A/N: I wrote this when I was sick and took too much NyQuil xD 

Stay tuned for tomorrow. I’ll have a more romantic fic planned.

@weekofhetalia 

Arthur’s
POV:

It was a late Friday night, and against my will, my
friends had invited themselves over, as per usual. Correction, I invited my
younger neighbors Matthew and Alfred over, otherwise known as the twins, while
the frog (Francis) came on his own free will, but certainly not mine. Francis
was a senior in high school like myself, whereas the twins were both juniors.

Since October was the peak of anything paranormal, I
decided to put an end to the mystery surrounding the hauntings occurring in my
home. My family has a history of having the Sight, which means we’re able to
communicate with spirits. However, the spirit haunting my family refused to
show itself, – or should I say herself? – so we were forced to put up with its
shenanigans. I grew up with these hauntings, whether it being misplaced socks,
random knocks on the walls, or footsteps in rooms where no one alive was in.

But not anymore. I wouldn’t put up with it for any
longer.

Impulsive, young, and stubborn as I’ve always been, I
bought a Ouija board from Toys’ R US the other day, thinking I would finally be
able to make contact with this spirit and get rid of it. Alistair, my older
brother and guardian, was gone for the weekend, so this would have been the
perfect opportunity for me to prove my worth as a spiritual communicator.

My god, words cannot explain how badly I fucked up.

Regardless, I didn’t know that at the time. My pride
often got in the way of me thinking rationally.

Anyway, the four of us were sitting in the basement’s
lounge, decked in comfortable sweatshirts and sweatpants.

Even Francis was wearing a white hoodie that obnoxiously
read “I love Paris” on the front of it. He was wearing silk pajama pants
though, so I suppose his fashion sense still carried with him wherever he went.
Unfortunately, fashion sense didn’t necessarily equate to class.

Francis, seemingly out of nowhere, had procured an entire
bottle of wine, taking swigs of it as he draped his hairy arms over the loveseat
like he owned it. Alfred and Matthew were sharing the two-person couch, each
fiddling with a 3DS in their hands.

Meanwhile, I was sitting cross-legged on the ground,
setting up the Ouija board and lighting several candles.

“You still plan to go through with this?” Francis asked
me, slurring slightly.

I reached out to confiscate the bottle of wine from him. “All
right, you’ve had enough of that,” I grunted, ignoring Francis’s protests.
“It’s my house, you cold-blooded tart. I can’t have the cops coming over to
arrest you.”

“Ah, oui,” Francis mumbled and then proceeded to lower
his voice to snidely insult me in French.

I padded over to the mini-kitchen in my basement, placing
the half-empty wine bottle in the fridge.

Alfred looked up from his 3DS, his face paling despite
the determined expression he held. “M-man, I thought you were just kidding
about using that thing!” he exclaimed.

“No, you ninny,” I rolled my eyes. “Have I ever joked
about something like this? I’m tired of this spirit messing with me. It’s not
exactly a friendly one either,” I trailed off ominously.

Matthew closed his 3DS, only to yelp when Alfred clutched
his right arm for dear life. The latter had always been unreasonably terrified
of the supernatural. “What do you mean by, ‘not friendly’”? he asked softly,
violet eyes blinking not in fear but rather, curiosity.

I patted the ground, inviting my friends +1 to sit in a
circle in front of the Ouija board resting on the carpet. I needed them close
so that I could explain everything properly.

Once the lights were dimmed slightly and I had my mobile’s
flash pressed under my chin, I began my performance. I spoke slowly, knowing
that Alfred was slow to pick up on things, but also in the spookiest voice I
could muster. Francis and Matthew were both unfazed, taking more amusement in
how much Alfred was trembling.

I chuckled lowly, allowing a satisfied smirk to creep
onto my face. “Rumour has it that 70 years ago, three siblings moved into this
house after migrating here from Russia. There was a brother and two sisters.
The youngest sister was mentally ill, but refused to get help. Her siblings
agreed with this, probably because they knew she would be institutionalized for
the rest of her life if she was turned in to the authorities. The mentally ill
sibling’s name was Natalia. Weirdly enough, the records only show her name if
you google the murders.”

