It was dark and cold, not that he could feel it. He hadn't been able to feel the cold, or any warmth for that matter, for a very long time. He could only see, and what he saw was the same thing he always saw. Sheets that were once white covered the furniture and dust covered them in an unmarred blanket that were as thick as the sheets themselves. Cobwebs long abandoned collected more of it in the corners, clinging to chandeliers and in between chair legs, in the cabinets and on the counters. It seemed, too, to stay suspended in the air caught up in the faint rays of light spilling in from the ardent street light, drifting, drifting, drifting only to join the masses on any given surface in the entire house.

The house was empty except for the dust. And him, of course. Benjamin was always there, watching it settle and unable to disturb it. As far as he could see, he'd always be here watching the world on the outside evolve with the times as he yet lingered in these unchanging halls. None had so much as touched the front door for years. No, decades. It had been decades now, he assumed. It had to be. He'd seen the children across the street grow from children to teenagers, teenagers to adults who would visit when the lights were strung up on the houses of the street. Well, every house but his. His would be vacant, except for him of course, and the dust. They were the two constants, and he saw it all.

The last here, he could remember came in 1977. That at least, he could glean from the calendar they put up above the desk with marked and circled dates or mutterings under breath. They were a couple wanting to start a family. In and out at different times of the day, he watched. Attempts at communication, of course, were made. But they were in vain, and ultimately lead to the further abandonment of the home, and he with it.

Now there was nothing to do but wait. Wait for someone else to come and find him, help him. Wait for the house to be demolished and see what happens then, if he'd get stuck or be freed. Hopefully the latter, as the house being demolished began to look more and more likely. Fingers crossed, Benjamin supposed.

The morning that the door opened was a morning that Benjamin would never forget. After so long in the darkness the blinds were opened with a cloud of dust and rays of light came spilling in. That was the first thing Benjamin noticed, the light. He'd spent so long in the darkness, he'd almost forgotten how beautiful the sunlight was. When he felt a particular need to see the sun, he'd have to drift to the attic maneuver around the mountains of boxes and look through this tiny little window that peered over across the street. The blinds, too, offered little consolation—one was missing a piece that he could look through if need be.

He followed the sound of footsteps to the entry way and saw what was, in essence, his new roommate. ((I'd insert a physical description here, but I don't have anything to go off of, so we'll just say he was baffled at her beauty xD)) Benjamin blinked once, and then again just to be sure. The woman who stood before him was staggeringly beautiful. Certainly, her garb was strange, but it'd been strange for decades. It was...different...than the last people who had occupied the home, but perhaps she was just a product of the times—times that Benjamin Wright had been left out of. It was the first time he'd seen a human this close.

He decided to watch.

Everywhere this beautiful auburn haired woman went, light soon followed. The dust fought valiantly, but ultimately where she was determined to get rid of it, she succeeded. Benjamin followed her about, watching as she swept and wiped things down. He could almost smell the chemicals she used to get rid of it all.

She moved to the kitchen area. When he was a boy, this was one of his favorite places to be. He had a favorite maid, of course, and he could remember the cookie jar that sat atop the cooling box. She would always reach up to it if he'd been particularly nice that day and sneak him the treats while his father and mother weren't looking. He could remember sitting at the island on one of the bar stools kicking his six year old legs, rather than simply letting them dangle, with his head bent over one book or another. Through his education, he'd proven to be the top of his class with a keen aptitude for the written arts. Plays were his forte, and his teachers, as well as Miss Sarah the maid, were his biggest fans.

She'd stayed with the Wrights into his adulthood, and was one of the three to evacuate the house after his murder. Gods, how he missed that woman. She was his greatest confidant and became the sole heiress to their fortune when his parents followed him to their graves. All the better, he could remember thinking, it rest in good hands. Now, his home fell into new hands and he hoped the woman would help him pass on, though exactly how he wasn't sure.

As the auburn haired beauty went about his work, he continued watching, taking a seat on one of the countertops unable to pull out a seat for himself given his current situation.

(((**Cough,cough**Ah, the seeds they are a'planting! I'm feeling this one a lot more, so thank you for working with me on this!!)))

