done some research on your home. The entire time your aunt was living in this house, it was under someone else's name.
Noah Sebastian Davis.
He was the previous homeowner- there were no files on your aunt.
But how? This was her house!
Out of curiosity you decided to Google search the man's name and an obituary appeared along multiple newsletters and a band called Bad Omens.
First, you clicked the obituary:
โNoah Sebastian Davis, known for being the lead vocalist in the moderately popular โmetalcoreโ band, Bad Omensโฆโ
โHis death was ruled as a suicide but some suspect it was a murderโฆโ
โHe passed away on October 12th, approximately at 3 am.โ
โMay Noah now rest in peaceโฆโ
You tilted your head as you read. A murder disguised as a suicide?
An awful image appeared in your head before your eyes went wide- You thought of your aunt- No! She wouldn't kill someone! Althoughโฆthis house was never in her name- No!
You then did research on the band Bad Omens.
You stayed up for hours learning about the band and attempting to learn more about his death.
You have to know what happened.
Was your aunt involved?
Was that the man you saw?
Was it truly a suicide?
3:31 a.m.
You wake to the grandfather clock, chiming louder than it did last time.
Your eyes widen in realization. It wasn't a dream last night, your hands reach for your phone on the nightstand and you check the time, light of the screen making your eyes flutter at the sudden intrusion.
You get out of bed and go to the kitchen, where you saw him last time.
3:32 a.m.
The piano starts to play again, a hauntingly, eerie, melody.
Then- everything stops.
Has it really been 60 seconds?
Yes. Yes it has.
3:30 a.m.
The sobs appear behind you again.
โAreโฆare you Noah?โ
The sobbing comes to an abrupt end and you turn around, facing the creature.
โNoah Sebastian?โ You ask.
โHow?โ He asks. โHow do you remember me?โ
His sobbing starts up again.
โNo one remembers me. No one's supposed to remember me.โ
โEveryone remembers you. You're not some memory that fades away.โ You whisper.
โWhy are you still here, Noah? What is the truth?โ
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