Bakura screamed. Oh Gods how he screamed. His brother fell, blood pooling from his empty eyesockets. He landed with a loud thump next to his mother's body. The body that had been disembowled. He could see the organs had been shoved into her mouth.

And Bakura threw up.

Unmanly as it was, he couldn't help it. Weakly, he scrambled over to their dead bodies, flipping them over so that they were on their backs. Tears streaked down his face as he felt intestines brush his arms.

And then it was his turn.

He heard the man, those loud, dragging footsteps, before he turned. This strange man, who had been nice to his mother, taken her on dates, promised her everything . . .

Now it all ended with an upraised knife.


Marik Ishtar sat in the back of the car, legs crossed, and a perpetually bored look on his face as he stared out the window, eyes halfway lidded. His sister, Ishizu, sat in the front seat, while his older brother, Melvin, was next to him, elbowing him painfully every once in a while, relishing in the way his brother winced.

"So . . . What is this house like?" Ishizu asked nervously from the front seat, shifting slightly to look at their mother.

"Oh . . . Well, it's nice." Their mother shrugged. "I think the family who lived there died, but I'm sure it'll be okay."

Ishizu and Marik both glared at their mother, while Melvin just smirked and ran his fingernail down the glass window. Everyone cringed, as he cackled. "Fuck yeah! We get a haunted house!"

"Nobody said it was haunted!" Their mother snapped. "And watch your language."

Melvin sneered at her from the backseat, before grinning at Marik.

"Hey, pussy, ya gonna be wettn' your pants everynight?" Marik chose to ignore this statement. "Hey, bitch!" Melvin hissed. "I'm talkin' to you!" Marik felt his hair being yanked on, and he turned around and slapped his brother's hand away.

"Leave my hair alone . . ." Marik turned back to the window, face burning from the loud, obnoxious laughter emitting from his brother.

Finally, though, they pulled their car into the new driveway. It was a pretty average house. Not like what most people think when they hear 'haunted house'. It was just a large, brown house, with nothing remarkable about it. Other then the fact that it was pretty far out of town, it wasn't strange at all. Melvin sighed in dissapointment, before hopping out of the car.

Marik followed, helping bring suitcases into the house. They'd brought the bare neccesity; their uncle was going to be bringing the rest up next week. He'd said that the house already had some furniture though, which wasn't a lie. A white couch and chair occupied the living room, while beds were upstairs. They'd been stripped of sheets and pillows, but they'd brought their own, anyways.

Melvin raced upstairs to claim a bedroom, while Marik stood tentativly next to Ishizu.

His sister had a hand fisted in her long black hair, while fiddling with the golden jewlery clamped around it. Ishizu had a history of being the 'family psychic'. She couldn't move stuff around, and she didn't really see things, but she seemed to sense when things weren't right.

"Everything okay?" Marik questioned. Ishizu just made a noise in the back of her throat, before walking upstairs.

"You'd better find you a room."

Marik sighed in agreement, before picking up his bags and clomping up the stairs. He headed towards a room in the darkest part of the house. Despite Melvin's teasings about Marik being a sissy, he wasn't really. Nothing really phased him, and he liked being in the dark.

Stepping into his new room, he saw it was average as well. No creepy old man floating around, no little boy throwing a ball and staring at him with sightless eyes. He couldn't help but feel slightly dissapointed. He plopped his bags down near the bed, before pulling sheets and covers from within it.

Making his bed with his purple and gold sheets, he set some pillows down as well. Yawning and stretching, Marik sat on his new bed, and stared around the room, almost willing something to happen.

But of course nothing did.

Rising from his position, he exited the room, not seeing the floating pillow behind him.


His mother had forgotten to pack real food, so they all ended up crowded around a cooler eating peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, while fighting over a single bag of Doritos. However, Marik had to admit, it was strange sitting as a family to eat. They hardly ever did anything together.

