There was a house that was purchased in my neighborhood by a weirdo named Larry Scribney. Larry was a simple man with simple tastes who had never been married and never had a girlfriend of any sort. In the past he had been out on a few dates but the woman quickly realized that he was a drip and a bit too creepy for their liking. For employment Larry was a math teacher and despite being very intelligence in that branch he knew nothing about anything else in life. On dates he would say the stupidest things to the girl and many times she became so freaked out that when she got up to go to the washroom and she never came back.
Poor Larry accepted the fact that he would be alone forever, so he bought the house in my neighborhood that was rumored to be haunted. When he first moved in I saw him working out in his front yard and I introduced myself. He seemed somewhat friendly but wasn't much for conversation. I then told him that the house that he had purchased was haunted. He gave me a strange look and asked me why this was so. I told him that there used to be an old man that lived there and that this old man was a chain smoker and on repeated occasions this man had fallen asleep with a still lit cigarette. The old man had been badly burned twice and once the fire department was called to put out a blaze. But then one night a fire raged out of control and a single cigarette butt that started the blaze burned the old man alive. The fire department was able to save the house but not the old man and for years the house sat empty.
He stopped raking the grass and said, "I don't believe it."
Angrily he stomped away and went into his back yard. I never expected to see him again, but a week later I was out for a walk when he tracked me down. Larry told me that in the middle of the night he was awaken by a ghost of an old decrepit hand jamming a lit cigarette butt into his arm. Larry then showed me the burns. He then said that the smoke detector was going off at random times despite their being no smoke. He asked me what the name of the man was who died in the house and I told him his name was Abe Hart.
The next day Larry came knocking on my door and told me that he had found the grave of Abe Hart and spoke to his spirit telling them that he didn't know that it was his house and offered his condolences for his unfortunate death and begged Abe to stop tormenting him at night. Larry said that the spirit of Abe suddenly appeared out of the grave and told him to stay away from the house if he knew what was good for him.
Larry informed me that he was going to stay in the house and not be scared off by the spirit of Abe Hart.
Three days later I walked by Larry's house. It was night time and I saw him screaming through the window. He came running out of the house naked hollering, "Help me! Help me!" He grabbed onto me and fell onto his stomach. I looked at his back and the numbers "666", the number of the beast, had been grilled into it by cigarette burns.