I'm back with another fic! Just something silly I came up with after coming home from seeing 'The Woman In Black' a week or so ago. So, instead of working on my other fics like I should be, I decided to write this. But I'll get to work on the others here shortly.

I'm not sure if it's going to turn out to be out serious like or funny... But, eh, whatever. It may turn out to be both.

I do not own Hetalia. ;A; If I did, UsUk would be canon.

Edit 01/04/2014: Here marks the beginning of any edits done to this story. Some edits may be obvious, others not so much. I can say that there is a possibility for some slight plot changes. As always, I hope you enjoy. And I still don't own Hetalia, as stated above.

Arthur Kirkland's home a mansion, so big it was very easy to get lost in, even for him though he was born and raised there. Endless hallway upon endless hallway connecting together, seeming to go on and on forever. Doors lead you in a circle to right back to where you started. Stairs brought you to floors of more mazes and puzzles for you to solve. If one did not pay close attention to where they were going, you would swear up and down that you did, indeed, pass that exact painting only moments ago.

Arthur loved his home. He loved all of the old memories he had from his childhood. Running down those hallways with his brothers, hiding behind doors and jumping out from behind said doors in attempt to scare his siblings. He loved all the new things that, even after living there all of his life, he was still discovering about the place. Of course, getting lost was rather bothersome for him at times, but it didn't happen too often. Though it was like an adventure when it did happen, and Arthur was very fond of adventures.

Some would think that living in such a big place would mean that a lot of other people lived with you. This was not the case at all for Arthur. Arthur lived in the mansion by himself. His family having either left him to live elsewhere or having passed away years ago. Though this didn't bother Arthur too much. He rather liked being alone. He enjoyed the quietness. In fact, Arthur very rarely ever left the place. Only traveling to the small town nearby for food and necessities when the need to do so arose. Because of this, the people of the town had created many rumors and myths about Arthur and that house. Many feared him, and many avoided him like the plague. They all thought he was bloody crazy, a loon, a nutjob.

And that's exactly what he was.

Arthur was crazy. Off his rocker. Insane. However you choose to word it. He talked to the empty air around him, claiming that the ghosts and fairies were his friends. He'd talk about how he and the fairies would run and play about the house and in the gardens. How he and the ghosts would have riveting conversations about the many different art pieces that adorned the place and some would share stories from the past. And every day at noon, they'd all get together and have a lovely tea party in the garden, weather permitting of course.

But that wasn't the only thing that labeled the lad as crazy. He was also a very harsh, sadistic, somewhat twisted man. He loved playing silly little mind games with the people he met, going as far as torturing some of the ones that got on his nerves. Or so the stories go. So, very few people dared to ever visit him at his estate, knowing well it'd be best for their health to stay away. But every once in a while there was always some cocky teenager who would show up, hoping to 'prove' himself to his friends by surviving the visit or something along those lines. Arthur, knowing very well the kid's intentions for visiting, always made a game of it, getting as much fun and entertainment as he could from it. It never ended well for the teen to say the least. No, Arthur never physically harmed them-at least not on purpose, as much as he'd like to, but at least left the kids mentally scarred for life. Needless to say, Arthur had the police called on him numerous times, but never had they succeed in arresting him. Most times the cops would go in but never come back out. Some believe that they still wander about the hallways of the mansion. Others believe that it is quite possible that Arthur killed them and possibly made them that evenings dinner.

As the years passed the people began seeing Arthur less and less until his visits to the town came to a complete halt. The towns people eventually sent people to the mansion to investigate, not that they were really worried about the man, just curious. What they found was horrifying. Walking into the mansion was like walking into a horrible blood bath. Blood had been smeared on almost every wall they came across. They searched the place for days, but they never did find Arthur, or any of the bodies of the people who had supposedly gone in and never came out. The conclusion they settled on was that Arthur had been murdered, hence his missing body. Though a few said that he mostly took his own life. But neither stories ever really added up.

The place was cleaned, or as clean as the people could get it without getting horribly lost, and put up for sale. None of the locals would ever consider buying the place, it being labeled as haunted a while after Arthur had been deemed deceased, so it was a very long time before some idiotic American foreigner came and bought the place on a whim.

