The rusty edge of the window frame bit into Heather’s hands as she pulled herself up to look through the dark window. For the hundredth time tonight she asked herself why she was doing this. She tried to shake the feeling of being watched, and the voice telling her to turn back..
“So, what do you see?” Heather flinched and nearly lost her grip. Below her Brittany was holding the little ladder steady, long hair catching the stray bits of moonlight.
“There are curtains on the inside, I think we’d need to go in. But I-”
“Go in then! I’ll toss you the light.” Heather leaned down and caught the tossed flashlight. If she went through that window she’d officially be breaking and entering. Brittany had promised she’d already made sure no one was keeping an eye on the house. If anyone actually cared, they’d have at least least repainted it. It was just a decaying Victorian eyesore on an ordinary suburban street that everyone decided to forget about. Heather took a breath and pried the window open. It seemed like the first time it’d been opened in a decade or more. So what’s the big deal if I go in?
The idea had been so exciting earlier that day. Heather had wanted to do it, right up until she was zipping a black hoodie over her darkest jeans, looking like a cartoon cat burglar. But if she called it off now Brit would be on her for life. “Remember our sophomore year when you spent a week convincing me to break into a creepy old house, then you fucking bailed after I already bought all the supplies?” No, she knew she needed to go in. The idea would never go away if she walked now.
Heather’s zipper skittered on the window edge as she pushed herself through the curtains. Her soft dancer shoes soundlessly touched down onto carpet on the other side. She took in a moldy breath of air and flicked the flashlight on. She saw at once she wasn’t on carpet. The wooden floorboards were covered in such a thick layer of dust that the ground felt almost plush. There would be no way to hide footprints, she thought. Well, too late now.
The beam fell on a sofa in a living room that looked more modern than Heather had expected. She’d pictured cracked wood, dried herbs hanging from rafters, maybe some odd jars in open cupboards. Years of stories and rumors told at recess left her shocked that the oddest thing was the garish giant entertainment system housing a fat backed tv. It looked like there was some kind of giant DVD player hooked up to it even.
“Hey, Heath, you okay in there?” Brittany’s voice drifted through the window in a stage whisper.
“Yeah! We’re good. Nothing weird yet. Keep looking out.” Heather tiptoed farther in, running her light over a well loved couch, leather cracked and faded. There was a knitted woolen blanket draped over the top, and pillows still decoratively placed on the edges. Through an open door beyond the living room pots and pans were hanging from hooks over a sink. It’s just a normal 90s house. But when she stepped into the kitchen, the hairs on her neck went up.
There were plates on the kitchen table. Judging from the mass that had grown over it all, it was a meal that never got eaten. Near the sink was a chipped mug and a book on its face, as if set down for a moment. What had to have happened so that no one ever came back for it? What was still here?
Heather came back to the window to tell Brittany she was going deeper, and saw her best friend staring at her phone. “Hey!”
“Fucking Hell!” Brittany said, dropping her phone. “Don’t do that!”
“You’re supposed to be on lookout duty!”
“It’s creepy out here alone! I just needed some corgi pics real quick.”
Heather rolled her eyes. “At least put it on night mode, if you want to be able to see the ghost before it stabs you.”
“Ha-ha. Like a ghost would stab you.”
“Whatever. It’s creepier in there, trust me. I’m going back in.”
“Did you find something?”
“Not really, not yet. I’ll be quick.”
The flashlight wasn’t a strong one, they’d wanted to keep it dim so that no one could see it from the outside. Not that it mattered now with the thick curtains. She gradually combed the other side of the room. There was a plastic potted tree covered in cobwebs, a vase on a stand that might have held flowers once. The shapes of various pieces of furniture and finery lurched in the half-light. Heather tried to stay focused, pushing her unease aside. But when she found what she was looking for, the feeling was impossible to restrain.
Her flashlight was pointed at a staircase landing that halfway up was completely covered in police tape. So not even the police had come back to this house after whatever happened. The idea that she might be disturbing a crime scene freaked Heather out more than anything she’d seen so far. How could no one in town have mentioned this?
She shuffled towards the tape as her stomach began to roil. An autumn wind knifed through the open window, blowing her hair into her eyes and making her grateful for the hoodie. She got to the landing and traced the path of the stairs-old and warped by centuries of feet, bowed in the middle. The guts of this house were modern, but its bones were every bit as old as the outside made it seem. The staircase rose up steeply and curved in on itself in a spiral, vanishing out of view. If she wanted to see more she’d have to cross the tape that ran across the fifth stair.
She tried to lean around the staircase and illuminate what was waiting higher around the corner, but she couldn’t bring herself to shine the light any higher than the tape. Very suddenly she was sure she didn’t want to see what the light would reveal. The feeling of being watched returned, stronger, angrier. Whatever she came here to find wasn’t worth this. She should leave this stupid house. She was leaving this stupid house, now. When she turned to bolt for the window she found herself abruptly in free-fall.
Her flashlight flew out of her hand and smashed into some forgotten antiques as she toppled down the stairs. The ringing of shattered glass destroyed the deep slumber of the house and it groaned in anger. Heather scrambled in what she hoped was the direction of the window. Her legs slammed into a coffee table invisible in the darkness and she fell again.
She landed on her back, her head giving a muted thud on the hardwood as dust exploded around her. When the dust cleared she was looking straight at the stop of the staircase, above the police tape. Somehow, despite the darkness, she saw wispy white hands clasped on the edge of the banister, an upper body leaning out from around the bend, and two bright eyes against a white formless face, seeing her. Seeing all of her.
The need to scream was so powerful that her body forgot how. Heather made a gurgling drowning sound, feeling like her lungs were being squeezed by a fist. Her eyes stayed locked onto the...what was it? Maybe if she kept staring at it, her mind would get it together and realize it was just a shadow. A very bright shadow. Then it’d fade and her head would stop ringing.
But in the long passing seconds - it wasn’t going away. She still couldn’t breathe. And now she was afraid that if she ran for the window, if she turned her back to those stairs, it would come roaring down after her. She needed to get out, right now. A sudden clattering broke Heather’s trance - and all she saw was white.