By Dalton

Trowa....Man, it's dark in here.....Hey, Trowa?

Yes, Duo?

Were you sleeping?

.......I should be.

Uh, sorry about that. I can't see a darn thing or else I would've known you weren't just being your usual quiet self over there. What happened to the moon? I could've sworn there was one out when we came here. Must be cloudy. Sheesh, even space wasn't this dark. Guess I shouldn't complain, we're supposed to be resting.


Hey now, I already apologized for that; but I can't sleep! Keep me company, ok, till I can?


You're already up, so why not? Though, I don't know what you are going to do to help. I mean, no offense, but you just aren't much of a conversationalist and I can only listen to my own voice for so long. I guess....I guess I just need to hear another voice every now and then, is what I'm saying.

Is this one of those times?


I'll try.

Thanks, pal. So, uh, what are you doing?


Yeah, dumb question, I know.

That's alright.

It's just that....ok, what I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room, k?


It won't. Ok, 'cause, see, when I was little, at the orphanage, we had this kid that was from Earth and he could scare the heck out of me when we all got it into our stupid heads to tell ghost stories. We'd shut ourselves up in the darkest closet and just keep going till someone finally broke and ran out crying to Sister. Me and that Earth kid were the only ones to ever make it through the tales without breaking, but that doesn't mean they didn't scare the crap outta me. I'm surprised my hair didn't turn white with some of those stories that kid used to tell to come out on top as the King of Scares. But, you know me, I'll take the lickin' but I won't give up. Though, you should've seen how I used to pray that one of the other kids would hurry up and open that door and let the light in!

Is that why....? You're afraid of the dark?

No, no, that's not it. This darkness just reminds me of those stories. Heh, that's funny, Trowa, the god of death afraid of the dark. No way. Only, we're on Earth, see, and that kid and his stories were from Earth, and I guess it's those memories that are making me feel a bit uneasy.

Are you sure that's it?


Duo, perhaps....

I dunno, maybe I'm not feeling well. Maybe that's where this queasy feeling is coming from, but I gotta say it's so weird to have those stories suddenly track all over my head right now. I can't stop thinking about it and you know, if only I could go to sleep, I'm sure it'd be all over. I am a little sleepy, but my mind just keeps on going! I'm so glad to have you here to talk to, Trowa, because that's the only thing that's going to get me out of this freaky state. You can talk some sense into my over imaginative..., uh, imagination.

The boundary between sleep and wakefulness is a highly suggestive region.... And it's an excellent place to scare yourself silly. What is it about ghost stories that get people so worked up? Have you ever felt the fear of the unknown, Trowa? I'm talking about that heart-thumping, bug eyed, tensed to jump at the slightest noise, wish you could curl into an invisible ball, pray for morning Fright. It twists your gut with revulsion to think that such things you hear should not be allowed to be. Know what I mean?

Don't think about it.

Don't think about it?!! Too late, Trowa, my man. I'm on a ball. And I wouldn't be surprised if some ol' spooky comes drifting in through the wall to join us for a midnightcap. This old house probably has a huge assortment of spooks just waiting for a chance to say hi. It's just like those haunted houses that kid used to talk about. L2 didn't have stuff like this...

Many occultists believed that indulging in the experiences of the ghostly realm could lead to a constant and very conscious awareness of otherwise unknown presences. This awareness was not meant for mankind and was considered to be far beyond the human mind's threshold of reality.

In other words, if I think enough on it, some wandering phantom will look upon my state of mind as an invitation? That's pretty darn spooky, Trowa.

There is no fear as pure, deep and valid as that produced by the presence of a ghost. That inborn fear may be your only protection.

Aha, so you do believe in ghosts.

I do now..... Hey, maybe that's what I need! A real good ghost story to get this creepy feeling to an end. End of story, end of fear. What do you say, Trowa? Care for a scare?



You are a morbid little fellow.

Heh, just going with the feeling, Trowa, my friend. How about it?

I don't think....

Can't think of one? Make one up! You have to have the essentials, you know; like, the sound of footsteps going up and down the stairs, muffled voices, strange smells, cold spots, the feeling of being watched, hearing your name being called, seeing black shadows moving about, etc, etc.

Duo, don't you know...?

Ok, ok, I'll go first. I have a library full of 'em in my mind. Let's see.....how about the one about the awful thing in the tower room, with its hideous recurring nightmares? I swear that was one of the most terrifying stories in the English language.


Hush, Trowa, I'm starting and if you back out now, I will be the King of Scares and you'll have to admit Deathsycthe is better than HeavyArms......thought that would get you. Ok, here's one.:


