| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted April 19, 2024 | Chapters: |
...10 11 -12- 13 
|
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Sandra goes exploring
A chapter in the book The Unwilling Heir
The Unwilling Heir - Chap 12
by Begin Again
THE END OF CHAPTER 11
Without uttering a word, the Judge placed his hand on the sheriff's shoulder. Flames seared his shirt. The man screamed and fell to his knees, writhing in pain.
"You knew the rules, and you broke them. One chance, no more." He shook his head.
"But she —" the accused tried to protest.
The Judge shrugged his shoulders. "I have no jurisdiction over mortals, but you —" With a simple nod, a bevy of spiritual bodies surrounded the sheriff, ripping at his body and howling like the wind. Hundreds of bats appeared from nowhere, biting and clawing at the doomed man.
A black cloak of darkness surrounded him as he pleaded, "No, give me a chance." His words gurgled in his throat until he couldn't breathe anymore. His body jerked and then ceased to move.
The Judge turned his back on the lifeless body, murmuring, "You've had your last chance. May you burn in hell."
The body was yanked through the wall, disappearing into the dark, and a deathly bone-chilling scream rattled the room.
Madeline shrank against the wall, fearing what would come next.
CHAPTER 12
Sandra woke up in a surprisingly good mood, the sun shining through her window and birds chirping outside. She stretched her limbs and smiled as she got out of bed, feeling energized and ready to start the day. She slipped on her slippers and headed to the bathroom, but something caught her eye.
She gasped in disbelief. "It can't be." Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried to the foot of her bed. But it was — the book. She glanced around the room, but nothing else except Judge Parker's book was different.
Could Madeline have returned it? She couldn't think of anyone else who would have.
She quickly scrambled into bed, sitting cross-legged, the book cradled in her lap. She slowly opened the cover, and as she did, the pages turned on their own with a gentle rustling sound. Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched the pages turn by themselves.
Suddenly, the room darkened, and a cold gust of wind swept through it, making the curtains flutter. Goosebumps prickled Sandra's skin, and she suddenly felt uneasy. Her heart raced as she felt like someone was watching her.
"Who's there?" Sandra's voice trembled as she clutched her pillow, her eyes scanning the darkened room. "Speak up!"
As she looked towards the closet door, it slowly creaked open, revealing a wispy, pale figure. Sandra's pulse quickened as she saw the ghostly form move closer. "The book holds many answers, Sandra," the eerie voice said.
Sandra's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the apparition, her mind struggling to understand what she saw. She stammered, "Who — are — you?"
"Who I am is of little concern for the moment." The light surrounding the figure flickered and then dimmed. "I've little time."
Sandra inhaled sharply; her breath jagged as she spoke. "Are — you —" She swallowed hard, her words caught in her throat. "What —do you —" Her voice trailed off, unable to form the words.
Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, gliding past the wispy figure. She wore a long Victorian gown embroidered with delicate details. The fitted bodice of her dress accentuated her slender form while the sleeves billowed gently. A string of pearls adorned her neck, and her presence carried an air of refinement and melancholy. She seemed like a specter trapped between the worlds of the living and the dead.
"Forgive me, child. One cannot send a boy to do a woman's work," she said gracefully, floating towards the four-poster bed. Lace gloves adorned her slender and delicate hands. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Victoria, the loving mistress of Judge William Parker. I've given my life to save my darling, yet he remains chained to the past. Now, I understand you will be given the task."
Sandra reacted with a sharp, audible inhale. "My task?"
"Of course, child. You have the book; therefore, you will learn its secrets and, more importantly, what must be done."
Sandra wrapped the covers tightly around her as a shiver of unease gripped her. "Secrets? You mean the —" She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to unearth the Judge's dark past and incur Victoria's wrath.
"Calm yourself. I know the book speaks of murder, theft, and slavery, but that was a long time ago. Before he passed away, the Judge wanted to make amends, but he couldn't." Victoria turned her head and drifted away, moving closer to the closet door. "Perhaps James has chosen the wrong person. It's a treacherous path."
"James? The writer?" Sandra asked, intrigued.
Victoria's laughter floated in the air, a spectral sound of forgotten joy. "He's much more than that. James holds the wisdom and the keys to ending the sorrow that haunts these walls and the spirits that roam the graveyard at night."
"The lights? I saw the lights," Sandra said, her journalistic instincts taking over. "Who were they?"
The wispy figure spoke softly, his light glowing brighter as he addressed Victoria. "Our duty is to the book, not the wandering souls."