Ishizu popped open a Dr. Pepper, before handing it to Marik. Just as he reached out to recieve it, though, the soda flew from Ishizu's outstretched hand, and crashed into a wall, leaking its contents all down the side.

Their mother cried out in dismay, before heading for the large pile of napkins. "Honestly, Ishizu! I expected this from Melvin but. . ." Ishizu tried to explain that she hadn't thrown the can, but their mother just made an angry noice, before swiping at the soda, trying to clean it off of the walls.

Marik believed Ishizu, though. He'd seen that his sister's hand was tight around the can. Looking into her pale face, she knew it too. Melvin just flopped down on his back and laughed rudely while he hogged the potato chip bag, now that no one as paying attention.


Bakura stared hatefully at them all. How dare they enter his home, those stupid mortals? He'd died less two years ago, after all! Was it really okay to go traisping around in someone's home before they even died properly?

The spirit boy floated around them, knowing that they couldn't see him unless he made himself apparent. He made faces at them as he flew, watching the mother work to get the soda off the wall with a smirk. Bakura then settled down next to the boy with long, blond hair, wearing an embarrasingly revealing shirt as if it were nothing.

Bakura had to admit; he hated this one most of all. This boy had taken his room. His bloody room! Bakura didn't like that. He lifted a ghostly hand to the boy, before prodding him silghtly, causing the boy to jump and whirl around, eyes wide in confusion. Bakura cackled, before he began to float around the boy, pinching and prodidng his upper body, before giving one last, hard jerk to the boy's hair, causing him to topple backwards.

The boy mumbled something, before rising to the sitting position again. His sister was giving him a worried look, asking if he felt any sudden chills or something stupid like that. Their brother was just laughing it up, mimicking the boy Bakura had messed with.

Bakura thought long and hard of his mother then. She'd always said you couldn't hate someone without knowing their name; common courtesy. So Bakura listened all that night for the boy's name. He recieved none though, and, thoroughly put out, he floated angrily behind the boy as he strutted-yes, that was the only word for how the boy walked-to his bedroom. They entered together, but Bakura waited untilt he child had shut the door, before grinning maniacly. Oh, he would get that name.


Marik slipped off his shirt and pants, before rummaging in his bag for some pajama bottoms. All of a sudden, the bag was lifted upwards, and he was left staring at his floating duffel bag.

Just friggn' great.

The ghost apparently decided it didn't like Marik.


"Look, spirit," the duffel bag almost fell, supposedly from the spirit's surprise. "If you're unhappy or miserable, that's your deal. I can't help you, so just leave me alone." Marik crossed his arms over his chest, before looking down. He frowned, as he realized he didn't look very threatening in his purple boxers.

"Boooooo Mooooooortaaaaaaaal!" A ghostly voice tremored from near the duffel bag. "We are noooooooot oooooneeee buuuuut maaaaaaaaany!" The voice came from a corner this time, but Marik didn't believe it. It was the same voice, not that of another spirit. Sighing and rolling his eyes, the tanned boy reached for the duffel bag. It was jerked from his grasp, and he glared at where the spirit's hand was supposedly holding it.

"Now, look! I just want some friggn' pajamas so I don't freeze my friggn' butt of in my friggn' boxers, okay?" Marik shouted, huffing angrily.

He heard what sounded like a giggle. "You say friggn' a lot."

Marik scowled and slammed his hand against his forehead. "Ra dammit! This is annoying!" A knock sounded on his door.

Just great.

Marik made his way over to the door, ignoring the laughing spirit, and opened it, revealing his sister Ishizu.

"Brother . . ." She asked softly. "My head hurts and . . . There seems to be something coming from your room."

"Dammit!" Ishizu blinked in surprise as a voice sounded from behind Marik. "Does nobody in this fucking family say names! It's always 'brother' this and 'brother that! What the fuck is wrong with you people." Ishizu immediatly pushed back Marik, before peering into the room and seeing a duffel bag being tossed around.

"Oh my . . ."

