“I can’t believe I let you drag me here. This is so lame,” I whine, snatching the flashlight from him as I head over to a carved wooden door.
It won’t budge. I frown and try the next one. Then the next. Five minutes later, it’s clear that none of the doors will open. We are forced to go upstairs.
Fucking great. Of course we’d have to go through the entire house. Otherwise, how would the staff scare us?
Sighing, I lead the way up, trying to pretend I don’t hear every creak and squeak and rustling noise the house makes. It’s really hard when all I want to do is shut my eyes and hug Trish so she can protect me from whateverrealghosts might haunt this place. I know it’s silly. I don’t really believe in ghosts, but I also, to this day, can’t explain what my five-year-old self saw when my brother and I went to my first haunted house.
“I think we should separate!” Trish announces when the first room we enter is a dead end.
I give her a nasty glare. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? It’s what everyone does in horror movies!”
“Yes, and then they end up dead,” I argue, reallyreallynot liking the idea of being on my own.
“Exactly!” She grabs Greg’s hand, dragging him down the corridor. It splits after an alcove with a table and a cushioned bench. “Charlie, you go check the hallway on the other side of the landing. I’ll go left and Greg will go right. We meet up here in ten minutes!”
Before I can protest or list one of the many reasons why this is a bad idea, she’s gone. Greg and I stare at each other for a few seconds and then he shrugs and disappears too.
“Great.”
Grumbling obscenities under my breath, I turn on my heel and stalk toward my designated area. Sconces with candles maintain the overall gloom, offering only enough light so I’m not walking in complete darkness. Doors line up both walls once I pass the lounging area by the stairs, the space between them filled with pictures of eerie landscapes. Most of the rooms I try are locked. The bathroom I slip into smells like mildew and offers no clues as to how we can get to the conservatory, so I move on to the next room.
It’s a children’s bedroom with an attached bathroom. I wave my phone’s flashlight around since Greg took the one provided by the staff. Old toys litter the floor, and a dollhouse looms in the corner, just off the bed. I approach it, my every careful step causing the floorboards to creak.
Just perfect, Charlie. Now the entire ghost population knows where you are.
Speaking of which, other than some scary noises that make me question my life choices now and then, I’m yet to come across an actual scare. Not that I am complaining. In fact, I’m not. I like it this way.
Scrunching my nose as the smell of dust intensifies, I crouch down and peek inside the dollhouse. The entry hall looks exactly like the one downstairs.
“Oh, shit. Is this a replica?”
Sudden excitement thrums in my veins. This must be a clue. Heart racing, I examine the layout. Then I straighten up, cross my arms over my chest and frown. It’s a clue alright. Too bad I’m horrible with directions.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I snap a picture with my phone and turn around. The candles suddenly go out, erasing what little I could see. My phone’s flashlight also goes out, refusing to turn back on as I tap my fingers all over the screen.
My stomach plummets to my feet. Is the stupid haunted house equipped with flashlight jamming devices? Seriously? Do such devices even exist? That’s going a bit overboard.
A hinge screeches from the corridor, then a floorboard creaks.
I swallow hard, trying to get enough air to my lungs.
The light in the bathroom comes on, seeping into the room from under the door. I see a shadow move inside.
Oh no, no, no. Fuck this. I’m not getting possessed here.
I clench my clammy hands into fists. The light turns off. The door hisses open. I bolt, scrambling to turn the flashlight on as I emerge in the corridor. But it refuses to comply. The groan I am about to grace the stupid phone with dies in my throat. I stop dead in my tracks, eyes-wide and brain reeling.
Because this can’t fucking be. The way I came through is gone! There is no corridor, no locked rooms, no creepy paintings. Just a wall with a huge mirror on it.
Oh my god, what is happening here? This is so not funny anymore.
A thud sounds from the room I just left, like the door to the bathroom closing. Fear spears through me, rooting me in place. I need to run. I need to follow the corridor further into the house. It’s bound to lead somewhere, right?
But I can’t, my body frozen in place as the darkness around me swirls and spreads and threatens to eat me.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew this was a bad idea! I should’ve stayed with Trish or Greg!