Some of the people did their best to scare the newcomer away, telling him every story about the insane, malicious spirit that resided within the mansion walls. But this young, tenacious American could not be persuaded by the stories they told, for he did not believe in ghosts or any such things. Within a few days he had his things moved in and organized. And any paranoia or worry about what the locals had told him soon faded with the lack of anything of interest happening within the house. On his daily trips to the town the people would proceed to question him on how he was holding up and if anything weird or unusual was going on in the mansion. His answer, of course, was always no. Or at least for the first month or so, that is.

IVIVIVIVIVI

Alfred walked down a rather long hallway, yawning and stretching his arms as he did so. It was late and he had had a long, hard day of working around the house. The place was really old and had lots of things that needed to either be fixed or completely replaced. It was a lot of work for just one man to do alone, but he rather enjoyed the work. It gave him something to do.

He'd been living here for a good few months now. The locals had built this place up to be a place to be feared when he first came to ask about purchasing the estate. They never gave him to many details or reasons why not to buy the place, other then that it was haunted, so he dismissed their warnings as superstition and a hatred for new, unfamiliar people, as is common around small towns and villages. He'd hoped that after they got to know him that they'd stop with all the superstitious warnings and questions, but as time passed he didn't see it stopping any time soon.

Alfred stopped in front of a wide, fading, red door. Pushing the door open, he entered a rather large bedroom, still decorated in the same old fashion way as it first was by it's previous owner. Alfred was planning on changing it at some point to something more modern, but every time he tried to do it something in the back of his mind always stopped him from doing so. He couldn't pinpoint what it was that was stopping him, all he could figure out was that the thought of doing anything to the room gave him a bad feeling. But he wrote the bad feelings off as being caused by the stories the locals told him.

He sighed, closing the door behind him and promptly started pulling off the layers of clothing he was currently wearing, carelessly tossing them onto the floor. He glanced into the mirror hanging on the wall, and thought to himself that he probably should have it taken down. It was a big mirror, taking up the better portion of one wall. He didn't really enjoy having to look at himself constantly while in the room, as handsome as he was.

Now only dressed in red, white and blue boxers, Alfred made his way over to the huge bed that occupied the middle of the room. He placed his glasses on the bedside table and crawled under the heavy covers, getting cozy. He was almost asleep when he heard what sounded like somebody mumbling and fussing over something. He shot up to a sitting position, frantically taking in his surroundings, searching for any intruders in the dark shadows.

"W-who's there?" He stammered, though he had tried hard not to. He couldn't see anyone in the room with him, but he most certainly could still hear them. "I can hear that you are in here, s-show yourself or get out n-now." He tried his best to sound threatening and tough, but the truth was that he really didn't want the intruder to show themselves and hoped that they'd just leave.

Getting no answer, Alfred got out of bed and quickly ran across the room to turn on the lights. There was not a single trace of anyone in the room. But what Alfred did notice was that his clothes were no longer thrown about the room, but instead folded neatly on a chair. Strange, Alfred thought to himself. He decided to shrug it off and went back to bed. Alright, so his clothes were now folded, so what? That's nothing to be scared about, right? Of course not. That's just plain silly.

He slept through the rest of the night as soundly as he could, no sign of anyone being in his room. When he woke up again that morning, he was surprised to see that his close were sprawled about back on the floor again. He blinked, staring at the clothing. They had been folded, hadn't they? Or had he just dreamt that? Not caring to think too much of it, Alfred went through his regular morning routine of showering, making coffee, and eating breakfast.

Alfred's day went pretty much as it normally would. He worked on painting the parlor room, finding the original color horribly outdated and in dire need of painting. He ate lunch in town, bought a few groceries, then continued his work in the parlor once again once he returned. It wasn't until around dinner time that something strange happened.

Alfred was walking down the hallway that lead to the kitchen when he smelt something cooking, or more rather, burning. He didn't remember starting anything in there but none the less ran the rest of the way just in case he did and had simply forgotten. When he reached the kitchen he found it completely empty and cold. Nothing was on the stove or in the oven, and the burning smell had completely vanished. He shook his head, remembering something an old woman in town had once told him.

"Young lad, do you have the time to spare for me to ask you a few questions?" An elderly woman asked, approaching Alfred, who was sitting in a booth at the only restaurant in the small town.

"Sure." Alfred grinned at the lady and motioned for her to take a seat across from him.

"You're the kid who bought up the Kirkland mansion atop that hill a ways, right?" She asked as she sat down.

