Chills & Thrills Anthology

A Daring Halloween | Miss Terry

I had to say it while the Yale Mansion looms behind me, its huge windows like mouths opened in warning. I had to, or fear will consume me.

I barely notice Tessa's sudden paleness. "What?" she says, her voice shrill like when she's lying.

"When I get out of that house tomorrow, it's already done between us, Blake." I glare at Tessa, scowling. "Leave London alone. He doesn't deserve this."

Without waiting for their response, I enter the gates of Hell itself. I feel like Dante when he crosses the vestibule of Inferno. My heart hammers against my ribcage, my knees wobbly as I walk deeper into the abandoned property.

I almost miss Blake's remark. "I hope you rot in there, bitch!"

I hope you break your dick.

*

For decades, the Yale Mansion has been the epitome of opulence.

This, however, changes when Terry Yale, the madame of the house, is reported dead. One by one, the mansion loses its grandeur along its members. This tragedy only worsens the rumors circling the property. People have been allegedly hearing screams in the middle of the night emanating from the house of horror itself, and that anybody who'd dare enter do not ever return. Of course, this tale is fancied with the name "Miss Terry" to account for the late owner and the mystery surrounding the haunted mansion.

Leaves rustle as I continue forward. The cold breeze, along with the sense of foreboding, chill me to the bones.

This is a bad idea.

I stop at the front door. With a sigh, I pushed it open, half hoping it'd be locked.

The door groans as I crack a few more spaces, as if it's hating me for disturbing its sleep. Swallowing the bile that threatens to burst from my mouth, I slip inside---

---and is welcomed by absolute emptiness.

The eerie silence, along with the dim light illuminating the whole area, sends a shiver down my spine. Cobwebs cover the high ceilings, where an intricate chandelier hangs unused. A long staircase runs along the far wall, leading up to darkness.

I clench my fists. There's nothing to be afraid of, Sanya. Nothing at all.

I jump as a loud ring fills my right ear. "Sanya? You there?" Michelle's voice floods into my earpiece as I answer the call.

"Yeah." My breath catches at the word. I cleared my throat and try again. "Yeah."

"Okay, good. We're in your room, but we can't see anything from here but darkness."

I frown. My house is fairly near, and considering this whole first floor is illuminated, the mansion is supposed to give even a hint of light from my room.

Swallowing my trepidation, I say, "Look closer. It's practically glowing in here."

"Can you try moving to the windows then? Wave or something?"

Numbly, I walk over to the curtains. They're fancy, really, but smell like rot. With a suppressed gag, I hold up one end.

Ice freezes all my blood. "Fucking hell."

"What?"

I barely choke the words out. "There are no windows, London."

*

"We're coming down to get you," London says.

My back is against the door, my knees to my chest. "No." I wince at the weakness of my voice. "I'm fine, so please stop worrying."