Strong Sad slept through the greater portion of the day, which was perfectly fine with him. The sun, still glaring at him from it's awful throne, was still hovering well off the horizon, and probably still would be for hours still. Well, whatever. He'd rather explore this house than the cheerful streets of Painting Bunting, USA.
He walked through the house lightly, softly, as if normal footsteps may cause it to crumble quicker. The front room was very small. There was the couch he slept on, a small coffee table, and a few shelves. He noticed there were items scattered about on the shelves. He looked at them, a photo in a frame, a porcelain figurine of a kitten with a pink, velvet ribbon tied around its neck holding a small bell, and a key. He figured the key was for somewhere else in the house.
He reached for it, and then hesitated. This key had to have been left alone for many years. Who was he to disturb the peace? "Cut it out! It's just a key!" he reprimanded himself. Carefully, he slipped his fingers around the key. A piece of the house's history, in the palm of his hand. It felt wrong, yet also correct. Like he had passed a test set before; a moral dilemma he had to solve so he could call this house his own. He didn't necessarily want to live in the house, though. Sulk, wander, exist, and haunt were more of the words he'd use. Someplace to use as a hobble, a camp, not a home. Home wasn't what he wanted. He never wanted to be home ever again.
He explored the house, curious of every nook and cranny. The first room he found was the kitchen. It was bare, as he expected. It wasn't that big of a deal, though. He would make food appear one way or another. Or not; he didn't care either way.
Next, there was a bedroom. The bed in the room look queen size, but it was hard to tell with the white sheet draped over it. There was a closet in the room. A family of mice had made a nest out of some old clothing that was left on the floor when the house was abandoned. They scurried away at the sight of him. He'd let them continue living here, he didn't mind.
He walked through the next door way and gasped. Laid out before him was a sort of small library. Obviously, whoever lived here before him valued literature as much as he did. The shelves even still had books on them. Hey, some of these were really good! They had collections of Edgar Allan Poe, The Secret Garden, Pinocchio (the old one that he liked). If he died and was in Heaven, then he knew he was correct that death was great.
He noticed another room, off to the side. He peeked in, curious. It was a bathroom, small with uneven tiling. There was an old looking bathtub, toilet, and a sink. Above the sink was a dusty mirror. He scanned the room, curious for a towel, or anything else that could aid in cleaning up the house. His eyes landed on the mirror again. There was a message 'Who are you?'
Wait, was that there before? He doubted it. He always wanted to be haunted! He wrote 'I'm Strong Sad' on the mirror, hopeful for some occurrence. Preferably, one of the spooky caliber.
The dust resettled over the messages. Written out before him was another message. 'Hello, Strong Sad! I'm Cassie! Why are you in my house?'
Wow! He was real life being haunted! He wasn't one for being happy, but he was certainly scared and excited! 'I don't have anywhere else,' he answered.
The dust resettled. Cassie responded, 'Oh. Well, if there's anything you need, don't worry. I can help you.'
'Thank you!' Replied Strong Sad. The messages in the mirror reminded him somewhat of an etch-n-sketch. When it was filled, it would get dusty again.
'No problem!' Cassie wrote, 'Using ghost powers for yourself gets boring after a while. It's been a while since I've had company.'
So she was a ghost! Awesome! 'What can ghost powers do?' He asked.
'Oh, all sorts of things! It's a pretty powerful ability. I'm sure you'll see over time.'