She nodded in agreement as she returned to Sandra's bedside. "Of course, the boy is right. For now, our concern is the book."
The pages of the leather book fluttered one last time and then came to a halt. A small, flat package was taped to one of the pages.
"Inside, you will find a key. Take it and follow me. I will show you the door it unlocks, but be warned, you enter at your own risk." Victoria's hand stretched out, and she touched the leather book, her fingers caressing it as if she had been lost in the past for a moment.
Returning to the task at hand, she looked at Sandra's pajamas and chuckled softly. "A change of clothing might be more suitable. Hurry, and we'll wait outside."
Sandra hesitated, her mind racing with questions and doubts. What awaited her if she followed Victoria? Was it worth the risk? Should she tell James and Lorrie, or would they stop her from searching?
Sensing her doubts, the ghostly figure whispered, "It's your choice. You do not have to seek out the answers. I am here to ask." Her silhouette began to fade.
Pushing her fears aside, Sandra jumped out of bed. "No, I want to go," she said with determination. She grabbed a shirt and jeans and rushed into the bathroom to change. Her mind swirled in confusion, but the thrill of adventure pulled her forward.
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Sandra spoke to herself in a wavering voice, "I don't — I didn't believe in ghosts, but how can I explain my visitors?" She sighed. "I don't want to wake up if I'm dreaming." She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "Real or not, prepare yourself, Sandra, for an adventure you can never explain." She smiled, ready for the challenge.
******
Madeline hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs. She heard hushed voices coming from Sandra's room. The previous night's memories flashed through her mind, but her curiosity overcame her apprehension. She shook her head, trying to dispel her foolish fears.
"This house is getting to you, Madeline. It was just a crazy nightmare and nothing else," she muttered. "I'm leaving, so what's the harm of listening to see what that woman is up to?"
As she approached Sandra's door, the voices stopped. She pressed her ear closer to listen and saw the doorknob turn. Stifling a gasp, she hurried across the hall, slipped inside another bedroom, and peered through a tiny gap in the door.
She watched as Sandra exited her room, clutching the book, and hurried down the dimly lit hallway. She stepped out of her hiding spot, took a few tentative steps towards the stairs, but then hesitated, mulling over the possibilities.
"She's got the book with her. Did she find a clue to the treasure?" Her thoughts flashed to the nightmare and then back to Sandra. "Am I going to let her find it?" Madeline grinned because she knew the answer. "Absolutely not!"
She hurried to the end of the hall and peeked around the corner in time to see Sandra disappear around another corner. She could feel her adrenaline pumping through her veins as she rushed to keep Sandra in sight. In her heightened excitement, she failed to notice the change in temperature as she followed Sandra.
Victoria drifted through the shadowy corridor and descended a long, winding staircase, stopping occasionally to listen and then beckon Sandra to follow. The steps creaked beneath Sandra's feet, and layers of cobwebs brushed against her face. The musty air filled her nostrils as they ventured further into the mansion. Sandra realized no living person had been inside these rooms for a long time. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement.
Caught up in her thoughts, Sandra hadn't realized she was suddenly alone. "Victoria? Are you still here?" Chills swept over her, leaving her in a cold, clammy sweat. She felt a presence lurking in the shadows, watching her. "Victoria, is that you?" The cold made her teeth chatter as she asked, "Is — someone — there?"
There was no response, only faint murmurings in the distance. As Sandra strained to listen, she heard the staircase creak and footsteps echoing in the hallway, gradually getting closer and closer. It was then that she knew someone was following her. Her mind screamed, "Hide."
Panic set in as she desperately searched for a place where she wouldn't be seen. She pushed open a nearby door with trembling hands and stepped inside. It was a grand ballroom with vaulted ceilings embellished with intricate plaster medallions and beautiful painted artwork. Thick velvet drapes hung over the dusty windows, casting the room in a dim and spooky light. Along the walls, there were matching velvet sofas and small wooden tables. A spiral staircase led to the curved observation balconies on the upper level with tiered crystal chandeliers glittering in the soft light. A baby grand piano played a soft, melancholy tune.
As she stood frozen in place, Sandra sensed more than she saw. Groups of people lurked in the shadows, men in tuxedos and women with fancy updos, elaborate gowns, and massive jewelry. Their eyes glowed with an eerie light, watching her every move as she tentatively stepped further into the room. The murmuring of voices filled the air, but the words were unintelligible, adding to the heavy atmosphere.
