#paranormal!michael

I have a strange obsession with Michael in Iron Maiden shirts and me wanting to go to a Maiden concert with him (seriously). So I was listening to Fear of The Dark today while I studied for my exams and this idea struck me. Hope you like it and do tell me if there should be a second part or not!

Ghost!Michael

Word Count: 1335

Part 2

The night was dark outside when you got off the bus. It was late already and the streets were almost dead, barely any cars driving by and the streetlights were the only source of light around you. A cold breezebrushed by and you held your jacket closer to your body in an attempt to warm yourself up.

You started walking home while thinking of the events of that day. Class had taken longer than other days and your teacher fought with one of your classmates while he was presenting. It was the guy’s fault for talking back and not shutting up when he should’ve. In the end, he would probably have to retake the class because of his stupidity, but at least everyone else in the class had a good laugh.

“I’m such a bitch sometimes,” you mumbled under your breath with a tiny chuckle.

As you continued to walk, you felt a presence next to you. You searched around, trying to figure out if anyone was following you. You gripped your cellphone tightly as you looked around, but nothing was there. Slowly, you continued on your way home, but you still felt like someone was following you home.

You checked your surroundings several times because you could’ve sworn someone was behind you. Once you were in front of your house, you checked one more time, staring directly at the dark patch of woods in front of your house. You could’ve sworn you saw a patch of bright red hair and pale skin, but after you shook your head, the image was gone.

“Get your shit together,” you told yourself before you unlocked the front door of your house.

You went up to your room and dropped off your stuff before going to your parents’ bedroom. You knocked on the door and opened it once you got a response from the inside. Your mom was lying down with the TV on and her laptop on her legs.

“How was school?” she asked as she glanced at you for a moment before returning her attention to her computer.

“It was okay,” you replied. You wanted to tell her about what happened that day since you enjoyed sharing those kinds of details with her, but she seemed pretty busy and you didn’t want to interrupt. “Where’s dad?”

“He said that he got stuck at work, but he should be home soon,” she replied. “There’s some food on the kitchen. I made your favorite,” she said with a smile, but never ripping her eyes away from the screen in front of her.

“Okay, thank you,” you replied before you walked out.

Downstairs, you plugged your ear buds in and played some music in your iPod. In the kitchen, you served yourself some food as you sang along to Kitchen Sink by Twenty One Pilots. When the plate was on the microwave, you moved to open up the refrigerator, but stopped when you felt something brush your hand. You looked down, expecting to see an insect on your hand or something alike, but there was nothing there.

Gulping, you opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. You served yourself a cup before putting the bottle away. As you moved to get the plate out of the microwave, the cup of orange juice fell off the counter. You jumped and held a hand over your chest as you stared at the chattered glass. You closed your eyes, remembering perfectly well that you left it far away from the edge, so it couldn’t possibly have fallen off all by itself.

“Maybe I did leave it there,” you told yourself, but deep inside you knew there was no way the cup fell all by itself like that.

Trying not to overthinking what just happened, you grabbed some newspaper and a broom. You pushed all the pieces of glass into a pile before placing them all on the newspaper. You threw that away and mopped the floor. Then, you served yourself more orange juice before grabbing your plate and going upstairs to your bedroom.

You turned on your TV and settled on watching American Horror Story while you dug into your food. You tried your best to concentrate on the show, but the feeling of being watched was really freaking you out. You knew someone was in that room with you, but you couldn’t see anyone and you were trying your best to tell your mind it was just your imagination. Ghosts couldn’t possibly be real. You’d been to haunted places with your friends before and never had you experienced anything like what you were going through at the moment. It had to be your imagination.

After finishing your dinner, you placed the empty plate on your side table and finished watching the episode. Once it was over, you headed downstairs and washed your plate. Then, you took a deep breath before going up to your bedroom.

You changed into your favorite pair of pajamas and cleaned up your bedroom a bit because it was getting messy. As you were putting your school books away, you heard something.

“Y/N,” someone called. You frowned because it sounded like a male voice, but your dad wasn’t home yet, so it couldn’t have been him. Maybe it was your mom and it sounded like a man for some reason, so you went over to your parents’ bedroom and knocked.

“Did you call me?” you asked your mother.

She looked up at you and shook her head. “No, honey, I didn’t.”

“Oh, okay,” you replied. “Goodnight.”

She returned your words before you walked away. You decided it was best to get ready for bed. Perhaps you were starting to imagine things because of how exhausted you were. Yeah, it definitely had to be that. There was no other explanation.

“A ghost?” you said and started to chuckle. “How absurd.”

You continued to chuckle on your way to the bathroom. You did your business first and then washed your hands thoroughly. You studied your features in the mirror for a moment, hoping to figure out if you were dreaming or not. Maybe you fell asleep in class or the bus and were starting to have a highly disturbing dream or a nightmare.

You washed your face then with as much care as you could. You didn’t want to get any more pimples. That part of your life was over if you had any say in it. Pimples were not something you wanted to have on your body ever again. If not having them meant taking extra good care of your skin, then so be it.

When you were done, you grabbed your toothbrush and placed a good amount of toothpaste on it. You brushed your teeth thoroughly as you hummed Fear Of The Dark by Iron Maiden under your breath. It was really ironic that you had that particular song stuck in your mind, but you didn’t care. It seemed fitting anyway.

“Sometimes when you're scared to take a look at the corner of the room you've sensed that something's watching you,” you heard a male voice sing into your ear, breath brushing against your ear and a hand caressing your arm. You jumped and closed your eyes, scared to check and see if someone was next to you.

When the feeling disappeared, you opened your eyes again and checked, but nothing was there. You spit the paste in your mouth onto the sink and finished cleaning your teeth before going back to your bedroom.

You opened your bedroom door and felt around the wall for the switch, your heart still racing from what happened in the bathroom. When you found it, you pressed the light switch and looked up from your feet up to your bedroom and jumped, suddenly startled by what you saw.

Standing a couple of inches away from you was a tall boy with red-dyed hair, pale translucent skin and the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. “Hey, Y/N. About time we meet,” he said before a cold, cruel smile spread across his lips.