“MURDERS?!” Alfred spluttered.

“Muahahaha! Yes, murders! Your ignorant two-celled brain
heard me right!” I snickered. Perhaps I was getting a bit too immersed in the
story. I had always been quite the shit-disturber.

“Natalia was obsessed with her older brother; you could
even say it was a fixation. When she heard that her brother had found a spouse,
she completely lost her marbles. Things took a turn for the worse when the
brother admitted to Natalia that he was engaged, and that she wasn’t invited to
the wedding…”

Matthew elbowed Francis. “This sounds like a soap opera
you would watch,” he commented.

Francis absently nodded his head, waiting for me to
continue with wide sapphire eyes.

Alfred was full-out whimpering at this point.

“Now, you see, for you guys to understand why things
happened the way they did, you need to know that Natalia suffered from
religious delusions. She saw her brother as some sort of God, an icon if you
will. And for him to be marrying someone unworthy was utterly preposterous to
her. Enraged, Natalia began to break things in a fit of uncontrollable anger –
there’s a dent over there by that wall where she supposedly threw a knife!”

I paused, pointing towards the dent I had actually made
myself when I was younger. I had thrown an overcooked scone at my brother’s
head, angry at him for insulting my culinary skills – not that he was any
better mind you.

“When her sister tried to stop her, Natalia stabbed her
to death. Soon, Natalia had lost all sense of reality. Her brother couldn’t
hold her back, as she didn’t realize what she was doing – she was just that
furious. She ended up killing her brother too before slitting her own throat,
horrified when she realized what she had done.

“And that my friends, is the haunting tale of Natalia A.
To this day, she still resides in this house. If you listen closely at night,
you can even hear the sounds of her scraping a knife against the walls,
taunting those brave enough to confront her.”

“Really?” Matthew whispered to me.

“Of course not,” I mouthed back, smirking. I was enjoying
Alfred’s reaction far too much to back out now.

Francis cooed at Alfred, rubbing circles into his back
before looking up to glare at me. “Nice going, you imbecile. You scared le poor
diabetic fils. If his blood pressure spikes, his death will be on your hands!”

“He’ll be fine,” I shrugged, indifferent.

Alfred had already cupped both hands over his ears.
“Nope, nope to the infinity. I’m not doing this right now. I betcha anything it
was Communism that killed them, stupid Ruskies. This is just a made-up folktale,”
he rambled to himself.

“It’s real, Alfred,” I countered, reaching for my phone.
“I’ll pull up the records if I have to.”

“Screw this, I’m hungry. Not today, Satan. Not today.”
Shrugging off Francis, Alfred stood up and walked into the mini-kitchen. He
began pawing his way through the freezer, pulling out leftover cheesecake.

The remaining three of us sighed, going back to the
story.

“So…” Francis drawled, looking uneasy for once. “You want
to make contact with this Natalia…why?”

“Yeah,” Matthew chimed in, which was unusual for him. He
only spoke when it was absolutely necessary; often enough it was to stop us
from doing something reckless and stupid. Wait…

“Are you sure this
is a good idea? I mean, you said so yourself, she murdered people… her siblings no less…” Matthew mumbled.

“Relax,” I reassured them. “I’m a spiritual communicator.
I’ve got complete control over this situation. All we’ll be doing is speaking
to her. If things get weird, I can always just end the conversation.”

Francis and Matthew didn’t look very assured, but they
didn’t offer any further protest either. They were more intrigued than anything
else.

Before I could get to explaining the rules of the board,
the microwave beeped.

“What the hell?!” I spluttered, turning. “Alfred, did you
just microwave a cheesecake?”

“Y-yeah! It makes it soft! I’m nervous, okay? I need
something in my stomach if we’re going through with this!”

“It’s cream cheese! It’s already soft, are you daft?!
That’s it, I’m cutting you off from drinking any more Mountain Dew. That sugar
is eroding at any remaining common sense you have!” I stormed into the kitchen.

