The man stared, weary eyed, and repeated the words once more. He lifted his torpedo shaped cigar from his lips, auburn ashes spewing into the air and towards my perimeter. Coughing, he reminded, "I don't believe the home is manageable."

Releasing a gust of air trapped between my lungs, I shrugged casually. " Mister Carson, I certainly think it's a great place to rent out while my girlfriend is overseas. I can draw, and write lyrics for songs. It's just to pass the time, that's all it is."

Blue daggers under his brows shot through me with disappointment, "Gerard, I think being alone around here will be the end of you. I'm only rejecting your offer to stay here for the fact that it is unstable."

"This isn't a savage beast we're talking about," I scoffed. "We're talking about a home."

He licked his chapped lips, charred and black, before turning to me. His smoking habits, along with his husky voice and appearance, gave me the idea he was an aged man. His grey hair was nearly gone, for which he placed a blue patrol hat to conceal the visible skin. As a response, Mister Carson simply smiled sympathetically yet sadly. "Aye, but inside..."

"You mentioned earlier that the furniture was replaced, which concludes there must be nothing wrong with the inside, sir."

"To counter that, I must say it was replaced in pure daylight," he replied. "Not a ray of shine was lost."

"Then, I must ask, why are you so hesitant on letting me visit?"

"Visit, you can," he spoke confidently, but soon his voice became lower than a whisper. " To reside in the house is a different thing."

"Basically," I started, bringing up our whole conversation as evidence. "You're telling me strange things happen in the night?"

"Understood," Carson confirmed.

"What kinds of things?"

"Memories larger than life, I heard," he continued. "In other words; illusions."

"So you've been inside?"

The man laughed. "Heavens, no."

"Has anyone been inside?"

"An interior engineer had been testing the walls once late at night, and asked me why I didn't tell her that residents had already moved in. No residents moved in, which was strange."

I wasn't intimidated. "Anything else?"

"Ah yes," Carson recalled. "When that engineer spoke to me, she also told me that she probably didn't work for the three hours that she needed to do. She said she had fallen asleep in the process, and dreamed on and on. When her fellow engineers examined the work, it was concluded that she indeed did do the three hours of work, very well, actually."

"How is that strange?"

"She thought she was dreaming and not working because something happened."

"What happened?"

"She was deaf, and chose not to speak when questioned. She told me 'copper' and left without another word."

"She was an engineer, she might have been talking about the materials," I laughed, and pulled the keys from the old man's grasp. He held his hands up in surrender.

"Copper is also the taste of blood, Mr. Way."

Notes

new story, please tell me if I should continue!! c: