Arielle ignored the uncomfortable vibe caused by the lock clicking and meandered into the house.
It's fine... it's fine. Ghosts can't kill.
A stale dust odor cruised straight up her nostrils, and she sneezed. "Shit." Sneering, she wiped her nose with her sleeve. "Definitely abandoned. Great."
She grappled to adjust her vision to the darkness, at first. A steady stream of moonlight blared in through the large windows above the front door, but Arielle had nothing else to guide her. She had a flashlight app on her phone... but she'd left her phone in the car.
Idiot. Should have gone back to get it, just in case.
From what she gathered, a wide, winding staircase loomed ahead, clustered against the far-right wall. Its banister looked crooked, and it led to an upstairs balcony that overlooked the entryway. Cobwebs hung in corners, there were cracks in the walls, and a few unlit sconces hung between them. Otherwise, the room had nothing in it.
She located a door beneath the stairs and snorted. "Oh heck no, I hope it doesn't want me to go down there." She rubbed her upper arms, and a sudden chill perused up to her shoulders and neck. "Okay, this place is weird."
She took a step backward, reaching behind her to grab for the door-handle—but the breeze shoved her forward, farther into the entryway. It didn't want her to get out.
"Okay, okay, fine..." She sighed. "I won't leave yet, then."
She peered left and found a door leading to another area. A dining room or an office; she couldn't tell. And straight across from her was an arched doorway, but the darkness behind it didn't draw her closer.
As she peeped to the right, she located another doorway, this one less obscure. Beyond it, she deciphered what appeared to be a worn-out sofa blasted in light pooling in from another window.
Living room?
She took a stride towards it, but caught quick movement to her right and froze. "Uh..." She gaped around in search of something to use as defense... but there was nothing. "Hello?"
Legs weakening in her fear, she turned her head—and the movement occurred again. Swift, rushed, noiseless.
"Hello?" After one pace backward, followed by another, she realized the movements she caught mimicked hers. "Hm..." Glimpsing in the direction she'd spotted the motion, she found it—a mirror, a few feet to the right of the doorway. She laughed as she tip-toed to it, realizing she'd been seeing her moves. "Oh, duh." Unfortunately, that didn't soothe her angst, and her limbs continued to shiver, testing her balance.
The reflective surface was blurry, and it appeared scratched in places, but it was otherwise a normal mirror. Oval-shaped and bordered in thick copper designs and patterns and old.
She backed away, waiting for her heart to settle. Despite her fright, she had to get this over with and return to her car and get home. "Okay. Okay. So... uh... spirit? Were you going to... reveal the truth, then?"
Another chill spiraled up her arms and shoulders and nestled in the middle of her neck. Like someone placing their hand there, their touch tingling beneath her skin.
"Is that... is that you?" She recalled the TV shows, the movies, the books she'd read; cold often signified a ghost. "Can you... talk? Like earlier?"
A creak echoed from somewhere ahead, and she stilled, her knees buckling as she whisked her hands out on either side of her, for balance.
"Huh?"
Another creak resounded—like someone walking. And it was distant, yet she heard it clearly. On the balcony, maybe?
As she scanned the surroundings, unsure what she was searching for—shadows, a white mist—Arielle's ears picked up on the sound once more. And it came from the top of the stairs.
As she redressed herself, shook out her wobbly lower limbs, a faint whisper pierced through the silence. "Here... here... come..."
Again, her knees nearly gave out and she heard them crack as she lowered to a hunched stance. "What? Here? Where? I am here, dude." She sucked in a heavy breath and gulped. The hairs on her arms stuck up and the cool sensation on her neck moved to her upper spine. Pulsating, tapping, like a palm patting her. Pushing her. A gentle nudge, not as intense as in the forest, but firm enough to tense every muscle in her body.
She clenched her jaw. "Uh... can you tell me?" She shook herself and glared around the room. "I'm not sure I like you... touching me."
A whistle of wind swooshed through her hair and billowed in front of her, pulling at the dust on the hardwood floors. Swirling, swirling, swirling like a tornado—then it stopped.
On instinct, Arielle extended her hands out, and the air was glacial. "Wow... so you... you're here, yes? This is you?"
The gust twisted once more, almost like it was nodding, acknowledging her question.
This... is fucking weird.
She pictured Stella beside her, communicating with this spirit without issue, since she heard them clear as day. She'd have been in her element here, aware of what to say, how to proceed. Able to comprehend when the energy turned negative and it was time to run.
Arielle struggled to even listen to the whispers and to figure out the aura in the house. Confused? Curious? Cruel? And now she was talking to the wind? Following it here? Feeling it?
"What... the fuck am I doing?"
She gawked at the ceiling, noticing the fissures here and there; would it cave in and collapse on her? The longer she stared, the more she wondered if it was moving. Closer, closer... then she scoffed.
"Wait," she lowered her gaze to the gust. "I'm dreaming, right? Yeah, I'm dreaming. Fell asleep in my car in that rest-area. Yeah." She chuckled. "Okay, so if I'm asleep... might as well play along."
The wind whipped against her skin. "Truth... truth..."
Or not.
Spooked, she recoiled, shielding her chest with her arms as she slouched. "Yeah, so... I think I'm good. I wanted to know where Jade was, and she's... not here." Despite being certain she dreamed, she didn't want this to turn into a nightmare. Getting out, escaping, had to be her priority.
"Jade... Jade..."
"Yeah, Jade—" she immobilized, eyes widening, brows shooting up, "—wait, you know Jade?"
The cool air whooshed in front of her again, floating closer.
The frosty vibrations seeping under her flesh made her shiver, and she strode backwards. "No, no, stop. This is too much, it's—this was Stella's job. She spoke with spirits. She knew stuff, and I..." Her lower lip quivered and she crammed her teeth onto it to stop herself from crying. Not here, vulnerable to whatever the heck this specter was. "I don't like this. Th-thanks, but... I'm leaving."
She spun and bolted to the door, wrapped her fingers around the knob, and twisted. Twisted. And twisted. But nothing happened, and the door didn't budge.
The clicking lock from earlier signified she was trapped.
"Shit." She kept twisting and pulling, hoping the thing was jammed and if she continued tugging at it, it would open, release her, allow her to run. "Come on... this isn't funny, I need to go! I don't want to be here! Keep your truths, it's fine, I'll live!"
The door quaked and trembled, and the doorknob became scorching hot, forcing her to let go and shake out her hand.
"Ouch, what the fuck, dude?" She glowered at the knob and then at her hand, still scratched and bruised and bloody from her pavement pounding earlier.
She tried another step towards the door, but a whoosh of heat blew over her cheeks and thrust her away.
"Come on! I don't want to be here! You can't keep me!" Panic and irritation flared in her gut, and another brisk chill simmered up her arms. "Hot, cold, hot, cold, what the heck? What do you want?"
"Truth..."
The wind flapped through her crimson tresses, sliding a few into her mouth. They tasted of cheap hotel shampoo and she spat them out. "Stop that. I'm the one who wants truth! I'm asking what you want!"
Something told her that wasn't the right thing to ask, because the breeze picked up again, harsher, destabilizing her. She sank to one knee, covering her face as dust particles and leaves and papers from who-knew-where whipped at her skin.
"Hey, stop, please! I did nothing to you!" She cringed, battling to breathe. "Stop!"
On cue, the gust stopped and swept off to her right, slamming into the wall. Or through it—she couldn't tell for sure. The mirror hanging there rattled and seemed ready to fall off; but it didn't. She glared at it, hoping she wasn't in range in case it shattered; she didn't want to have to pick out glass shards from her hands. They were bruised enough already.
Rising from her crouch, brushing herself off, she stilled when an eerie screeching occurred. Not a scream, and not human; more like someone dragging their fingers down a wet window. The noise came from the mirror area, so she pivoted towards it.
And her mouth slid open.
Something was writing on the reflective surface. In what, she couldn't tell—ink, chalk, blood, for all she knew. She watched as letters formed in a childish, sloppy handwriting.
G O U P S T A I R S
She squinted, brows drawing together. "Upstairs?" She peeked at the staircase and grimaced. "Uh... no? I don't think those steps are safe. Or sturdy."
The mirror clattered against the wall again, like someone moved it for attention, banging it to prove a point.
It wants me up there...