Alfred wailed as I poured an entire two litres of
Mountain Dew down the sink. It fizzled as I did so; what in the bloody hell did
they put in these soft drinks? Poison? Carcinogens? Radioactive material?

“Angleterre, you have no right to criticize him on what
food he eats,” Francis chided, unwelcomed to interrupt. “Just yesterday you
made scones that were hard enough to be used as a murder weapon.”

“I still have those you know,” I huffed, dragging Alfred
back into the lounge like a mother hen. The American sobbed, placing a lumpy
spoonful of cheesecake into his mouth. “Don’t make me use them,” I warned.

Francis raised his hands in surrender, knowing full-well
that my threat bore some reality to it.

“All right,” I sighed, grabbing a remote from a nearby
coffee table. I dimmed the lights further so that the ring of candles around us
were the only light sources in the room. “Let’s go over the instructions, shall
we?”

Alfred grabbed the remote, flicking on the lights again.
“Dude, no. First, I can’t see my cheesecake, and secondly, no again! You’re
giving the ghost chick an advantage if we can’t see her sneak up on us.”

“Fine,” I sighed. I compromised by turning off half the
lights. “Happy?”

“No, but this cheesecake is hella satisfying.”

“Can I have a bite?” Francis asked.

“Dude, no. Get your own.”

“HELLO! If you morons are done with your squabbling, I’d
like to get on with this.”

Silence.

I cleared my throat. “All right, how this works is
simple. We all place our fingers on the planchette and let the spirit guide our
hands to spell out letters or to answer yes or no questions on the board. If
any of you fools even dare to move your hands as a prank, so help me god. The
most important rule to stand by is to NEVER take your hand off the planchette
unless or until we break off communication. If you do that, you are susceptible
to getting possessed. I’ll repeat myself again: keep your hand on the
planchette at all times if you do decide to participate. Don’t ever pull
away your hand unless communication is officially broken off with the spirit.”

Silence, again. For once, my friends weren’t arguing.

“If at any time things get unsafe, we must move the
planchette to the end of the board where it spells out goodbye; that will break
off communication and prevent us from being possessed if the spirit is
malicious. Are we all clear?”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“Right, then let’s get started.”

“Wait,” Alfred reached out to pull down my hood. “Stop
trying to look like a thug.”

“I’m not trying to look like a thug! I come from a line
of druids, damn you! I’m just trying to honour my heritage!” I blurted out.

“You look like a pasty snowflake at best…”

“SCREW YOU AND YOUR HIGH CHOLESTEROL!”

Francis laughed, snapchatting this entire fiasco.

Alfred furrowed his brows. “What does that even mean?”

“GUYS! FOCUS!” Matthew raised his voice, a very odd
occurrence. “Just apologize, and get over with it. If we’re going to be doing
this, we need to be on each other’s side in the event that something goes
wrong.”

Matthew was right.

Alfred sighed, speaking through puckered lips. “I’m sorry
you’re so sensitive, Artie. It must be because I’m two inches taller than you
and you’re trying to overcompensate for somethin’…”

“What kind of bloody apology is that?!”

WHACK!

Francis whacked the back of my head while Matthew whacked
Alfred’s. I hadn’t even done anything wrong!

After ushering out real apologies, we all moved our hands
onto the planchette. Unfortunately, my hand was stuck between the frog’s and
Alfred’s.

Alfred grabbed my free hand with his. “No homo,” he
muttered to me. “I just want to protect ya.”

Bullshit. The yank was scared.

“We’re both bi-sexual,” I hissed with a whisper. “And
what did I say about using derogatory sayings like that!? Tsk, idiot.”

Cue another pointless argument.

Eventually, we all settled down and began with the
ritual.

I instructed everyone to move the planchette in a few
circles around the board before asking the first question.

“Is anyone there?” I inquired. “I assure you we mean no
harm.”

The planchette began to move towards the top right of the
board, where Yes was spelled out in
bold black letters.

“I swear if one of you twats are faking this!” I growled
in warning.

“Dude, I’m not doing anything!” Alfred panicked.

