AN: Typically, I don't like writing stories with a bunch of original characters. People don't really care for original characters because this is fandom. You write about the characters from the game! But this inspiration wouldn't go away...

And I have actual night scares too...

Okay, done with my rant. Oh with the Story

The Red Chest

Chapter 1

Year 2052

"Julius!" yelled Yvett.

Julius nearly jumped out of his large chair. Even after sixteen years of marriage, he still had not learned to shut out his wife's voice.

"What is it honey," said Julius in a tiny voice, settling back in his tan color comfy chair, hoping that she would not hear him and think that he was out or something. He was happily flipping through four hundred channels of bad TV programming anyways.

"Julius!" Yvett's call was even louder.

A little miffed, Julius yelled back "WHAT!" He really wanted see what channel two-hundred-forty-two had. He did fork over his wallet to pay for satellite TV.

"Get your ass up here!" she called loud enough to make the house shake a little.

"WHY?" Julius had seen channel two-hundred-forty-two and saw some home shopping stuff he didn't want anyways. Now his new target was channel three hundred. He really wanted to delay whatever Yvett had in store for him.

There were stomping sounds. Yvett, a short woman with a handsome face and short dark brown hair, galumphed down the stairs, glaring at her indolent husband with agitated hazel eyes.

Julius turned and met his wife's glare with his own innocent blue eyes. He attempted his most cherubic smile, the one he used to give to his own mother when she found out that he had been skipping school. Unfortunately, his mother never bought the cute looks. Neither did his wife, it seems.

"Julius!" began Yvett imperiously. "How many times have you promised me that you would clean out the attic?"

"Um..." Julius's mind was racing as fast as it could. He recalled that Yvett said something about it at least a dozen times during the past year. Yvett always wanted to make the house a little cleaner, to store some of the items that she did not want to display or did not use anymore, but still wished to keep. She had already used up the spare warehouse and the basement. Now she was ready to utilize the attic. Except the attic was filled with random things. Stuff that Julius's relatives had left for storage. But the majority was grandpa Julian's since he left a lot of strange random stuff when he died two years ago. "I don't know?" answered Julius pathetically.

"I don't know?" repeated Yvett, the pitch of her voice rising. "How the hell could you not know when I reminded you verbally twice a day. "Dear. You need to clean out the attic." That's all I said. Once in the morning, then once in the afternoon! I told you before we went to bed last night. I told you after we read a story to our daughter..."

Julius winced as Yvett voice reached new heights in pitch with each new sentence. He really could not do anything to stop her. He married Yvett because her fiery temper had attracted him. (That and he had one too many drinks one night...) She could really give a hurtful retort that cut deep into the souls of those she disliked. But her other extreme was equally effective. She cried the moment he told her that he "liked her.' She was not afraid of expressing her feelings, positive and negative alike and Julius was oddly charmed by that. Now he regretted that attraction.

"Mama? Papa?" came the sweet voice of their daughter Erin. She was an adorable little girl with red hair and hazel eyes of her mother. She was only six years old, wore a pink sleeping gown, a brown teddy bear clutched in her arms, and a tired look on her face. She came halfway down the stairs and sat on the steps. She looked tiredly through the elegant railing trim. "What are you arguing about?"

Yvett's constrained look immedately melted and a mask of the most agreeable, comely mother replaced her agitation. "Oh no. Honey. We aren't arguing," said Yvett. "We are..." she stopped to think of a good word. "discussing."

"Oh," said Erin, though her features suggested that she did not exactly believe her mother's words.

This time, another child came down. He stopped right on the bottom of the steps. This one was eleven years old, a boy with dark brown hair that was once as red as his younger sister Erin's hair. He rubbed his pale blue eyes a little, trying to unblur the world. "What's going on here," he said sleepily.

"Nothing Zach. Go back to sleep," said Julius while giving a meaningful look at his wife. They were loud people (well, more his wife than him) and he regretted that he had gotten his children's attention in a spot like this.

"But you two were clearly fighting." said Zach in a slightly fearful voice. He hated it when his folks were fighting. There was a tension in the air that made him afraid. Probably because the kids he knew from school had parents that started fighting and ended up splitting apart.

"No, we were not honey," denied Yvett, though her voice had a dangerous edge to it.

