The Phantom Manor

Chapter One

    "Hey!" Luka ran to the doors and pounded on them. But they would not open. "Is this some kind of joke? You let us out right now!"

    Hannah caught her breath, regained her composure, looking around the circular gallery. There were four paintings, and one look at them told her that one person was the subject of all of them. The same young woman in the portrait in the entry hall. "Look," she said softly, and Luka turned his attention to the portraits.

    One was of the girl in a boat, holding a parasol. Another was of her picnicking with a young man. A third showed her wading in a stream. The last was of her picking roses from the garden. They were clearly all the same woman, in various parts of the manor grounds it seemed.
    Then chills ran down her spine as the portraits began to grow. She would have thought it was all her imagination. How could the room be stretching? But Luka gasped loudly. "Oh my god."
    The girl rowing down the stream? As the portrait stretched she saw that the girl was about to go over a waterfall. A snake was approaching the picnic. A creature was reaching for her heels as she waded. An undead man climbed from his grave in front of the rose bush.

Illustrations of death disguised as paintings of beauty.

"I think someone's pulling a prank," Luka said with false lightness.

"I think someone's haunting this manor," Hannah responded.

Then a creaking sound, and the doors opened, revealing a new hallway, a corridor of paintings that Hannah did her best to ignore. Then her eyes fell upon the painting that stuck out: a painting of the same young woman, this time in a wedding gown clutching a bouquet. She wore a small smile. Her cheeks were pale, but still there was that innocence about her.

"Who is she?" Hannah found herself asking.

"Melanie Ravenswood."

Hannah screamed. Luka yelled. Both turned around suddenly to see a man standing there. He looked to be about fifty, and was dressed in a suit. He smiled at them, attempting to put them at ease.
"Are you a...ghost?" Luka asked, his voice shaking.

"You're silly," he said.

"Who are you then?"

"Just a man like any other man. Why?"

"What are you doing here?" Hannah demanded.

The man smiled wryly, but no happiness, no amusement, filled his eyes. "I could ask you the same question."

Hannah opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. "Look," she said, deciding to get right down to business. "Luka and I heard singing from the neighborhood where we lived and thought it was coming from here. Is this place haunted?"

She half hoped he would shake his head, tell them they were hearing things. Instead he nodded. "Very."

Luke's jaw dropped.

"Mostly by her," the man said, pointing to the portrait of the bride. "By Melanie. It is her singing you heard. And by Him."

"Him?" Hannah repeated.

"A foe you shall hope never to meet," the man said, looking around cautiously. "They call him the Phantom. He haunts this manor. He lives within these halls."

"Who is he?" Hannah asked.

"I cannot say for sure," the man said.

"Can you try?"

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry. You should go, before someone else finds you."

"Why? Is it dangerous?"

"The Phantom and his friends are quite dangerous."

"What about Melanie?" Hannah asked.

A sort of sadness filled the man's eyes, and he swallowed, shaking his head. "No," he said quietly. "No. Melanie is good. She would never hurt a soul, certainly not innocent children. But you must go, lest the Phantom discover you are here. Hurry," he urged them, taking Hannah's shoulder. At his touch chills ran down her spine and she grew cold. The man immediately released her. "I am sorry," he said apologetically. "I forgot that I can have that effect on people. Come. This way. It is the only entryway he does not see."

Hannah studied the man. "Wait. The Phantom wouldn't know we were here, would he? If we by some small chance, went through a gallery with stretching portraits?"

The man paled. "Nay. He must know you are here. He does allow mortals to enter at some times to explore, but only so that he can, er, steal your souls."

Luka's mouth dropped open. Hannah swallowed. "I see."

The man ushered them in one direction. "Hurry. This way, else you might never leave here."

Hannah and Luka followed the man, looking around curiously as the strange singing resumed once again. "I hear her," Hannah said, awestruck at the clear quality of her voice.

The man led them up a flight of stairs, over into a dark hallway. "There is a door down the hall to the right. There is a window. You can jump, land on a tree, and escape. Hurry, now." The man turned away and left them alone.

Hannah and Luka reluctantly continued along the dark hallway when a candlestick suddenly came into view, held by a human hand. Then Hannah saw that the hand clutching the candlestick was attached to a woman, a young woman in a wedding gown with a veil obscuring her face. It was from her lips that the soft singing came. She held in her other hand a bouquet and was standing in the middle of the hall, wandering, singing. Behind her, a pale older woman, rushing after her, murmuring soft, soothing words. Hannah stopped, gazing at the bride and the woman, standing in the hall while she sang. The bride seemed to want to approach them, and Hannah stared at her.

"Melanie," the older woman said gently. "Please. Don't. Come along."

But Melanie would not be coaxed. Instead she stumbled forward in her dress, approaching the couple. "Hello," she said softly, and as she grew closer, Hannah was able to make out her facial features. Pale skin, auburn hair, beautiful eyes. "What are your names? You must have been invited by Him." She said HIM almost dreamily, with a a small sigh.

"Um," said Luka.

"I'm Hannah," she offered, "and this is my friend Luka. Who are you?"

"My name is Melanie. Melanie Ravenswood. Although it was to be Melanie Evans, wasn't it?" Another sigh, but this one was less dreamy. She reached forward and lifted some of her veil. "Did He invite you? Has He said where Jake is yet?"

"Jake?" Hannah asked, but suddenly Melanie looked up, at something behind them, but when Hannah turned she saw nothing. Melanie replaced her veil and began to sing softly to herself again, as though Hannah and Luka were no longer there.

"Jake Evans," the older woman said in a low voice to the two teens. "Jake Evans."

"Oh," Hannah said, eyes widening. IT WAS TO BE MELANIE EVANS, WASN'T IT? "Oh, my."

The older woman bit her lip and watched as Melanie sang to herself, wandering the empty hall. "She isn't herself anymore. She hasn't been for years. She has been in some sort of trance, almost. Singing. Always singing, holding that bouquet of hers, in that awful dress, hanging on His every word. It's sickening to see."

"Who...is He?" Hannah asked, trying to put the same emphasis on the word as the other woman had.

"The Phantom, of course."

Melanie stumbled over to the older woman. "He is looking for someone," she said dreamily. "Not me. Someone else. I wonder if He is searching for Jake."

"Perhaps He is," the older woman told Melanie kindly.

That seemed to satisfy Melanie, who returned promptly to her singing.

Then someone grabbed Hannah's shoulders, and she heard Luka shout. Then she was being dragged away from Melanie and the older woman, without a thing to do about it.