“Mon dieu, did it just get colder in here?”

Matthew’s shoulders slumped. “Well, it was a nice life
while it lasted. A bit more boring than I would have liked it to be, but I
can’t complain.”

The planchette stopped, hovering over the Yes section of
the board.

I cleared my throat. “Hello, nice to meet you. Can you
spell out your name?”

The planchette began to move.

N

A

T

I stopped the spirit right there. “Natalia, is this
Natalia A.?”

The planchette moved to Yes again.

“Oh man! Oh man! Oh man!” Alfred rambled. “We’re all
going to die! I’m never going to be able to lose my virginity! I’m going to die
a loser, like, like Artie!”

“It’s still not too late,” Francis purred.

“SHUT UP!” I exploded. “Do not break the ritual.”

“Natalia, is it? Tell me. Why do you steal my socks… or
trip people when they’re least expecting it? Is that fun for you?”

The planchette moved into the space between Yes and No. I
took that as a maybe.

“Do you not like my family living here? Is that it?”

Yes.

“What do you want from us?”

The planchette began to spell out something.

D

I

“DUDE IT BETTER NOT BE SPELLING WHAT I THINK IT IS!”

E

Well fuck.

“Hey, chick-ghost-dudette?” Alfred piped in. “Putting
aside you murdering us for a quick second, can you tell me what Artie hides
under his bed? It’s really weird how embarrassed he gets when I poke around
there.”

Y

A

O

I

“It’s lying!” I cried out, blushing profusely.

I didn’t even bother to acknowledge Francis’s smug
all-knowing expression.

“Do ya really want to murder us, though? Like, I get it.
You’ve been dead for a while, probs haven’t seen any action,” Alfred continued.

“Are you insane?!” I snapped. “You’re only provoking it,
don’t you realize-!”

BANG!

The ceiling above us thudded, prompting everyone to
scream and jump a little.

Everyone but Alfred knew not to take their hands off the
planchette.

I realized this when it was already too late. “Alfred,
don’t!”

Alfred yelped, only to fall onto his back, twitching.

“What do we do?!” Francis screeched.

“Don’t let go, we still have to say goodbye!” I
instructed.

Matthew grabbed the remote with his free hand, turning
the lights back on. I really wish he hadn’t. Alfred was frothing at the mouth,
a single tear of blood streaking down his right cheek as he continued to
convulse uncontrollably.

“Big…brother…”
Alfred gasped in a voice several higher octaves than his own.

“Where…are…youuuuuuuu…?”

How could things go this wrong, this fast?

“It was a pleasure, Natalia. But I really ought to let
you go now,” I pressed, struggling along with Francis and Matthew to move the
planchette towards the bottom of the board, where the word Goodbye was spelt out.

But, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t move the
planchette. It was like something was pushing against us – much stronger in
strength no less.

“It’s not working!” I screamed.

Francis and Matthew joined my screaming when the Ouija
board was thrust into the air. We all let go, paralyzed in fear as we watched
it slam into the wall opposite of us.

Matthew was the first to crouch by Alfred. “Alfred,
Alfred! Wake up! Fight back, damn it!” he sobbed, slapping at Alfred’s cheeks.

“This is your fault!” Francis accused, jabbing an index
finger at me. “You should have tutored him better in English. Maybe then he’d
actually know how to follow instructions!”

“As if arguing is going to help with anything! Crap! I
think I have a Bible upstairs! We’ll have to perform an exorcism!” I shouted.

Matthew leapt back when Alfred began to laugh
hysterically, sitting up abruptly. A cryptic smirk was on his face as he licked
his lips, tasting his own blood.

I reluctantly present to you, Natfred.

“A-Alfred,” I asked. “You in there, lad?”

“Alfred is gone,”
Natfred laughed in a cold, feminine voice. The lights flickered.

“And soon you will all be too. I must find a
suitable body for my brother. Then we can live happily ever after! But first,
I’m going to need to spill a lot of blood. My, my, you’re all so young. It’ll
make killing you a lot harder. Especially that one,” (she? He? It?) pointed
to Francis. “I don’t usually like
killing one of my own.”

