Soul Salvation

"You know, you still haven't told me where we're going," the girl said as she sidled between two tree trunks. The boy ahead of her smiled, knowing she was going to hate him when she found out.

"Trust me, you'll know when we get there."

The woods were dark all around them that night, trees closing in on all sides as the two teens followed a hardly beaten path. The boy had a book bag strapped to his back; the girl had asked him what he had in there, but he had evaded the question.

"Ouch," the girl whispered, feeling the thorns of a pricker bush tear at her bare legs, as she had only a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on. Had she known she'd be trekking through a dark forest, she'd have worn something a little more appropriate for the occasion.

"You alright?" the boy asked, peering over his shoulder as he continued forward, holding a branch back until the girl had passed it, letting it snap back. The whoosh seemed to echo into the silence of the night.

"Fine," the girl muttered, rubbing her arms to try and keep warm.

"It's just a little further."

And the boy was right. Soon, the trees thinned out until they came upon a clearing, the full moon shining it's silver glow down on the two. The girl stood in awe, both from shock and fear.

There before the two teens was a large house--almost a mansion--made of stone. The outer walls were covered in vines and moss. Some of the glass panes were cracked or broken. Looking up, the girl caught sight of a second floor terrace, part of the stone railing of the enclosure crumbling from years of disrepair.

As if proving the place more ominous than it already was, a chill wind picked up in the clearing, causing the girl's hair to stand up on end all over her skin.

"Let's go," the boy said, starting the trek around to the front of the house. Eyes widening, the girl stopped.

"Mark... Mark, wait," she said, tearing her eyes from the house and quickly following him. She grabbed his hand in an attempt to stop him. Mark turned back to her.

"What?"

"...You're not really going in there, are you?" she asked, keeping her voice at a whisper. She glanced back up at the house, as if someone inside would hear her.

"Oh, come on, Angie..." he sighed. "You really believe those stories?"

"Well yeah. Everyone who's gone in there has said...weird things happen."

"They're just stories," Mark insisted, walking toward the large stone steps leading to the entrance of the house. More afraid of being left alone, Angie quickly followed.

"Someone really died in there, though," she whispered as Mark reached the steps. He stopped, facing her again. "Can we just go? I really don't want to do this..."

"Nothing is gonna happen. I don't know why you're so worried," Mark said, letting out a chuckle. "You can stay out here if you want; I'm going in."

And with that, he made his way up the steps and through the creaky, large double doors.

Angie swallowed hard, heart beating fast as Mark disappeared from sight. She could hear the wind whistling through the trees as she slowly looked around. The gravel path of the driveway leading through the trees behind her was dark, shadows moving with the trees. Off in the distance, a coyote howled, making Angie nearly jump.

"Damnit, Mark," she cursed before she hurried up the steps and inside. Mark was sat in the middle of the front room, candles littering the floor and casting an eerie glow. Looking around, Angie took in what, under other circumstances, would have been a rather magnificent entrance hall. There was a wide, grand staircase leading up to an open balcony area where hallways led further into the house.

Quickly crossing the hard wood floor toward Mark, Angie took a seat. Mark pulled a folded board out of his bag and opened it, placing it on the floor between them. Knowing what the board was, Angie's eyes widened again.

"I thought you didn't believe this place was haunted? You said they were just stories." She took one last glance down at the Ouija board, seeing Mark place the heart-shaped wooden planchette on it's surface.

"Well, you said someone died here; maybe we can contact whoever it was." Seeing the panic in Angie's eyes, Mark rolled his own. "Come on. It's just a game."

"Then you can play by yourself. I don't want to."

"Well, I can't play alone, so you have to." Mark smiled as she groaned. "Five minutes. I promise. ...Please?"

Sighing, Angie gave in, placing her fingertips on the planchette as Mark did the same.

"Now, clear your mind of all thought. If you're distracted, this won't work," Mark instructed, taking in a slow, deep breath and closing his eyes.

"Cuz being in a haunted house isn't distracting at all--"

"Shhh..."

The house was silent for a moment. Angie heard the wind coming in through the empty panes of the first floor, causing the flames to flutter a moment. Mark opened his eyes, and began.

"Are we alone?" he asked the board.

The two stared down at it, waiting in both excitement and fear, for something to happen. After a moment, nothing did.

"Okay, can we go now?" Angie asked, taking a breath as she looked up ar Mark.

"Wait..."

The planchette began to slowly move across the board. Angie could feel the tugging sensation under her fingers.

"...You're doing that," she accused, hoping it was true. Looking at Mark's genuinely shocked expression told her otherwise.

"It's not me..."

Slowly the planchette stopped, pointing at NO on the top corner of the board before slowly moving back to the middle.

"Um...is there someone here besides the two of us?" Mark then asked, just to be sure, and waited a moment. The planchette moved once more, the strange tugging sensation pulling at their fingers again. It stopped on YES before moving back to the middle.

Her breath turning shaky, Angie glanced up at Mark again, before a shadowy movement at the top of the stairs caused her to look up. There was nothing there. Wind began to rush through the open windows once more, chilling both Mark and Angie to the bone.

"What is your name?" Mark asked the board. Faster than before, the planchette moved around, stopping on letters until two words were formed .

GET OUT

"...Okay, I really want to go now," Angie said; she could feel every part of her body beginning to shake.

"Just wait..."

Just then, a gust of wind screamed through the broken windows, rushing around the two guests and blowing out the candles.

"Mark," Angie whimpered, the room left completely dark.

"Get out..." came a voice on the wind, soft as a sigh but menacing as ever.

"I'm trying to light another one, hold on," Mark said, almost stuttering as he groped around the floor for a candle and the lighter he'd brought.

A light scraping noise came form the floor, and the room turned ice cold.

"I want to go home," Angie whispered. She wanted to tell herself she was just hearing voices, that her imagination was getting the better of her, but the whispering in the room continued, sending tiny shocks down her spine. Though it was dark, Angie slowly stood, wanting to get out of the house as fast as she could, Mark or no Mark.

Finally, Mark found the lighter and nearest candle, lighting one and then two, and the glow came back to the room. Angie turned to face him and froze, eyes the size of saucers.

Mark held one of the candles, looking down at the Ouija board to see the planchette moving on it's own accord, spelling GET OUT over and over. Standing, he turned to see Angie, dead still, mouth open and jaw quivering. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to get her attention, but her stare was fixed somewhere behind him. Slowly he turned, his heart stopping.

The light of the candle illuminated a face that wasn't his own. The skin was pale as alabaster, eyes dark and piercing as night, jaw hard-set.

"Get out..." came the voice again.

Heart finally starting again, Mark dropped the candle, the flame extinguishing once it hit the floor. Turning, he grabbed Angie's hand and pulled her in a dead sprint for the door. He was in such a hurry that he forgot his bag, and nearly tripped down the porch steps as they left the house.

Sprinting down the stone driveway, neither one looked back.