Swallowing the lump camping at the top of her throat, Arielle swerved to the stairs, hand shaking as she extended it to hold the banister. "Whatever... you better hope I don't fall." The wood was cool to the touch, but covered in dust. She wiped it off as best as she could, inhaled and exhaled, and set her foot on the first step. It squealed beneath her weight, and she flinched; but the step didn't cave in, didn't break.
Phew. Okay. Take it easy.
Slow and steady, she climbed the groaning steps, questioning her sanity. "I'm nuts. I'm fucking nuts. Right? Nuts." She was so distraught, so overwhelmed with emotions and questions and torment that she couldn't think straight. Her actions tonight might be beyond dangerous. But who would believe her if she got out?
Hey, there's a haunted house in this forest!
She didn't even know where she was. Somewhere above Florida; South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama. Dream or not—that part was true.
Why didn't I wait to drive home? Why didn't I look at the signs? Dream-me is stupid.
"And why didn't I grab my fucking phone?"
Once at the top of the stairs, she arched her spine as she peered around. Three doors rested on this floor; one to the far left, at the end of the balcony, one beside her, to her right, and one diagonally placed from where she stood.
"Okay, I'm up. Wh-what do you want now?"
Shivers curled along her legs and raced up her back, manifesting as a powerful push that sent her towards the middle door.
"I told you not to touch me!" She halted her strides and narrowed her gaze. "What the fuck is wrong with me? I am dreaming, right? Imagining all this?" She stretched out her fingers, wiggled them, realizing they were going numb.
"Go... go..."
Cracking her neck, then her knuckles, she sucked in a deep, dusty breath—and marched to the door. Before she could touch it, though, it opened for her.
"Oh... thanks?" She paused at the threshold. "In here? You'll talk in here?"
As a response, the spirit kicked at the backs of her legs, compelling her to stumble inside.
"Hey! That was rude!" She gritted her teeth. "Jerk. Okay... I'm here, what next?"
The room was bare. The only source of light was a wide window across from her. A door rested beside it, possibly a closet. The moon's glow poured in, seeming to point at something to her right. She swirled to see what it motioned at—and found another mirror, identical to the one downstairs.
"Huh... that's interesting."
Before her eyes, something wrote on the surface; she jumped back, startled, heartbeat yammering out of control.
T R U T H
She blinked, arms stiff at her sides. "Yeah... truth, that's what you keep claiming." Her insides flipped upside down as she strained to remain calm. If she freaked out and ran off, this being might take advantage of her.
Shit, what would Jade do? What would Stella do?
Both her best friends were dead, and neither would come to her rescue. Neither could instruct her, aid her, be with her. Dream or not... these terrifying emotions felt real.
"B-but I... I told you, I'm good. I want to leave, wake up from this dream, go home—"
The words evaporated, as if melting into the mirror, and turned into another string of letters.
N O T D R E A M
"Wh-what? Yes, it is. It has to be." Her breathing sped up. "None of this shit can be legitimate, it can't. It's too weird."
The letters morphed again.
R E A L
"F-fine," she hugged herself, sensing her body temperature drop, her extremities going limp. "Then let me go. I don't want your truth, not anymore. Not if it costs me my mental health."
It took a few seconds for the letters to form this time, and when they did, she froze, shock turning her insides to mush.
Y O U C A N N O T L E A V E
She tumbled backwards, somehow managing to not trip. "What? Wh-why? Stop. Stop. I-I did nothing to you!"
Even hunched, she still saw the new words. The ink was thicker, insistent, like whoever wrote with it leaned heavily on their pen or paintbrush.
A N S W E R S
"Answers to what?" She wanted to scream, but her throat linings were so dry, all she did was let out a raspy groan.
A F T E R D E A T H
Her pupils rounded so fast she expected them to leap from her sockets and roll up to the mirror, to analyze the words closer up.
"A-after death? How do you..." With twitching limbs, she rose to her full height. "Who are you?"
The specter took its time erasing every letter, prolonging the suspense, worsening the dread drowning in Arielle's stomach. She clutched her aching abdomen, pressing hard, pinching; wondering if she was dreaming. Something so detailed, so freaky, so ghostly—she had to have been imagining it, right?
She wasn't prepared for the final answer.
H i it's P E N N Y