[ WP ] A family has just moved into a house that is haunted and is trying to force them out . However , the haunted house is trying in the most passive aggressive ways possible .

Mom had asked us to clean the house, even though we had just moved in. I could n't fathom why the hell she wanted us to clean when we'd only been living here for a day. I mean, I had n't even had time to spill the pizza crumbs from dinner all over the floor, not of course saying that it would happen, but my point was mute. 
 
 We moved from the sunny side of Colorado, to Texas in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. Every time I thought about it I rolled my eyes; mom wanted to raise cattle and chickens, so rather than be in town we were stuck in a ranch home with the closest civilization a couple hundred miles away. I was in hell, literal hell, and the house was n't helping with it at all. 
 
 I sighed, arranging the photos of my family on the table in the entrance to the house. My five year old brother was organizing the magnetic words on the fridge while my mother and father toiled in the kitchen, trying to procure some sort of food for the night. The metal frames were cold in my hands as the air conditioning had been slowly getting colder and colder. 
 
 `` Mom! Can you turn DOWN the AC?!?'' I was exasperated, tired of having to ask. Even for the summer in Texas, nobody needed to have a house that was 50 degrees below 0; I did n't want to have to pull out my fricken comforter and fluffy blankets to keep warm in TEXAS? 
 
 `` I already did! No need to yell about it, ” she replied cooly, literally cooly, it was so cold in the damn house I was just about freezing my ass off. 
 
 “ Are you sure about that? ” I asked sarcastically, rubbing my arms to try and get some feeling into them. I heard a disgruntled sigh, and I seemed to hear some laughter in the distance, “ Gosh darn it I ’ ll do it myself! ” 
 
 I finished adjusting the picture frames so that they were just one inch away from each other at a 60 degree angle feeling accomplished. I shivered, trying to find some sort of warmth, before going down the stairs to the thermostat. The little electronic box was about halfway up the wall, white with light grey buttons. As I looked closer I noticed that it was set to 45 degrees fahrenheit. Too damn cold I thought to myself, and started punching the buttons and to raise the temperature to a nice 60 degrees. 
 
 The numbers rose to the corrected value, and I hummed happily. As I turned around, I had the slight suspicion of movement behind me, but didn ’ t see anything. Weird, I thought to myself, but then shrugged and trudged up the stairs to where dinner was waiting. 
 
 A couple of hours later I looked over; I could feel the goosebumps on my arms, and the temperature hadn ’ t seemed to move. Even with the stifling 85 degree weather outside, the inside of the house was like an ice box. Sighing in exasperation I turned to walk through the living room and down to the AC unit again, but something caught my eye. 
 
 The pictures that I had arranged had moved slightly, but still my hawk like gaze was drawn to it instantly. Somebody had moved each picture frame to about a 75 degree angle from each other. That wasn ’ t right. 
 
 “ Who moved my pictures? ” I questioned angrily to my family, but everyone responded with a shrug or a shake of their heads. What the hell was going on? 
 
 When I headed downstairs to check the thermostat I stood slightly confused, someone had set it right back at 50! It was like the house was trying to get back at us or something, it was damn weird. 
 
 “ Mom! We have to get an electrician or something in! The AC ’ s broken! ” I yelled up the stairs. Exasperated, I reset the thermostat at 60 degrees again, and while I was walking up the stairs I swore I heard a creak in the floorboards. Just to double check I went down to the thermostat, just in time to see the numbers change from 54, 53, 52, 51, and then to 50. 
 
 “ The fuck? ” I asked outloud. 
 
 The next day we had the technician come in, and the only thing he could say is “ I don ’ t know what your problem is? It seems to be working fine. ” The thermostat stood at 60 degrees until he left, and then dropped straight down to 50. I was so done with this. 
 
 A couple of hours later I was setting up my wall pictures - the windows were all open to try and heat up the house a little bit, but it wasn ’ t helping much. It seemed like every vent I walked by opened up to spray me with cold air; and the worst part is that NOBODY else seemed to be having this problem. 
 
 For the next couple of days, all of the wall photos were slightly leaning to one side or another, and every time I adjusted them, right when I turned my back they would just go back to being slanted. It was to the point that I had a permanent headache. 
 
 “ I ’ m moving out… ” I finally complained to my mom, and all she did was roll her eyes, “ This house is KILLING me. I swear it just wants us to leave or something… ” 
 
 It was then that my attention was drawn to the fridge letters. They were moving all on their own; I stared, terrified of what was going on. As the magnetic letters settled, I read the single word out loud, “ Please? ” 
 
 The house was haunted, I was sure of it.
