The Haunted Hall

       “My parents don't let me go in that room!” I complained  “And its locked, anyway.”

            “Whatever,” said Maddie. She tossed her head and continued to walk toward the door of the room. She tried to turn the knob but it didn't budge.

            “You're right! They did lock it!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were speaking rubbish about the locked door and stuff, so you won't get into trouble or something.” I flashed an “I told you” look at her. She looked at my smug face and said, “ Ask your parents why they locked the door.”

            “I used to ask them a lot, but they always changed the subject, one way or the other.”

            “Tell them that you are not a baby anymore. Tell them that they can trust you. Whatever you do, just ask them.”

            “Maybe I should give it a try.”

            After Maddie left, I asked my parents about the locked door. I told them that I was a teenager, not a baby and that they could trust me. My parents whispered to each other for awhile and then my mom said, “We should tell her.”

            “Okay, but before we tell you, Cindy, just promise not to ask us any more questions after we tell you the story”, my dad said.

            “I promise,” I said.

            “About twenty years ago,” my mother began, “when your dad was a young man, he had a teenage sister. Her name was Sally. So you see, when your father and I just married, she came over to our new house. Sally went into that room and she didn't come out. We called her name and even went inside, but it seemed like she had disappeared. She had literally vanished into thin air. After that tragedy, we locked the door and haven't opened it ever since.”

            “But...” I began.

            “Don't forget your promise,” my dad cut me off. My parents left the room. My mother walked into the den and turned on the TV and my dad picked up a newspaper. I walked up the stairs to my bedroom. Just as I started to pick up my book, New Moon, my phone rang. I picked it up and heard Maddie's voice “Did they tell you?” she asked.

            “Uh-huh,” I answered.

            “So what did they tell you?”

            “They made up some fairy story and thought I'd believe it,” I told Maddie about the story my parents told me.

            “You remember how I taught you how to pick locks?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Do you still remember how to do it?”

            “I think so.”

            “Then pick the lock of that “secret”room, and find out what is inside.”

            “Great idea! When should I do it?”

            “The sooner the better.”

            “You know what, I will do it tonight, after my parents fall asleep and tell you about it tomorrow at school.”

            “Good Luck! See ya!” Maddie hung up.

            That night I didn't undress. I waited for half an hour after my parents had gone to bed. Then I sneaked out of my room and down the stairs. I walked to the locked room's door and pulled a clip out of my hair. I pushed it into the lock and wiggled the clip until I heard a tick. Then I twisted the clip. I turned the knob and pushed the door. It worked! The door opened! It was a good thing I had taken a flashlight with myself. I walked into the dimly lit room. The room was long and thin, more like a hall than a room. Its walls were covered with pictures of teenage girls. I walked down the hall until I reached the last frame. It was empty. The second to last frame had a photograph of  a girl that looked a lot like my father. I read the caption under the picture. It said: Cindy Walden, 2000. Cindy!? Did she really exist?

            I turned around and started walking toward the door. But I heard a girl's raspy voice say, “Don't leave so fast.”  Though I was scared, my curiosity won over me and I turned around. I saw a large group of girls. They matched the girls in the pictures. They were translucent, like a hologram. My body froze. I couldn't even scream. A girl with curly black hair and green eyes walked forward. “I am Carmelia Calsphorthy.” She pointed at a black and white photograph. “That's me,” she said. 

            She did all the talking. I think she was the leader of the group. “This used to be my bedroom. I was a happy girl. But one day I caught smallpox, and I never recovered. I died. After my death my family moved away. I was lonely. Poor me.”

            My teeth chattered. My body trembled in fear. “I'm sorry,” I said. 

            “A new family moved in the house they had a daughter my age. One day, when she was playing with her siblings, she hid in the in this room. I trapped her, so she could be my new friend. She died in peace. Over the course of a century and a half I had about a hundred new friends. Now I have you, my newest and last friend. My hundredth friend! My new best friend! Look at the camera. Look! Look!” The camera snapped a picture of my face. The instant it took my picture, my image appeared in the empty frame and my name appeared below it. My body fell to the floor. I felt myself lifting and I felt free, like a feather drifting in the gentle breeze. I looked at my arms and legs; they were translucent! The picture frames started glowing and so did my new friends and I.

 _________________________________________                                                                                                         

             The Walden family realized that their daughter had disappeared, like Sally. They moved away in sorrow and fear. Many years later, Cindy's parents sold the house to a young couple, who had two little children.  As the new family was touring the house, they found the phantom room. They saw the frames hanging on the wall. As the husband was looking around the room, he saw a corpse of a girl, wearing a tight red top and jean shorts, lying on the floor.