1 1. Accident

Finally. Finally Tommy Wolf was done cleaning his house. He sat down in his red armchair and pourred himself a glass of  single malt whiskey. The fireplace was nicely filled up with wood and the fire made the whole room warm and cosy. In the corner of the room stood an old record player. Over the past fourty years he got himself a nice collection of records. Some more rare than others. He had a slight preference for jazz music, but he also could enjoy blues and rock and roll. He stood up from his chair and put on one of his favorite records. He sat back down again, sipping from his whiskey, wiggling his foot to the rythm of the music. Tommy didn't have any friends. He was a lone wolf, but he liked it that way. Other people always seem to drain him untill he had no energy left. When he was alone, he could handle the world. That's why he always avoided crowded places. Too many voices talking, too many people mixing up. It was just too loud for him and it made him crazy. That's also the reason why he built this house so many years ago. To escape the hustle and bustle. To find some peace.

Tommy stood up from his chair and put the record back into it's case. He pourred himself another glass of whiskey and walked to his kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out some cheese. He put the cheese on a wooden plank and cut it into small pieces. He took the wooden plank with him as he went to sit back in his chair, looking at the flames of the fireplace. He had a T.V. as well, a quite expensive one too, but he'd rather read a book or just get lost in his own thoughts or just look at the flames. It comforted him. It relaxed him somehow.

The house was georgeous, but he was a perfectionist. He was always looking for ways to make his house even more beautiful. Even better. Tonight wasn't any different. He got an idea how he could make the bedroom even look better. He wanted to put up some long red curtains. They would match the wooden floor perfectly he thought by himself.

He got out his ladder and the curtains and he started walking up the stairs. All of a sudden, the curtain he was holding fell in front of his face and he couldn't see where he was going anymore. He lost his footing and missed a step, tumbling down. He came down really bad and landed with his head on a sharp piece of decoration that was standing in his hallway. Blood started drawing a map between the cracks of the wooden floor. He tried to scream for help but it was hopeless. No one would hear him anyway. He didn't have any neighbours, since he build his house in the middle of a forest he bought. With the last bit of power he had in him, he was able to reach the phone. With his last strenght he called 911. He couldn't really answer the questions they were asking. He only could bring out 'help me, I think I'm dying.'

It seemed to take ages before help arrived. He was laying there, more and more blood coming from his head. Slowly by slowly he felt his soul slip away. He started to feel really cold and everything turned black. He sighed, one last time, before his soul left his body.

Then something really weird happened. All of a sudden he's flying through the air. He was quite surprised... he could see himself laying down on the floor in a big pool of blood. Was he dead? Was he really?

A bit later he saw how paramedics and police officers entered his house. He saw how they tried to give him CPR, but it didn't work. His heart had stopped beating and they couldn't make it beat again. There was nothing they could do for him anymore. He still didn't get it how it was possible that his body was dead, but he still was somehow there. It felt like he was still alive. Was he a ghost now? He definately must have been a ghost now.

More than a thousand thoughts were going through Tommy's mind. He was wondering what would happen to his house. He had no family at all. His mother died twenty years ago and he never got married. But he was very sure about one thing. He was not leaving his house. His body would leave, that he knew. But his soul...

He had spent as good as his entire life building this. He was not planning on giving it away to anyone. The only one who belonged there was he, himself.

He walked, or better said floated up the stairs, into the bedroom. Behind the bookshelf he had there, was a hole in the wall. He wondered, if he would fit in there. He tried to crawl in and it worked out fine. From now on, that would be his new hiding place. Because somehow he knew someone else would come to live here. But he was determined that he would not let anyone destroy his life's work. Never.