Haunted

• Chloe Bannink, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

I take a deep breath. I’m not one to back away from a dare, but this is scary. I extend my hand to push open the gate and it opens with a sickening creak…
It’s dark, but the full moon lights the landscape eerily, outlining the sagging house with smashed windows. The Harrisons used to live here, a lovely old couple before they were murdered. Their ghosts haunt this place now, and no one goes in there, but I’m going to. Everyone will be asleep, so no one will notice I’m gone until the morning when the sun is rising and the birds are chirping and when I’m dead…
No. I’m not going to die, stupid me! Ghosts don’t exist, and I’m no scaredy-cat.
With this newfound courage, I stride up to the door and grab ahold of the brass knocker. I let it fall back and hear it strike the door, sending a shiver down my spine. Nevertheless I stand my ground, watching the door with an intensity I didn’t know I possessed.
But no one answers. Well, what did I expect? No one’s lived here for years. I gingerly push open the door, foolish to think it’s unlocked, surely…
But it opens. I gasp a little, but I’m not going to run screaming. What will everyone say if I do? No. Much better to stay. I step over the threshold and I become cold all over. Goosebumps cover my arms, and I’m quivering with cold. I take another few steps and the door snap shut behind me. I whip round, my eyes wide and afraid.
I hear whispering. I back away from the door, only to hit something hard. I begin to hyperventilate. I turn around slowly this time, only to find that I’ve hit a wall. I can barely see anything, even though the windows are smashed and they are open anyway. But there isn’t any moonlight streaming through them. It’s completely dark in here.
I grope for my phone in my pocket, and when I find it I quickly flick on the torch. A bright light fills this space, revealing something that makes me squeal and the phone drop from my hand.
The thing’s hand shoots out and catches my phone before it falls to the ground. I try to step back but my back hits the wall again, I’m breathing hard, staring at the terrible thing before me. It’s sticky and grimy, with a small, round body and long, spidery arms like trunks of trees. It doesn’t have any eyes, just black holes the size of saucers, and its mouth is lined with long sharp teeth.
It lifts my phone to its slit-nose and takes a long sniff. I don’t think he knows I’m here. I take a sidestep, but hit a dresser and knock off a vase. It seems to fall in slow motion, cracking into hundreds of pieces on the hardwood floor. The monster turns. I don’t even have time to scream.