A Scary Story
Does anyone know how to use the online classifieds? I’m looking for a new roommate. Here’s a little about me and my home. I live in a beautiful old victorian. It sits upon a hill, overlooking the ocean. The bird’s eye view brings me great joy. I love looking at the sea from my cozy attic bedroom. I relish the chance to curl up in my armchair and watch the water crash upon the rocks. Every night, I curl up in my fuzzy blanket and enjoy a cup of earl grey while the sounds of the waves lull me to sleep.
This house is my favorite place in the world. On winter nights, I love letting the crackling fireplace fill my senses. I’m a loner. I am very fond of my quiet little house. I worked as a barkeep in my younger days, a profession best left to the young, and the friendly. My former roommates said that I was too unpleasant to live with, a couple of college kids. They disappeared in the middle of the night and never told me goodbye.
The redhead had a fit when I opened the cupboard doors; she jumped out of her skin. I hate to say it, but I laughed at her expense. I was simply trying to remind her to put away the clean cups. Those two ladies were so messy. They were noisy roommates too. I’d want to hear the ocean noises. And that kid had music on at full volume. I had to cut off the radio.
I swear I’ve been looking for the perfect roommate the whole time that I have lived here. Maybe I need to live with a grumpy old man like myself—someone who can just enjoy a warm fireplace and the waves’ sound. I’m starting to doubt that there is such a person. I’m stuck in my little house by the ocean, and I have been for 218 years.