“What do you mean by that?” Francis quivered as we all
began to back away from Natfred, intending to run up the staircase at a
moment’s opportunity.

“Are you not a
woman?” Natfred asked.

“Oui, oui I am!” Francis pleaded. “Si vous plait, have
mercy!”

“He’s lying,” Matthew and I both retorted.

“Some friends you are!”

“You had no problem throwing us under the bus!”

“What is this then,
a gathering of homosexuals?” Natfred remarked. “It would make a lot of sense. This one– Natfred pointed at me
–  really
likes shipping his fictional characters. It’s insufferable. For years, I’ve had
to watch him lament about this ‘doctor’. And here I thought I was crazy.”

“DOCTOR WHO IS GREAT, YOU DEMONIC SHE-HEATHEN!” I raged.

“Arthur, not the best time,” Matthew snapped, being the
closest one to the staircase.

Francis, however, gave us both a look, communicating the
universal sign for ‘I’ll act as a distraction and then we run for our fucking
lives’.

Matthew and I nodded our heads in assent.  

“Tell me, ah, Natalia, who is it do you think is the
gayest of us all?” Francis asked.

Natfred narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“Since you’ve passed, it’s been medically proven that
gays are amongs the strongest of humans. You want a strong body for your
brother, oui?” Francis lied through his teeth. I was beginning to question just
how drunk he was. What was he on about now?

“Oh, how
interesting. If that’s the case, it’s definitely him,” Natfred pointed at
me, again.

“WHAT, WHY ME?” I whined.

Natfred glared, as if what she had just concluded was
obvious. “I just do.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Enough, this is such
a bore,” Natfred drawled. “You’ll
all be far more interesting once I hang the losing bodies as trophies. I’ve
been wanting to re-decorate this place.”

Natfred then held out its (I decided on the pronoun,
don’t get cheeky with me) right hand, snapping its fingers. A ghostly butcher
knife, one that had seen better days and still had blood on it, popped into
view.

“Who wants to die
first?” Natfred waggled the butcher knife.

“RETREAT!” Francis bellowed, prompting all three of us to
turn on our heels and run up the basement’s staircase – the literal devil was
on our heels.

Natfred hissed, sprinting forward only to have the
basement’s door slammed in its face. Francis and I held the door shut while Matthew
grabbed several chairs for us to block the entrance with. Unfortunately,
Natfred possessed Alfred’s near inhuman strength as well.

“Why run if you’re
just going to die anyway? Face death like a man, you scoundrels!” It
hissed, throwing an immense amount of weight against the other side of the
door.

“NOW!” Matthew barked as Francis and I leapt out of the
way and began piling chairs and tables against the basement door.

Not a second later, Natfred headbutted the door,
splinters and dust flying everywhere as it poked its head into view. Its eyes
were no longer cerulean under the spectacles it wore, but rather a strange
gray-blue. We were losing Alfred more and more by the minute.

“Hide!” I shrieked.

“We can’t just leave him there!” Matthew begged. “How do
we get this demon out of him? You said you have a Bible, where the heck is
it?!”

“Can’t we just sacrifice Arthur? Let’s do a group vote,
non?”

“Ugh! We don’t have time for this!”

I grabbed Matthew by the arm and began tugging him along
with Francis towards our storage room. Meanwhile, Natfred was continuing to
break through the door. We needed to find a good hiding spot where I could
think and come up with a proper plan of attack.

“Over here!” I whispered, opening the door of the
cupboard that lay underneath the staircase leading to the third floor. Yes, it
was a real life Harry Potter room, moving on.

I closed the door and slid down on the floor. Matthew was
the only one not out of breath to pull out his phone, illuminating the small space.

“Well, Monsieur spiritual communicator,” Francis spoke
using air quotes, nervously pacing back and forth. His sanity was clearly not
all there. “What now? How are we going to escape this alive after this massive
fuck-up of yours? Mon dieu, never mind. I’ve already given up. Maybe if I
surrender, she’ll let me drink some wine first.”