Alfred nodded, he got that question often. "Yes, I am."

"And I'm sure others have told you about the place?"

Another nod. "Yes, ma'am."

"Have any of them ever told you about the man who lived there, specifically?"

Alfred shook his head this time. They have told him very little about the man himself who used to live there before him other then he haunted the place and that he was a bit crazy. That was it. "No, not really."

"I see." She paused in thought for a moment. "Have you ever smelt a burning smell coming from the kitchen when you weren't cooking anything?"

What does that have to do with anything? "No, ma'am, I haven't. May I ask what that has to do with the previous owner of the mansion?"

"They say he was a horrible cook, burned or poisoned almost everything he made. Others say that he cooked up the people that have gone missing in that mansion."

"Is that so?" Alfred asked, feigning interest in what the old lady was saying. He didn't really care to listen to their stories, especially when they dealt with ghosts. He just didn't believe in such things.

She nodded, white hair bobbing with the movement. "Say that he would force people to eat his food. Anyone who did ended up sick with a food poisoning of sorts. Only a few have actually survived." She paused briefly, "They also say that if you're at the right place, at the right time you can smell the burning of food and see the smoke come from the chimney."

Now Alfred was wondering if that was really true... But of course it wasn't true. It was just his imagination getting to him from the lack of sleep, that had to be it. The town people were just messing with him and that was that. Alfred continued to repeat this to himself as he went about making his dinner. He made himself a few burgers, taking them into the dining room with him when they were finished. The dining room was long and narrow. A long, wooden table was placed along the center, chairs surrounding the entire perimeter of the table. He took a seat at what Alfred had correctly assumed to be the head of the table, with the fancy chair that was placed there compared to all the others around the rest of the table.

The smell of something burning soon returned. He looked back through the archway into the kitchen. Alfred was surprised to find that said room was billowing with black smoke. Alfred scrambled into the kitchen, looking for the source of the smoke, thinking that he must've left something on. He found nothing. And just as soon as soon as the smoke had come it was gone again.

Alfred rubbed at his eyes, trying to eliminate the smoke that had gotten into them. Once he removed his hands from his eyes he took the time to inspect the room. "What the hell?" Upon the counter by the stove sat a plate of… indefinable food. It was black and charred, smelling heavily of the smoke that had filled the room. He picked up one of the burnt objects. And for a moment he considered taking a bite from it, but not wanting to take any chances with getting sick, he set it back down. Concluding that he was just tired and thinking way too much about what the locals had been telling him, because that was the most rationally thing he could think of, Alfred quickly cleaned everything up, having lost his appetite and headed for his room.

Again, Alfred didn't believe in ghosts or hauntings. No, that was just silly. Such things were impossible. The people who claimed to be haunted by a ghost were just crazy people seeing things or people desperate to get on T.V. That was all there was to it. Simple as that. He had no reason to believe in spirits or ghosts. None at all. And this house and the crazy towns people weren't going to change his mind on that subject.

Alfred stopped short in the hallway, merely feet away from his bedroom. The door was open, and he was absolutely sure that he had closed it this morning when he left the room, he always closed the door. How odd, he thought to himself. He continued into the room, though passing through the doorway was like walking outside during the winter, freezing cold. He shivered, why was it so cold? It was only in this room too. The rest of the house had been perfectly warm.

"There must be something up with the heating or something." Alfred mumbled to himself. He had originally planned to do more work after dinner, but after today's events he thought it best to turn in early. Plus, he was freezing and the covers of his bed were invitingly warm.

IVIVIVIVIVI

A few days passed without any weird occurrences and Alfred began to believe he had just imagined it all. A random bout of craziness, you could say. He had stopped his work for a bit, deciding that it was the stress and paint fumes getting to him. But it turned out that that wasn't quite the case.

Alfred was walking about the garden that lay hidden behind the mansion. It was a nice day, sunny with only a few clouds. Days like this were very rare for usually it was rainy and cloudy. But despite how peaceful and calm it was out there, Alfred couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched or followed or something. He was constantly checking over his shoulders and in the bushes around him but he never found anyone there.

Irritated with the feeling of being watched and followed and not being able to find who it was, though he knew someone was most certainly there, he called out, "I know you're there! Show yourself, you coward!"