It lay deep in the marshy back woods, sleeping and waiting. Tall and impressive In its size, it must've been a granddaddy of estates back in its time. But, now, it was only a shell of its former glory. Run down, falling apart, shutters loose and hanging, broken windows….the typical old, old house that's been left to rot. An unusual home hidden from normal view. Perfect for those who wish to hide or who are lost. Strangers wouldn't find themselves alone if they decided to stay the night there. You see, the house held a secret; many secrets, and an evil that could never die. Long, long ago when there was actually real people living there, the house used to be a foster home for orphaned kids. A very proper, social lady owned the home and was the one who opened her doors for orphaned children. Though the kids were seldom seen after taking residence there, no one questioned it; and when more orphans kept coming in, people just thought the others had gone on to other foster homes. The house and its many hidden occupants were never given a second thought until one day when a fire brigade rushed out in response to a call. Bursting into the kitchen where the fire began, the men found a boy, blackened with ashy smoke and chained to the floor. He admitted to starting the fire in order to bring attention to the house and what was going on there. Especially upstairs. Taking care of the fire and the boy, the men prepared to leave, thinking the boy was crazy since they knew the lady of the house was well respected. Besides, the boy had been chained; which, back then, was typical for punishment or restraint of angered, insane people. Something stopped the men, though. A sudden coolness swept over them as they stood in the doorway. It was too cool for That time of year and the waning heat from the dead fire. The chill seeped through their very bones as they turned their steps toward the stairway to the upper floors. It wasn't a good idea; infact, it was a dreadful idea, but their feet kept rising those steps till they stopped outside the attic door. With their hearts in their throats, they opened the door and stepped into a forbidden world. The smell of rotting flesh hit them first, but then their eyes were assaulted with a sight no man should ever have to see outside of hell. Dead bodies hung from chains along the walls; their corpses had frozen in various states of torment. Though, what was worse were the ones that were still alive. Low moans came from a young boy who had been gutted and tied up with his own intestines. A girl was found with her eyes rigged wide open, but her mouth sewn tightly shut. Upon removing the stitches, the men found her mouth had been filled with roach infested feces. Another boy seemed relatively ok, until they found the missing piece at the back of his skull and the stick that was inserted there to "stir" the brains. Some kids had been chained up just to starve to death. Many were missing eyes, ears, fingers and other small parts of their bodies. Obviously, these people didn't live for very long. The murder count was never accurately taken. Supposedly the woman was run out of town and never heard from again; but screams could still be heard in the old abandoned house every once in a while. Some say it's the ghosts of her victims reliving their torments. Some say the woman never left and is still doing her evil on lost children. No one went into the house to find out which was true, and the screams went on.


True story, I swear.

I know.

What? You heard that one before? Well, sheesh, Trowa, why didn't you stop me? I could've done a different one and not wasted my time.

No, that's not what I meant.

Well, what then?

Duo, you know what I mean.


No, I don't.

The house with the attic....you are talking about this....

What the heck are YOU talking about!?

This house. You know. You told the story.

And that's all it is; A Story. If you think I'm gonna fall for the ol' "we're in the house" scare, think again. Uhhhnn….Man, what did I eat? My stomach feels….Heh, maybe it's all those peanuts I ate this morning….

Stop talking for once and listen. Can't you hear it?

Ha, ha, Trowa. Nice try. Hear what? Screams? Yeah, right, don't even...

The moans. You know what I'm talking about. Stop fooling around, Maxwell.

I'm not fooling around, you ....huuhnnn...you idiot!

You don't know.....I thought you were joking to fill time while we wait. I didn't find it funny.

No shit sherlock, it's not funny and neither are your little elusive tricks to beat me at the game. Instead of telling a story, you think you can get me scared with your little...uhnnn... unemotional statements that are supposed to make me think......to make me think...Damnit! I'm not going to be outdone by Mr. Man of Few Words.

We never should have come upstairs.

Stop it! If you're not going to tell a story, don't say....uhnnn...anything at all! I'm not feeling all that great....Freaking cruel of you to try and scare me outside of the storytelling rules. Freakin'...uhnnn...not cool.

You still feel something…. That's interesting. I don't feel anything at all....

Yeah, I feel something! My stomach's been bothering me for the longest time. Heh, you sound a bit worried there, Trowa. Afraid I'm going to spew on you in the dark? Ha..huuhnn..uh. Man, I can't even laugh now without it hurting.

Duo. I'm sorry. I misunderstood, but I'll wait. I'll stay with you until it's over.

No need for the dramatics, it's just a muscle cramp. I....Hey! I…I can't move?! What the heck? Trowa, I can't move! I....uhnnn....oh, god, why does it hurt so much? Trowa? Trowa, damnit talk to me!

Hush. Be still or she'll hear you. It won't hurt after awhile; because I don't hurt anymore.

Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I can't accept …I won't accept…

I'm sorry, Duo. This was not the finale I pictured either.

No. It can't be true….It's not true. Damnit, no! Shinigami does not die! Auuhh..nnno….

Odd. I…can't feel. At all.

Trowa....huuhnnn. Trowa! Don't leave me! Don't die without me….

I'm not leaving. I promised to wait for you and I will....till the end.


"Hn. Duo's cap. They are here."

"If this is one of that braided baka's pranks, I will personally send him to an eternal hell."

"Wait. I think I heard .....Trowa?"

A dark, hunching figure smiled far above in a deadly, silent room.


· Footnote: Duo's haunted house story is true except for the slight changes I made to use it here. The house in his tale is in New Orleans, LA. I once stayed a week in New Orleans, and if I had only known of this house beforehand, I would've checked it out (and been freaked out!). Kudos to the site where I found the tale among a bunch of other real haunted house stories.

· Disclaimer: Gundam Wing and its characters do not belong to me, but I like to have fun with them. Poor guys. I bow respectfully to those who brought GW into being. Thank you!

· Author's Note: It's October; the month of spooks and goblins, so, I could not resist the challenge of tossing the boys into a horror story. I don't know if I succeeded, but it is done. May they rest in peace.