A cold gust of wind swept through the room, causing her hair to stand on end. The faint light flickered, casting wispy shadows that seemed to dance around her. She felt a presence behind her, and an icy chill crept across her shoulders and up her neck. She slowly turned around, but there was nothing there, only the darkness that seemed to engulf her.
In an attempt to leave, she grabbed the doorknob, but the door she'd entered through would no longer open. The air grew thicker with the stench of decay, causing her to gag as she tried to suppress a rising sense of panic. The low moans grew louder, echoing off the walls and sending chills throughout her trembling body.
A flash of movement caught her eye. A pale and gaunt figure stood in the corner of the room. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light as it slowly turned to face her. Sandra's heart pounded in her chest.
As the figure drew closer, Sandra could see its twisted features, its skeletal hands reaching out to her. It let out a guttural groan, sending Sandra stumbling backward in terror, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out a hand, searching for something to defend herself with, but found only empty air.
She tripped over something on the floor and fell hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She lay there, gasping for breath, as she felt his icy hand wrap around her ankle and drag her toward the darkness. She screamed, the sound reverberating off the walls as she desperately clawed at the floor, trying to break free. But he was relentless, his grip unyielding as it pulled her closer and closer to the shadows.
The room was alive with whispers and moans, a chorus of the damned that sent tremors through her body. Sandra closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. However, when she opened them again, she found herself trapped in the ballroom, with the ghostly figures closing in on her.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a frantic voice screamed, "Sandra, grab my hand."
THE END OF CHAPTER 11
Without uttering a word, the Judge placed his hand on the sheriff's shoulder. Flames seared his shirt. The man screamed and fell to his knees, writhing in pain.
"You knew the rules, and you broke them. One chance, no more." He shook his head.
"But she —" the accused tried to protest.
The Judge shrugged his shoulders. "I have no jurisdiction over mortals, but you —" With a simple nod, a bevy of spiritual bodies surrounded the sheriff, ripping at his body and howling like the wind. Hundreds of bats appeared from nowhere, biting and clawing at the doomed man.
A black cloak of darkness surrounded him as he pleaded, "No, give me a chance." His words gurgled in his throat until he couldn't breathe anymore. His body jerked and then ceased to move.
The Judge turned his back on the lifeless body, murmuring, "You've had your last chance. May you burn in hell."
The body was yanked through the wall, disappearing into the dark, and a deathly bone-chilling scream rattled the room.
Madeline shrank against the wall, fearing what would come next.
CHAPTER 12
Sandra woke up in a surprisingly good mood, the sun shining through her window and birds chirping outside. She stretched her limbs and smiled as she got out of bed, feeling energized and ready to start the day. She slipped on her slippers and headed to the bathroom, but something caught her eye.
She gasped in disbelief. "It can't be." Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried to the foot of her bed. But it was — the book. She glanced around the room, but nothing else except Judge Parker's book was different.
Could Madeline have returned it? She couldn't think of anyone else who would have.
She quickly scrambled into bed, sitting cross-legged, the book cradled in her lap. She slowly opened the cover, and as she did, the pages turned on their own with a gentle rustling sound. Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched the pages turn by themselves.
Suddenly, the room darkened, and a cold gust of wind swept through it, making the curtains flutter. Goosebumps prickled Sandra's skin, and she suddenly felt uneasy. Her heart raced as she felt like someone was watching her.
"Who's there?" Sandra's voice trembled as she clutched her pillow, her eyes scanning the darkened room. "Speak up!"
As she looked towards the closet door, it slowly creaked open, revealing a wispy, pale figure. Sandra's pulse quickened as she saw the ghostly form move closer. "The book holds many answers, Sandra," the eerie voice said.
Sandra's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the apparition, her mind struggling to understand what she saw. She stammered, "Who — are — you?"
"Who I am is of little concern for the moment." The light surrounding the figure flickered and then dimmed. "I've little time."
Sandra inhaled sharply; her breath jagged as she spoke. "Are — you —" She swallowed hard, her words caught in her throat. "What —do you —" Her voice trailed off, unable to form the words.
Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, gliding past the wispy figure. She wore a long Victorian gown embroidered with delicate details. The fitted bodice of her dress accentuated her slender form while the sleeves billowed gently. A string of pearls adorned her neck, and her presence carried an air of refinement and melancholy. She seemed like a specter trapped between the worlds of the living and the dead.