“NO!” Matthew and I cried out, grabbing both of Francis’s
wrists before he could leave the room and give our location away.

“Get your priorities straight, will you?” I snapped. “And
stop thinking so negatively. I’ll get us out of this.”

“How?!”

“I don’t know, just give me a minute to think!”

“We may not have a minute!” Matthew warned, wincing at
the sound of a chair being thrown against a wall.

Natfred was free.

“Come out, come
out, wherever you are,” Natfred taunted.

“Okay!!” I clasped my forehead with one hand. “I think I
got it…”

I had to pause again as the sound of knives scraping
against each other echoed across the house.

Natfred had found Alistair’s knife collection.

“I’ll be the one to distract Natalia this time. While I
do that, Matthew, I need you grab the Ouija board and planchette. Francis, you grab
the Bible on the table by the front door; if I somehow fail at distracting
Natalia, it’s your job to make sure she doesn’t notice what Matthew’s doing.”

“What exactly am I doing?” Matthew asked, lips quivering.

“Move the planchette towards goodbye. You’ll be cutting
off our communication with her,” I explained. “We’re still in session, and will
be until that happens. Does everyone understand the plan?”

I received two “oui’s” in response.

“All right,” I straightened my posture. “Let’s save that
moronic tosser. On my lead, 1…2…3… Go!”

I thrust open the cupboard’s door, sprinting ahead to
give Francis and Matthew some space and time to sneak by while I acted as a
distraction.

I found Natfred sharpening two knives in the kitchen.
When it spotted me walking into view from the hallway, it grinned widely,
murderous in its intent. It wasn’t the aloof, goofy grin I was used to seeing
on Alfred – this image would likely haunt me for the rest of my life, which
could very well only be the next ten minutes if my plan wasn’t successful.

“Succumbed to your
fate, have you?” Natfred mused. “Although,
I was kinda hoping for the other two. You might not be strong enough for my
brother to possess.”

“Oh,” I quirked a brow, my strong tone contradicting how
much my knees were trembling. “And what makes you think your brother would want
to come back and live with you? You murdered him, remember?”

Natfred faltered. “I-It
was an accident! He knows that! I’m sure he’ll forgive me! He always does!”

“Hmmm yeah, I don’t think so,” I responded, stepping to
the side to block Natfred’s view of Matthew and Francis sneaking into the
living room. “I think he’d be pretty pissed off. I mean, he had his whole life
set right out for him. He was going to get married, and you just had to ruin
that, didn’t you? Why? Because you were selfish. You wanted your brother for
yourself, and when you couldn’t have him, you threw a tantrum like a rotten
five-year-old child. If you really cared about your brother, you would let him
rest in peace, wherever he ended up.”

I needed to make Natalia furious; to confuse her just as
much.

Natfred’s eyes glowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” it shrieked. “My brother deserved better than that… than
that bitch! Now I have the chance to give him a better life. I’ll do anything
to make that happen! He was a King! He deserved more!”

Natfred’s eyes briefly flickered to its original cerulean
hue.

Behind me, Matthew stepped out of the basement,
planchette and Ouija board in hand. He ducked, hiding from sight by using the
living room couch to his advantage. Francis sat next to him, holding a Bible
for likely the first time in his life as he prayed.

Both were successful in their part of the plan; it was
time for me to follow through as well. It was my fault we had ended up in a
situation like this. It was time to take some damn responsibility.

“You’re overcompensating,” I hummed without missing a
beat. Alfred was still in there, I just knew it.

“No, you’re a brat. A petty brat who’s trying to
rationalize the impossible. You’re a stone-cold murderer. You don’t deserve
even the body you’re occupying now. You know why? Because Alfred is stronger
than you’ll ever be. He knows what compassion is, what it is to truly love
someone. But you’ll never feel that because you’re a psychopath without any
capacity for emotions. You never loved your brother. You tainted his life with
your filthy greed!”

“SHUT UP!”
Natfred screeched. “I should have killed
you when I had the chance!”