No one stepped out from behind the bushes or trees. No one materialized right in front of him either. But he did hear the distinct sound of footsteps coming from behind him. Alfred turned around quickly, but saw nothing there. He was about to leave and head back for the house, hoping to escape from the eerie feeling of being watched, and was just turning back when a rock went flying past him, just barely missing him.

"Holy shit!" Alfred exclaimed, looking back in the direction the rock had come from. He'd been expecting to see someone standing there or at least the retreating back of the one who'd thrown the rock. But there was still no one there to be seen. There was absolutely no one there, though he could have sworn he heard footsteps and could feel someone stop only feet away from him. The air around him became cold, making him shiver. Alfred stood completely still. He could feel someone touching his arm and breathing down his neck. He was sure of it.

Just as fast as the coldness had come, much like the smoke had, it was gone. Alfred let out a deep breath he didn't even know he'd been holding it in the first place. He took a few deep, shaky breaths then quickly headed inside, no longer wanting to be outside. Once inside, he slammed the door behind him, as if whatever was outside wouldn't be able to get in, which was hardly the case.

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. "I'm letting those silly old tales get to my head. That's all. I just imagined that whole thing outside. I've always been told that I have a rather active imagination, after all." He attempted to rationalize what had happened in the garden. And it somewhat worked. The more he said it was his imagination, the better he felt.

The rest of his afternoon went without much event. It was calm and quiet. Alfred even decided to go back to working on the house. With the distraction of work, Alfred was able to forget about the incident in the garden for a little bit. It was nice while it lasted. It all came back to him, though, walking down the hallway to his room. In the distance Alfred could hear the sound of doors being opened and closed in another hallway nearby. With the slam of each door followed soft footsteps.

Alfred hurried into his room, quietly closing and locking the door behind him. His heart raced, the lights beginning to flicker on and off as the footsteps came closer. The room grew cold, very cold, much like it had before.

"P-please leave me alone." Alfred stammered, feeling the presence of something in the room with him. "I'm sorry if I angered you, dude." It was the only thing he could think to say.

The lights went out completely, leaving Alfred in the dark. Harsh laughter came from the far, dark corner of the room across from him. This made chills crawl up Alfred's spine. He didn't like the sound of that laugh. He didn't like the fact that he could hear any laughter at all. He peered into the corner from which the sound came from, hoping to catch sight of who was there. All he could make out, though, was the dark, vague form of a humanoid figure.

"Heh, he thinks that he's angered me. Cute." The voice echoed around the room. It was a males voice, thick with a British accent, much like everyone else in the town. "Not angry, my boy, annoyed would be the better term. Especially after you called me 'dude', but that's beside the point."

"W-who are you?" Alfred tried to sound brave. He tried, but it didn't work. His question was pretty dumb too, since he had a pretty good guess as to who it was, as much as he hated to admit that fact.

"Oh, I'm sure the towns people have told you something or another about me. They have quite the stories about me, truly." Alfred could hear the smirk on the man's face. More chills ran up and down his spine. "But if you need the introduction, I am Arthur Kirkland."

"Why don't you show yourself, Arthur? I know it's you who's been doing all those things! So why don't you stop hiding already?" Alfred had no idea where any of that came from. He was just tired of talking to and being scared of an unknown face.

The dark figure hummed, pondering his options. "Hm, alright." The dark figure stepped out of the corner, the moonlight coming from the window making him visible. He had messy, short, blond hair. His eyes were a brilliant, glowing, emerald green. He was somewhat translucent but his skin was still obviously very pale. His clothing style was that of which Alfred did not recognize for it was that of an older style. He didn't look much older than Alfred, though. Maybe three or four years older. And though he looked small and frail, comparatively speaking to Alfred at least, he held himself in a way that made him seem powerful.

There ya go! I hope you enjoyed this silly thing!

So, as is custom on my stories lately, I'll leave you guys with a few questions for you to answer if you so choose to do so.

1: What is your opinion of Ghost!Arthur?

2: Is Arthur really as mean and crazy as the people make him out to be?

3: How is Alfred going to deal with the ghost?

4: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits?

That's it for now. ^^ Please review, it makes me happy and more motivated to continue writing.

Edit: After reading through this, I have come to the conclusion that this fic is completely silly and ridiculous and I have no idea why any of you even like it. However, I shall continue with my edits and leave you with hopes of possible future chapters to come.