"Why do you need our names?" Marik questioned, scowling at his nosy sister.

"Because I want to hate you," the ghost answered, and the duffel bag dropped. "My mum used to say that if you want to hate someone, then you have to know their name, at the least. It was always her rule." Marik stared incredulously at the air.

"Why . . . Why do you want to hate me?" He finally spluttered, reaching out and grabbing his duffel bag. Extracting some purple and gold pinstriped pajama bottoms from it, he never let his eyes leave where he thought the ghost was. But he was wrong, for as soon as he started to pull up his bottoms, he felt ghostly hands brush over his hips, grip the elastic waistband of them, and hike them up so high that Marik's eyes watered, and his feet came off the ground.

Ishizu cried out in surprise, while Marik's was in pain, and she lurched forward, gripping Marik's upper arm, and tugging with all her might. The spirit released Marik, though, and sent the two siblings toppling down together.

Groaning, they both seperated, before rising to their feet once more. The spirit's cackle came from several different locations all at once. "He can throw his voice. Awesome," Marik mumbled drily, and Ishizu frowned.

"I am Ishizu Ishtar, and this is my brother Ma-" A hand clamped roughly over Ishizu's mouth, and the elder sister tried to pry it off.

"Oh, hell no!" Marik growled, glaring at Ishizu. "If he wants my name, that stupid bastard can work for it-"

Melvin walked in. "Hey, Marik, ya little pussy. Mom wants to know if you've seen the shit for the bathroom." The older brother then paused, tilting his head, as he saw Marik with his hand over Ishizu's mouth, while they were both breathing deeply, looking highly ashamed. "Oh . . . Holy hell!" Melvin cackled, before running from the room. "Mom! Mom guess what!"

"No! Brother, you have it wrong!" Ishizu took off after Melvin, hitching up her dress to give her legs more freedom.

Marik turned a dull gaze around all of his room. "Well . . ."

"Marik Ishtar." The spirit sniggered. "I am Bakura Touzouku. Now you can hate me too. Ain't it great?" Booming laughter filled his room, and Marik scowled.

"Show yourself, spirit," the blond commanded, fixing his pajamas as he glared angrily at nothing. The laughter stopped.

"Fine then . . ." A boy appeared before Marik, about his age, with completely white skin and hair. Blazing red eyes scorched from the middle of it all. The boy, deffinitly Bakura, wore a blue jacket over a blue and white striped shirt, with regular blue jeans on. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he was giving a facial expression that appeared to be a mixture of anger and pouting.

"So Bakura. . . You're going to make my life a living hell for as long as I live here aren't you?" A nod. "Perfect . . ." Marik muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Mind me asking why?" A shrug. "Dammit! Answer my questions, at least!"

Bakura sneered, before shoving his tongue out. Marik was unhappily reminded of Melvin, who was no doubt downstairs telling his mother about how he and Ishizu were up here conducting sinister acts of incest. This day just couldn't get better.

"Just . . . Go away then." Marik scowled, rubbing his temples as he turned his back on the spirit. He flopped down on his bed. Laughter echoed in his ears as he felt something flop down on the bed next to him, taking up over half of it.

Marik launched into the sitting position, seeing a smirking Bakura laying there, sprawled out. "I've never slept with another man before," Bakura winked. "I hope I'm up to the task."

The blond boy jumped up, making a noise of annoyance that sounded something like "NGYAHG!" before he turned on his heel and stomped over to a corner of the room, dragging his blanket along behind him.

"Aw, baby. Was it something I said?" Bakura questioned, a smirk on his lips as he hung of the foot of the bed.

And thus started Marik's first day in his new haunted house.


Tell me what you think. =D Pleases?

And A Never Ending Dream is still gonna continue. =D Though, it's probably nearing a conclusion kinda soon-ish.

Anyways, please review! Even if it's just something simple, or you wanna tell me that it's the worst story friggn' ever, I don't care. I just like to know what you guys think.

Ja ne!