Total darkness. A mansion of despair. Two girls skittered along the outskirts, peering into the borders of the abandoned landmark, a stain of memory—fact and legend both.
“I don’t like this,” Hailey muttered, limbs trembling with every step, teeth chattering as a chill ran up her spine. “M-Maybe we should turn back…”
Clarice snickered. “You’re such a baby, Hailey. I told you to stay home.”
A flashlight in hand, the braver of the pair scouted the fence line for an opening, a way inside. Her head of flaming hair was outlined by the light, untamed curls blocking her vision. She pushed them back, huffing in discontent.
Hailey didn’t take kindly to Clarice’s comment. “Take me home right now or I’m telling Mom!”
Again, she couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. Clarice turned to face her older sibling, age doing nothing to circumvent cowardice. They’d been this way as long as she could remember, fighting to sustain a place of equilibrium. Back and forth they pushed and pulled until one always gave way; it was the nature of all things living and not.
“Tell Mom if you want. Don’t forget you agreed to be here. You’ll be in just as much trouble.”
If Hailey had a response, she kept it to herself.
“Aha!” Clarice found a gap in the chainlink fencing, the perfect size for the pair to crouch under. Clarice was quick to duck beneath the sharp edges, holding out her hand for Hailey . Hailey hesitated, hand pulled away as though scorned.
“I can’t.”
But they’d come too far to turn away now, so close to the answers they desperately sought.
“I can’t do this without you.”
Hailey hesitated, as she always did, an uncertain child.
Ducking under, the pair were greeted by foliage overgrown from years of negligence. They followed a laid-out path, hardly visible beneath the growth. Stepping stones of mossy mounds led them to the doorstep of the infamous house they—Clarice—had been so keen on investigating.
This was it.
Months of research had led the pair to this moment. They’d purposely chosen an evening their mother worked the graveyard shift, packing their belongings into a single school bag strapped to Hailey’s back.
There was no turning back, the draw to this home was too intoxicatingly alluring. It was as though an aphrodisiac placed all within its vicinity under a sort of spell, enticing their minds and filling their hearts.
Hailey’s hands gripped Clarice desperately, flinching and screaming at every little movement. Carefully, the twins approached the front door, glass crunching beneath their feet.
Clarice’s palm smoothed over the worn wood, the entrance giving way almost immediately. “It’s unlocked.”
“This is such a bad idea…”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re together.”
“We can still go home, Clarice. We don’t have to go inside, we’ll just—!”
“Hailey.” Clarice’s tone took on a darker inflection. “I’m not going home now. Not when we’re so close, not when Dad could still be here.”
Hailey looked downcast. “And if he isn’t?”
Clarice hadn’t considered it a viable option. In her mind, this was the only possible option that explained their father’s disappearance. Their mother had accepted it, even Hailey to an extent.
But not Clarice.
No, despite her love for the rest of her family, her father had meant everything to her. Without him, she was unsure who she was in this world and what she would become without his guidance.
“Then you were right. We’ll go home and pretend this never happened.”
Hailey was terrified. Clarice was the same, but her determination triumphed over every emotion. This was the final piece of the puzzle.
So the pair crossed the threshold, greeted by an darkness so dense their flashlights did little to displace it. Eerie silence shrouded them as though they were covered by a blanket.
Whoever had owned this house had been disgustingly wealthy. From velvet walls of emerald green to dressers meticulously carved from rosewood, gilded in a glimmering gold that had long since lost its integrity. The owner had not spared a single expense, yet cobwebs consumed it all the same.
“Do you think this was him?” Hailey spoke in a whisper, flashlight trained on a portrait torn at the neck and forehead, only an inkling of the muse visible. “Think he owned this place?”
Clarice fished a newspaper article from her cargo pants. The paper was worn, yet still promising enough to discern.
“Serial Madman Still At Large!”
The post was accompanied by a small excerpt. A loving father and husband had suddenly gone insane, slaughtering his wife and children. But their blood hadn’t been enough to satiate his hunger, no. He went on a killing spree, eventually forced into hiding by the police, who had gotten a little too close to finding him.
On the loose to this day.
The portrait up on the mantle was the same man in the article.
Arturo Casanova.
“Fuck, we shouldn’t be here!” Hailey trembled, realizing their error. “You didn’t tell me this place was owned by some… some psycho!”
Clarice was quick to defend. “I didn’t know! At least… I wasn’t sure!”
They bickered back and forth, Hailey desperately insisting her sibling heed her words and flee with her while the opportunity still presented itself. But Clarice had gotten so far, determined to find her father who had gone missing while investigating this case over five years ago.
She needed this, needed to know he was truly gone.
Hailey realized her sister was lost to the thrill of the hunt and backed away in disbelief.
“I’m going home. Stay here and die for all I care!”
She turned on her heel to walk away, colliding with something hard blocking the once clear path. Her body was rigid with fright.
“D-Dad?”
A voice they didn’t recognize chuckled from behind the cover of darkness. Aiming her flashlight, Clarice suddenly screamed.
If only they’d stayed home.
Bryanna Bernice is a writer and aspiring author born and raised in the United States. From a young age she found a love of literature and story-telling, her dream to turn a lifelong passion into a career.
Featured image by Nathan McDine on Unsplash.