Benjamin followed her throughout the day, curiously watching and waiting to see what changes she would pursue. She'd only scratched the surface of the home, and she rarely touched the basement. It was a pity. In life, he rarely went to the basement. Only the cooks or maids went down there as it was merely an extra storage. The wine, too, was kept down there but in his youth he never enjoyed it and that same distaste lingered into his adulthood. Now, in death, he would almost be willing to kill to get a taste of the bitter alcohol if only to feel something again.

The Beauty was tenacious in her endeavors, and he was eager to see what she would do with the current furnishings. Much of what was in the house had seen both his childhoods and the childhoods of a family that lived here long before, used and reused but still kept in pristine condition despite their age. There were a couple of secret rooms that he anticipated even the newest to the household would never find, rooms that worked as an escape for him in life. They held his journals, leatherbound books whose contents had never been seen save by his eyes alone and could never be revisited so long as he was a ghost. Some part of him wished she would find them, help her see him...maybe. But that secret room, his secret room was hard to find. The last family never found it, and he suspected this sole dweller would continue the trend.

He glided up to where she sat, careful to keep his distance enough that the Beauty would not feel the chill that seemed to follow him and permeate the rest of the house. The food she was eating was strange, and she used chopsticks as he'd heard the orientals did, but he'd never used them and was amazed at the ease of use the Beauty had in operating them. He peered over her shoulder at the texts and realized that another would be joining them the following day.

Sighing, he watched as her eyes closed for the evening and he took his place in an adjacent seat beside the fire. It had been another of his favorite seats in the house, when he felt like being somewhat sociable. Sprawled out on the sofa, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the fire on his cheeks.

All was cold now, however. Even in front of the fire the warmth just couldn't seem to reach him. If he wanted, he could put his hand in the flame and it would amount to the same—absolutely nothing.

Benjamin was at the door before the Beauty even opened her eyes. He'd heard the footsteps and was simply going mad with boredom knowing another person was coming. However, with Beauty's phone off, if that's what it was, Benjamin was stuck with no method of telling the time save for his new sight out of the house and how high the sun was. The sun was already quite high in the sky when her friend came, and when he saw the said friend, Benjamin couldn't help but chuckle to himself. It seems Beauty has a suitor or two after all...

Benjamin did not, however, follow her when she went to change, nor had he the night before. He was, to be sure, still a gentleman in death, as much as he was in life. Instead, he lingered behind with said masculine friend, perhaps occasionally veering a tad too close sending perhaps, sometimes, sending a chill down his spine—if only to remind him exactly how old this house was.

They used their phones, quite nifty devices as far as Benjamin was concerned, and he watched as they ordered pizza. The last inhabitants of the house were fans of the stuff, though in life he'd never had the pleasure of partaking. It was fairly popular though, so he'd added “never getting to try a slice of pizza” to his list of regrets years ago.

He listened to their conversation intently as he tried to process what the plans for the house were. No plans for remodeling, thankfully, it seemed were in the books. Going through the trunks? Now that was a venture even the last ones never bothered with. A sort of time capsule none had ever bothered to open. That, and his secret room—that one hadn't been touched since he still breathed air. Everything was still right where he'd left it, albeit a little dusty.

Benjamin himself was eager for them to start on that. He wanted to know what lay in there that he'd forgotten. One thing was certain. There were no animals. This much was good. The last had a dog...a dog that seemed to always know where he was...and a dog that helped in ruining his chances for escape.

Benjamin had stood faithfully at his post, reminding himself of the dog that he had as a boy that would eagerly wait by his own door waiting for his return. Unlike his dog as a boy however, he didn't get walked. Or spoken to. Or loved. He'd been alone and cold for so long he'd nearly forgotten what any of those sensations were like. Oh, how he missed even the windiest of days! He folded his arms and blew his hair out of his eyes watching the two flirt. Ah well, two would probably be easier to attempt communications with than one, so he'd try what he could.

This gave him the perfect reason to...linger...beside Beauty's masculine friend. One thing he'd noticed among the living inhabitants prior to now was that if he got too close, they would feel cold, as if no matter how warm they kept the house there would just be these cold bubbles if Benjamin inhabited a certain space for too long. As such, he didn't feel guilty in making Steven? Was that what he was called? He didn't feel guilty in making him at least a little uncomfortable.

Today, as far as he was concerned, was a good day. He'd managed to move another book off the shelf and read the two open pages entirely too quickly. But, the point was that today was one of those days that he could potentially...communicate.