Haunted

"Abby, you coming?" The sound of my mom's voice pierced through my thoughts. Looking around the room I had been calling mine for the past 16 years for the very last time, I picked up the box in front of my feet and descended the stairs also for the last time, figuring the stomping of my feet on the wooden stairs would be the best answer. "Was that really necessary? Just because we're moving doesn't mean you have to demolish the house."

“Just shut up! I’m not in the mood!” I said rolling my eyes at her. “I will not tolerate such language, young lady! You may not want to move but we’re still your parents and we decide what’s best, whether you like it or not!”

Rolling my eyes again, I turned my back to her and made my way to the car. I shoved the box in the trunk of our black Mercedes and slammed it shut before making my way around the back of the car and sliding in the backseat of it. Untangling my earphones and plugging them in my iPod, I made myself ready to ignore the hell out of my parents. Did they really think that moving away from home was the best for me?

My parents climbed in the car and pulled their doors closed. Glancing backwards at me through the rear view mirror and sending me a warning look as if to say I shouldn’t open my mouth, my dad started the car. And off we were... I huffed once before setting my iPod on shuffle and began ignoring the world around me.

I must have fallen asleep somewhere on the way, because when I opened my eyes again, I was met by the darkness of the night. I opened my door and stepped out, letting my eyes wander over the old Victorian house that was stood in front of me. Illuminated by a lantern standing on the porch I noted the house was old and dilapidated; the once white colour of it was now a foul grey.

There was no discussion that the house would have once been beautiful with its porch, its balconies and various special twists and turns in the onlay; but now it only send cold chills through my spine. Their was an eery silence. I couldn’t hear anything; no birds, no nothing, even when all I could see around me was a forest.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I span around in shock. I had been concentrating so hard on the house and the weird thing about it, I had totally forgotten I wasn’t alone. I turned around so my mom was now stood in front of me, waiting for an answer and her eyes filled with hope that it would be an approving one. “It has something.” I answered warily, turning my back to my mother to look at the house again. Luckily my mom thought I couldn’t find a word to describe the beauty of the house and not that I was talking about the feeling I got when I looked at it.

I felt my mom giving me a little push in the back signaling me to ascend the steps leading to the porch and the front door. I glanced at the car behind me, yearning to jump in it again, drive away and never come back. Resisting the urge to do so, I warily climbed the steps and went to the front door. I hesitated once more but resolutely opened the door after telling myself I was just being silly. The moment I stepped inside, something changed. I didn’t know what caused it, but I did know the atmosphere in the house felt even more tense than the one outside.

My mom didn’t notice and just barged past me, dragging a few suitcases with her. I hesitantly placed a few more steps into the house so I could let the moving people do their job. My head tilted to the side; I took in my surroundings once more. Their was a grand stairwell which led to the next floor. Moving to the bottom of it, I saw there were three more levels.

"Get out of my way, child." I heard a grunting voice say behind me. I turned around to be met by the reddened face of one of the moving men holding a big box. I looked at the box, seeing at the label it was my stuff, and quickly took a step aside. He made a grunt as sign of gratitude and passed me. Once he did, I turned around again and followed him upstairs, curious to see what would be my new room.

With each level that we passed, my uneasiness became worse. I glanced to the moving man to see if he felt the same, but nothing indicated he did. We finally made it to the top level and I only then realised that this was where my new room would be. I would be sleeping in the attic. Following the man to the right end of the landing, I became more fidgety with every step I took. Although I hoped it were just the nerves, I wasn’t so sure about it. I had the feeling it was the house evoking this new kind of uneasiness.

**
Thanking the moving man one last time after he brought the last box with my stuff upstairs, I closed the door behind him and turned my back to the door, facing my new room stuffed up with unpacked boxes. It had a round window and walking closer I noted it looked out over the wood behind the house. I looked out over the trees, but saw no sign of life. Weird. Trying to forget the weird feeling I had been having since my arrival, I turned around and reached out to the box at the top of the pile in the middle of my new room.

My fingers finally found the edge of the box and I tried to grab it securely. Suddenly the box toppled and the books inside it went flying everywhere. I cringed at the loud noises they made when they hit he solid wooden floor. Looking at the ravage I made, I walked to the books furthest away from the place I was standing. I kneeled to pick them up; my knee hit the floor in the progress of picking the books up.

It sounded hollow. I gently laid the books behind me and knocked with my hand on the wood of the floor. Again, it sounded hollow. Spurred on by my curiosity, I ran downstairs. I roamed my eyes over the various boxes in the hall, but stopped them when I noted the tool box of my father. I ran to it, opened it and took the crowbar out of it.

Once I was back in my room, I put the edge of it in the groove beside the hollow place. I finally managed to dislodge it; I placed the crowbar besides the pile of books. My hands reached out to the loose plank; I noted they were trembling. When the tips of my fingers touched the wood, I suddenly became aware again of the eery atmosphere. I pulled the plank away and my eye fell on a very old manuscript. I picked it carefully up with my trembling hands, noting that it in fact was a diary. I gently opened it on the first page. “This diary is the possession of James Noah Carlos McGuiness.”