I yelped when Natfred threw a knife at me. Luckily, I
ducked to the side. The knife had crashed into the living room window, sending
glass flying everywhere.

Natfred continued to throw knives at me, but somehow, I
was able to dodge them all. It then proceeded to throw a blender and toaster at
me.

“Jesus Christ!” I swore in the heat of the moment. “Are
you trying to kill me?! Oh…”

Tragically, all good luck must come to an end.

Natfred pinned me against the counter. “It’s time for you to die,” it hissed,
grabbing me by the collar of the shirt.

I hovered over the ground by two feet. “Alfred,” I
wheezed. “I know you’re in there. It’s me, Arthur. Fight back, damn you! I know
you’re stronger than this! Y-you can’t die! You were right. There’s so many
things we never got to do together! I miss you, you dumbass. I want to do
stupid things and grow old together, arguing and whatnot. You’re my best
friend, so you better fucking come back already!”

“Alfred is gone, I
told you that!”

“LET HIM GO!”

CRASH!

Natfred let go of me, falling forward as a Bible smacked
into its back. “YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

Well, that was one way to repel a demon with a Bible.

“Francis, you tart. What in the bloody hell are you
doing!” I gasped, backing away as Natfred whipped around to glare at Francis.

“Protecting you!” Francis answered, wavering slightly.
“Only I can bully you and get away with it!”

Francis everyone.

“You were supposed to use the Bible to repel her
figuratively, not literally!”

“It wasn’t working!” Francis shrugged as I joined him by
his side. “I had no choice. She was about to kill you.”

I shrugged. “Can’t argue with that logic.”

“GUYS! IT’S READY!” Matthew shrieked.

Francis and I both exchanged wide-eyed looks before
sprinting into the living room, crouching next to Matthew in front of the Ouija
board.

“WHERE ARE YOU
GOING NOW!?” Natfred bellowed, but it was already too late.

We circled the planchette on the board before finally
placing it on Goodbye.

“GOODBYE!” Francis, Matthew and I all shrieked.

Natfred collapsed to the ground, twitching once more.

“Aha!” I cried out in triumph. “I hope you rot in hell,
right where you belong. You will no longer haunt this house. I revoke any invitation
for you to come back. Let this board seal you for eternity!”

Natfred looked up at the ceiling with blank eyes. “Brother, I am sorry,” it wheezed. “Perhaps another day we will be reunited. I
will find you, mark my words…”

Natfred made a cliché ‘bleh’ sound before falling still.

I didn’t have time to let out a breath of relief as I had
received smacks to both cheeks.

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Matthew and Francis shrieked before
crouching over the remains of Natfred, ahem, Alfred.

“Yes, yes, I know,” I bowed my head. “Let’s see if he’s
okay. You can lecture me later.”

Matthew pressed his ear to Alfred’s chest. “He’s
breathing.”

“Unnngh, burgers,” Alfred muttered to himself.

“Oui, he’s definitely alive,” Francis sighed.

I looked around the living room, petrified by what I saw.
The fridge was hanging on a hinge alone with several cabinets, not to mention
the many broken plates, dents in the walls, and ruined kitchen appliances.

“Bollocks, Alistair is going to kill me.”

I received another two smacks to the head. “At least
Alfred’s okay, though,” I pouted.

Speaking of the previous devil.

Alfred sat up with a groan, eyes widening at the trashed
room before him. “Dudes, did we have a killer party or something? What the heck
happened in here?”

Matthew and Francis facepalmed while I burst out into
tears, bringing Alfred into a hug. “Yeah! Sure! Whatever! We did that! Oh, how
I missed you and your idiocy!”

“Yo, are you drunk? Why are you crying? Man, I’m hungry.”

“Screw it, I’m taking a nap,” Matthew declared, slumping
against the couch.

“I’ll join you,” Francis offered.

Next thing I knew, Alfred shoved me off him and stood up.
He ignored the unhinged fridge door and reached straight up for the freezer,
pulling out an ice-cream sandwich.

“I’m going home to microwave this, peace suckas.”

I deadpanned.

Perhaps we should have left him possessed, after all.

-The end