"Yo. Can you two keep it down in there?" came another voice. This one was deeper and the speaker lumbered heavily down the stairs. He stopped halfway between Erin and Zach. His tone was similar to Yvett's, though much less irritated, just sleepy.

"Juste! When did you get home?" asked Julius, wanting to take all attention as far away from himself and the subject of Yvett's ire. Erin and Zach were too young for Yvett's scoldings, but Juste was just at the age when people could start calling him a 'man,' and therefore, he had to endure his mother's beratings.

Juste, Yvett and Julius's eldest son had the same groggy look as his two younger siblings. Unlike the darker coloring of his siblings however, he had naturally bleached white hair, that was nearly halfway down to the small of his back when not tied. His eyes were a really light brown, almost yellow, a shade lighter than Zach's blue eyes.

It was a funny thing really, since Juste's looks had Julius questioning the fidelity of his wife. That question had earned Julius a really hard whack on the cheek and a month of nightly exile to the couch . Grandpa Julian never questioned Yvett though, and badgered the couple into naming the newborn Juste; probably so that they could have a catchy phrase for their trio, "the three Js." Grandpas had always been into the possibility of a rock band.

"When did I get home?" repeated Juste sleepily. He seemed to be formulating an answer while unconsciously bent down to pick up his little sister. "I don't quite remember."

Erin gave Juste no trouble since she was used to her older brother picking her up. She encircled her arms around her brother, taking care not to drop her dolly.

"Are you being smart with your father, young man?" said Yvett tartly. "You weren't out with a girl were you?" Her son's exotic looks and eerily athletic tendencies had always earned him admiration from the giggling girls at school. And often to Yvett's dismay, Juste returned those admirations.

Julius did not help either. He was actually proud that his son had gained so much attention. Julius's only failure was that he mentioned it over the dinner table, thus condemning the family to a month of boiled spinach.

No one really hated spinach that much, except Juste. That teenager hated spinach with unjustified passion for some odd reason. He said that Pop-eye, the totting sailor had somehow tramatized him at an early age; thus, he hated spinach.

"Mom," Juste began, repressing the urge to yawn. He just had some breath causing food for dinner and would rather not offend his little sister with it. He walked down and grabbed Zach's hand, preparing to taking his younger siblings up the stairs back to bed. "I am too tired to be smart with you." At the end of that sentence, he yawned loudly, turning his face toward his parents.

Julius almost puked at the smell of what was probably the strongest garlic he ever encountered. Yvett waved the air around her.

"So where were you?" demanded Yvett. "You are usually a night owl."

"Studying, mom," said Juste a bit planatively. "I do have to go to college at some point. And I know you'll just nag me to death like you do to pops if I don't go."

Yvett was clearly taken back by her son's responsible response. She was pleased that her son did listen to her, but she was annoyed that he had put it in such a negative tone. She supposed that he had to be doing some studying to win the Latin contest."Well, put Erin and Zach to sleep now," commanded Yvett. "They're up way past their bedtime."

"That's what I'm going to do," said Juste, talking down the steps to retrieve Zach. He was used to taking care of his younger siblings. He was ten years older than Erin, and five years older than Zach. He was at an age when Yvett considered him the replacement babysitter. And as long as Yvett never bothered him with babysitting when he had a date, everything was okay.

"Oh. By the way!" called Yvett. "Since it's Saturday tomorrow, I want you to help your father clean out the attic tomorrow."

At her announcement, Juste stooped his ascent up the stairs. He backtracked, his groggy eyes suddenly not so groggy. "What?"

His siblings seemed to freeze also, looking not as sleepy as before. Erin cluched Juste's neck tighter. Zach squeezed Juste's hand harder.

"Clean out the attic," said Yvett clearly. "I want junk thrown out."

Juste stared at his mother with his mouth slightly agape. It was a strange expression because Yvett could only recall one time when her son had given her that expression. Then Juste delivered his counter ultimatum. "No mom. I am not going into the attic. I will even eat boiled spinach for a year if I have to. But I am not going into the attic."

Yvett frowned. Usually Juste was a really good boy who did all the chores without complaint. "Why is that? You used to play in it all the time when you were a kid," asked Yvett.

Juste gave his mother a hard look.

Nervously, Zach spoke up.

"Mama. The attic is haunted."

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Suikorin