“But you went inside, too,” Dylan pointed out, only to wonder why Brooke was sending her a pitying look.
“I’m ten,” Brooke said in a tone that told her that she should have known better. “They only like little kids.”
“I’m not little. I’m seven,” Dylan reminded her with a firm nod.
“Which is how old their last victim was,” Jenn said as she shared another look with Brooke and-
“This isn’t going to work,” Brooke said, gesturing lazily between Dylan and the two circles drawn in the dirt around her.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jenn murmured quietly, frowning as she took in the largest circle before adding, “We should get salt.”
“It’s the only way to keep you safe,” Brooke agreed as she absently gestured towards the sidewalk. “We’ll go home and grab salt and bring it back quickly.”
Dylan opened her mouth only to have Jenn cut her off.
“Just don’t leave the circle and you should be fine,” Jenn said as Brooke grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the sidewalk.
“We’ll be quick!” Brooke promised.
“What happens if I leave the circle?” Dylan called after them and-
Why were they running away?
Frowning, Dylan watched as her sister and nemesis disappeared around the corner before she glanced between the circles drawn around her and the large house that her father said should be condemned. It didn’t look haunted, but then again, neither did her closet…
She should probably stay where she was, Dylan told herself, but as she stood there, she couldn’t help but feel that this was the perfect time to take a closer look. Decision made, she pulled off her backpack, dropped it on the ground and raised her right foot and slowly moved it over the first line as she kept her gaze locked on the house.
When nothing happened, she moved her foot over the second line and held her breath as she slowly placed her foot on the ground. After a slight hesitation, Dylan stepped out of the circle as she took in the large house in front of her, taking in the words engraved above the door.
“Blackwood Manor.”
Slowly exhaling, Dylan nodded to herself as she made her way through the weeds, sticks, and old briars that made up the front lawn until she found what remained of the old walkway that led to the house and-
Decided that perhaps she should stick to walking on the lawn when the walkway broke beneath her weight and caved in, causing her foot to get stuck. It took a few yanks and a grumble, but she finally managed to pull her foot free. She moved to climbup the short set of stairs that would take her to the front door when something important occurred to her.
She didn’t have a key.
For a moment, she stood there, debating her options. She could go back and wait in the circle for Brooke and Jenn to come back, go home, or do whatever it took to get inside the house. Knowing that she really didn’t have a choice, Dylan’s small shoulders dropped as she turned right back around, stepped over the walkway and made her way around the house.
A minute later, Dylan was climbing onto what was left of the old porch, careful of the poison ivy growing between the boards, and making her way towards the old doggie door someone installed more than a hundred years ago. She dropped to her knees, pushed aside the broken panel she noticed when they looked at the house last week and searched for the rusted eyehook keeping what was left of the doggie door securely in place.
When she found it, Dylan carefully pulled her arm back and moved to pull the hook free only for it to fall apart in her hand. Really hoping the ghosts were willing to overlook the fact that she was breaking into their house, she pushed the small door open with a satisfied sigh. She took in the small opening and couldn’t help but wonder if she would fit only to decide that she’d make it work.
With that, Dylan nodded to herself and shifted back so that she could crawl through the opening only to frown, grumble, and shift slightly to the side when her shoulders got stuck. Slowly exhaling, she pulled back and slid her arms through the doggie door and placed her hands on the cracked hardwood floor and did her best to squeeze through the opening, shifting and twisting as needed, until finally, she was halfway through and-
“Uh-oh,” Dylan mumbled when she made the mistake of shifting to the right.
She tried shifting to the left, hoping to dislodge her hips only to sigh heavily, wiggle, and then finally, placed her elbows on the hardwood floor and propped her chin on her tiny fists. This was going to be a problem, Dylan absently thought as she took in the large kitchen that her father said needed to be completely gutted and couldn’t help but wonder how she was going to explain this one.
She should probably avoid mentioning that she knew the house was haunted, mostly because she didn’t think that it was a good idea to admit that she willingly went into a house that she knew was filled with ghosts determined to get their hands on her. She-
What was that? Dylan couldn’t help but wonder when the sound of a board creaking behind her caught her attention. That was followed by the sounds of rusty metal grinding from somewhere above her head. Swallowing hard, she slowly, ever so slowly, turned her head and watched as the cast iron doorknob began to slowly turn seconds before she felt the door start to move, taking her with it.
She-
“Uh-oh.”
-found herself suddenly staring up at the large boy who’d taken it upon himself to watch over her since she was born. When she tried to join the neighbor’s dog in a mud puddle when she was one, he was there, stopping her before she could sample the mud to make sure that it was up to her standards. When she was three, he stopped her from petting the black and white kitty with the long, fluffy tail that she found in the woods and fondly named “Stinky.”
