Spirits

Prologue

Rose ran down the corridor, fear and confusion knotting her stomach. The cold floor boards felt like ice beneath her feet, her hair and her nightgown trailing behind as if the air itself reached out for her, trying to pull her back. The house felt colder and darker than usual, an inky blackness drenched every corner and an uncharacteristic chill lingered in the air. Somewhere in the darkness a grandfather clock ticked noisily on the wall, its brass pendulum swinging rhythmically back and forth, the sound of its clicking and spinning gears magnified against a backdrop of almost complete silence. Its hand ticked over to midnight and the first chime rang out, echoing loudly down the corridor as Rose ran.

She reached the top of the stairs out of breath, not daring to pause as she run down them two at a time. The lingering sense that someone lurked behind her, chasing her, still pervaded her thoughts, but who or what it was wasn't clear. Another chime of midnight rang out, lingering in the air for longer than seemed natural. She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder, but darkness hid everything more a than an arm's length away. She tried to remember why she was running, even who she was running from, but the fogginess of sleep still clouded her mind. Her ankle twisted as she missed a step and she lurched forward. She grasped desperately for the railing, but her hands found only air in the darkness and she fell uncontrollably forward.

She hit the stairs hard. A burst of pain radiated from her shoulder as the sharp lip of the step dug into her flesh. She kept falling, picking up momentum as each step struck with dizzying pain. Stars danced across her vision as she landed roughly at the base of the stairs sprawled awkwardly on the ground. The urge to get up and run still filled her, but as she tried to stand a wave of nauseating dizziness sent her back to her knees. Her heart pounded hard against her chest and she felt sweat trickle down her back. She fought back the dizziness and lifted her head to look back up the stairs. But there was no one there.

She squeezed her eyes closed tight trying to remember what had happened, why she was running, but the memories wouldn't come. Could it have just been a dream? The terror had felt so real, but now she was thinking clearly she wasn't sure. All she remembered was waking in the corridor, no memory of what she was doing, no clue how she'd got there. A gentle breeze blew from down the hall, carrying fragments of a woman's voice that she couldn't quite make out. It whispered to her, wordlessly beckoning her into the darkness. The voice drew her forward, but as she approached she'd felt something unnatural. A static-charge that buzzed in the darkness filling the shadows with deep sense of unease. It had taken every ounce of her will to tear herself away and run, but now as she picked herself up from the base of the stairs, battered and bruised, she began to feel foolish. She'd been alone in this old house for too long, she'd begun to imagine things.

"It's OK," she said to herself, "it was only a dream."

"I beg to differ," a voice whispered into her ear. Rose screamed, spinning quickly on the spot, but found only an empty darkness behind her. The voice had felt so close, but there was no one there. Her heartbeat quickened again.

She ran to the front door, fumbling clumsily with the chain as she desperately tried to unlock it. She twisted the handle and pulled. A brief breath of the cool night air rushed through the gap, but it was fleeting as the door suddenly slammed itself closed. She pulled hard again on the handle, but the door wouldn't budge.

"You didn't think I'd let you get away that easily?" said the voice mockingly. Rose could feel it breathing down her neck, her hairs stood on end, but as she turned around there was still no one there. Her mind raced as she tried to understand what was happening, but nothing made sense.

There had to be another way out. The back door. She turned and ran down the narrow corridor beside the stairs. A wind blew from behind her and, the doors lining the passage slammed themselves closed as she ran past. The breeze turned into a gale and Rose felt her feet lift off the ground as the wind picked her up and blew her down the corridor. It held her aloft for a moment then dumped her on the ground, sending her skidding across the floorboards. She landed hard on the floor by the back door but ignored the pain as she quickly jumped to her feet, rushing to the door. She pulled at the handle, but like the front door it was jammed shut. Ice began to grow across the door's window pain, the glass creaking loudly as it rapidly froze. Her breath turned to mist in front of her face as the ice spread down the door. She recoiled in pain as the metal handle froze in hand, her fingers red with frostbite.