Clare Edwards took a deep breath before she entered her new house. She carried a small bag with her, her important belongings. Such as her journal and a small necklace her father had given her on her 7th birthday. Her other belongings were in the moving van outside.

"What do you think Clare-Bear?" Clare's mother asked as she walked through the door and stood next to her.

Clare looked around. The house was large. There were 10 rooms and 6 baths. The interior was beautiful, elegant. Diamond chandeliers hung from the ceilings, crown molding wrapped around the walls. The furniture was covered in plastic and the plastic had inches of dust collected on it. But, even with all the beauty, the house gave Clare an eerie feeling. But she liked it.

"It's great mom. Really great."

Helen, her mother smiled. She was a historian. This house was history it's self. Once owned by a very powerful family back in the 60s. A tragedy struck the family and they ended up moving and leaving the beautiful house alone for about 50 years. No one had dared to move into, or knock down the house. The house brought bad luck, many have told the two. But they didn't care. Superstitions are for the uneducated.

"Why don't you go explore? Find your new room? I'll wait for the movers to come and help me bring in the rest of the boxes." Helen told her daughter.

Clare smiled and thanked her mother. She rushed upstairs to the second floor. A long hall way of door appeared in front of her. Walking down the hall she peered into each room. They were all very big, but one stuck out to her. It was the last door on the right. It was smaller than the others. It had a warm feeling to it, but it still possessed an eerie quality. This was her room. She placed her bag on the king sized bed and smiled.

It took the movers about 2 hours to get all of the Edwards' belonging into the house. It took twice as long to organize the boxes into living room, kitchen, and bedroom piles. They still haven't unpacked yet. They decided to start tomorrow. Clare's mother deiced to order pizza, so the two where currently sitting at the dining room table.

"Mom?" Clare asked as she dropped her napkin on her paper plate. "Can I see those newspaper articles about the house, later?"

Helen nodded "Of course."

Helen picked up her plate, as well as Clare's and threw it out. Removing her wedding band, she washed her hands.

It has been 5 years since Clare's father had passed away, but her mother still wore her ring. Randall, Clare's father, was her one true love. Dead or alive, her mother still loved him. Clare knew she would never remarry and she was fine with that. She and her mother were fine and happy.

Helen walked over to a box and opened it, after rummaging around she pulled out a folder and handed it to Clare.

"Those are all the articles I have." Clare took them and walked down a hallway into the large living room. She pushed the plastic off the couch and settled into the plush cushions. Clare flipped open the folder and looked through it. She found an article about the old owners; Clare closed the folder and placed it on the ground.

Loss of a Goldsworthy

Last night, February 13th 1956, Charles Goldsworthy, of Goldsworthy Enterprises, confirmed that his youngest son, Elijah Christopher Goldsworthy passed away that morning. Elijah was born March 18, 1949. He was youngest of 7 children. Harold, Elizabeth, Marianne, Jeffery, Katrina and Felicity are his 6 brothers and sisters. Elijah attended East Port High, a private school for boys. He was an exquisite writer; one of his poems was featured in a magazine two year ago. His family has kept the cause of his death out of the media. Melinda Goldsworthy, Charles's wife and Elijah's mother, released a statement last night as well.

"The cause of our son's tragic death will not be publicized, out of respect for Elijah, himself."

Elijah's funeral will be held at St. Patrick's church February 17, 1956. All are welcome.

Clare had read the article before, but it still had the same effect on her as the first time. She was upset. When I boy died he was only a year older than Clare. The boy was 16 when he died. His 17th birthday was just around the corner. It was sad, and sickening. She put the article back into the folder and closed it. She didn't want to read any of the other newspaper articles about the boy. They'd only upset her more.

Clare decided to turn in for the night. She walked up the stairs and down the hall. Her mother had picked the largest bedroom to be her's. It was about four doors away from Clare's, but on the right side. As she passed it, Clare gently pushed it open.

"Goodnight mom." Helen looked up from her book. She smiled.

"Goodnight sweet heart." Helen replied. Clare closed the door and made her way down the hall into her room. Her bag, which she had placed on the bed, had fallen to the ground. She bent down and picked it up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something black move. She quickly spun around, to find nothing, other than a empty bookshelf. She shook her head.

"You're going crazy, Clare." She smiled to herself. Taking sheets and a blanket out of a box, she made her bed. She changed into her pajamas and grabbed her journal.

She began writing her about her daily life a few months after her father passed. Clare's father had been an author. Clare's father's books, for the most part, were about life in different European countries. So the Edwards family traveled a lot. Which Clare didn't mind. She loved to travel. To visit different countries and learn about their daily life and culture.




Today is Clare's first day at Merryweather High. Helen dropped her off at the front door and gave her a kiss and the cheek.

"Have a good day."

Clare smiled. "I'll try."

Apparently the kids at Merryweather High love gossip, because the moment to walked into the school she heard

"That's that Edwards girl."

"She just moved into Goldsworthy Manor."

"She must be crazy."

"Do you think she knows?"

Clare walked fast through the halls trying to find her homeroom. When she finally found room 134, she sat down in a chair.

Kids began to come in little after little. A boy sat down next to her. He wore baggy clothes and a navy beanie on top of his head. He made a quick side glance at Clare before swiveling in his seat an offering his hand.

"Hi I'm Adam."

Clare shook his hand and smiled. "Clare."

Adam smirked. "Ah, so you are the new "crazy" girl everyone is talking about."

Clare arched her eyebrow. "Why are people calling me crazy?" Clare asked.

Adam laughed. Clare looked at him, her expression not shifting. Adam stopped laughing.

"Oh you're serious?" He asked, slightly embarrassed.

Clare nodded.

"Well you're living at Goldsworthy Manor." Adam said.

Clare shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, so?"

Adam's eyes widened. "Goldsworthy Manor is legendarily haunted."

Clare laughed out loud.

"That's it? That's why people are calling me crazy? Because of a bunch of little kid ghost stories? That's hilarious."

Adam arched an eyebrow. "You don't believe in ghosts?"

Clare shook her head. "Never had, never will."

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Oh and if you haven't come this the conclusion yet, this story is OOC