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A young man by the name of Michael Beauregard, moved to a small lot near a city, he had to move in search of a job, he purchased a Victorian styled house, which was surprisingly affordable, it was ment to cost millions judging by the location, the architecture and everything in the house was not sold off to the general public, he was not sure why though, but it was affordable that even a person in the middle class can buy it off. Michael asked for the history of the house once, not because of horror stories that made him think twice about buying a house, though it wasn't that at all, in fact, he was interested on the past owners.

There were three the first owner said that he was spiritual, an architect and was an artist, he believed in things that even the neighbors at the time think he was crazy. Most of his artworks were still in the attic, they were mainly about life, nature and sometimes structure, he was interested in Victorian Era structures and so he decided to build his house in this way, he died by a sudden heart attack, in his will he said that his house will be sold off though for a cheaper price and all items will not be sold off unless the next owner decides to. The second owner was yet another man, he was a writer, he wrote lots of propaganda, probably at the time he was in a dark time. Was he in a war? Though Michael wasn't sure at all, he had to snap out of it and start unpacking the rest of his stuff.

He entered a room, which had his luggage, he had a positive feeling and was ready to keep on studying the history. The second owner had a similar story only he died of tuberculosis, he did the same thing with his own possessions, he left a typewriter and also requested that half of the previous owner's painting be sold to an art museum to fix the damages on the house, there was something odd in his will though, it said, "I'm sure I won't mind if I sold my paintings." He claimed that he owns those paintings, and more importantly, why did he say "I won't mind.", it was fairly odd and the thought of most of these owners being insane was pondering his mind, he tried to shrug it off by checking the other owner, it was a pianist, he smirked in irony with that thought, since he is a pianist himself. The pianist played for orchestras and private parties, he was very good around the town and even the neighbors thought he would always deliver these beautiful performances and even do a classic piece with his own twist to it, he made a lot of people smile and laugh, his favorite was known by everyone: Für Elise and he would play it during private parties in an excellent and dignified manner that many people, young and old would be amazed to listen to him play. Sadly, he died in a car accident, this made Michael uneasy, and so he knocked on a piece of wood, he shrugged off the tragedy and decided to look around the house to calm him down.

It was an elegant place, there were still these items the previous owners laying around, he went over to the blank canvas and decided to paint, but before that, he got a container with water and he spoke out loud. "Um…If you don't mind sir, I'd like to try and use your set." he muttered a curse afterward, thinking he was an idiot, though he felt this strong bond, which was very hard to explain, he began to paint, he thought his painting would end up terrible, he felt that every stroke was sloppy, every dab on the canvas was wrong, but he kept painting and then he thought he saw the previous owner was painting next to him, which shocked him, he placed down the brush and looked around, he thought he saw a smile, and then he turned back to his painting to find an exact replica of one of the first owner's paintings. Michael gasped, and stood back, "Did…did I do that?" he asked himself, still unsure, but he was the only one in that house, obviously he was good at it, he thought he didn't have it in him, but why did he paint that picture?

He decided to do something else, probably play the piano, he went off to the piano room and played a few songs, from 'Marry had a little lamb' to 'Moonlight Sonata', one piece  caught his eye, and so he started to play it, 'Für Elise'. Every note felt like he was in a deep sense of meditation, a burst of ideas when writing novels, and of course, the love placed for that piece, suddenly, a figure was next to him, playing with him, it was the recent owner, his ghost was playing with him, he was shocked, but the ghost had a peaceful sense of happiness, and so he decided to play as well, as he finished, he smiled and so did the ghost, as it faded away. A surge of emotions came to him, he thought, Was this all a memory? He remembered reading an article on past lives. It became clear to him now, those were his past lives he had to remember and he was glad to remember these memories, he remembered every good and bad memory, every moment of his lives, and he decided to live his life to the fullest, a couple decades past and he was somewhat like all his lives, it was like he was all three of his lives, all at once, occasionally, the ghosts would visit him, there were no conversations, but yet the silence felt like a sense of communication, he was and as the years go by, he was found dead because of cancer by his neighbor. A couple decades later, a young woman bought the house, as she approached the house she said, "Glad to be back."

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