"Forgive me, child. One cannot send a boy to do a woman's work," she said gracefully, floating towards the four-poster bed. Lace gloves adorned her slender and delicate hands. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Victoria, the loving mistress of Judge William Parker. I've given my life to save my darling, yet he remains chained to the past. Now, I understand you will be given the task."
Sandra reacted with a sharp, audible inhale. "My task?"
"Of course, child. You have the book; therefore, you will learn its secrets and, more importantly, what must be done."
Sandra wrapped the covers tightly around her as a shiver of unease gripped her. "Secrets? You mean the —" She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to unearth the Judge's dark past and incur Victoria's wrath.
"Calm yourself. I know the book speaks of murder, theft, and slavery, but that was a long time ago. Before he passed away, the Judge wanted to make amends, but he couldn't." Victoria turned her head and drifted away, moving closer to the closet door. "Perhaps James has chosen the wrong person. It's a treacherous path."
"James? The writer?" Sandra asked, intrigued.
Victoria's laughter floated in the air, a spectral sound of forgotten joy. "He's much more than that. James holds the wisdom and the keys to ending the sorrow that haunts these walls and the spirits that roam the graveyard at night."
"The lights? I saw the lights," Sandra said, her journalistic instincts taking over. "Who were they?"
The wispy figure spoke softly, his light glowing brighter as he addressed Victoria. "Our duty is to the book, not the wandering souls."
She nodded in agreement as she returned to Sandra's bedside. "Of course, the boy is right. For now, our concern is the book."
The pages of the leather book fluttered one last time and then came to a halt. A small, flat package was taped to one of the pages.
"Inside, you will find a key. Take it and follow me. I will show you the door it unlocks, but be warned, you enter at your own risk." Victoria's hand stretched out, and she touched the leather book, her fingers caressing it as if she had been lost in the past for a moment.
Returning to the task at hand, she looked at Sandra's pajamas and chuckled softly. "A change of clothing might be more suitable. Hurry, and we'll wait outside."
Sandra hesitated, her mind racing with questions and doubts. What awaited her if she followed Victoria? Was it worth the risk? Should she tell James and Lorrie, or would they stop her from searching?
Sensing her doubts, the ghostly figure whispered, "It's your choice. You do not have to seek out the answers. I am here to ask." Her silhouette began to fade.
Pushing her fears aside, Sandra jumped out of bed. "No, I want to go," she said with determination. She grabbed a shirt and jeans and rushed into the bathroom to change. Her mind swirled in confusion, but the thrill of adventure pulled her forward.
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Sandra spoke to herself in a wavering voice, "I don't — I didn't believe in ghosts, but how can I explain my visitors?" She sighed. "I don't want to wake up if I'm dreaming." She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "Real or not, prepare yourself, Sandra, for an adventure you can never explain." She smiled, ready for the challenge.
******
Madeline hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs. She heard hushed voices coming from Sandra's room. The previous night's memories flashed through her mind, but her curiosity overcame her apprehension. She shook her head, trying to dispel her foolish fears.
"This house is getting to you, Madeline. It was just a crazy nightmare and nothing else," she muttered. "I'm leaving, so what's the harm of listening to see what that woman is up to?"
As she approached Sandra's door, the voices stopped. She pressed her ear closer to listen and saw the doorknob turn. Stifling a gasp, she hurried across the hall, slipped inside another bedroom, and peered through a tiny gap in the door.
She watched as Sandra exited her room, clutching the book, and hurried down the dimly lit hallway. She stepped out of her hiding spot, took a few tentative steps towards the stairs, but then hesitated, mulling over the possibilities.
"She's got the book with her. Did she find a clue to the treasure?" Her thoughts flashed to the nightmare and then back to Sandra. "Am I going to let her find it?" Madeline grinned because she knew the answer. "Absolutely not!"
She hurried to the end of the hall and peeked around the corner in time to see Sandra disappear around another corner. She could feel her adrenaline pumping through her veins as she rushed to keep Sandra in sight. In her heightened excitement, she failed to notice the change in temperature as she followed Sandra.
Victoria drifted through the shadowy corridor and descended a long, winding staircase, stopping occasionally to listen and then beckon Sandra to follow. The steps creaked beneath Sandra's feet, and layers of cobwebs brushed against her face. The musty air filled her nostrils as they ventured further into the mansion. Sandra realized no living person had been inside these rooms for a long time. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement.
Caught up in her thoughts, Sandra hadn't realized she was suddenly alone. "Victoria? Are you still here?" Chills swept over her, leaving her in a cold, clammy sweat. She felt a presence lurking in the shadows, watching her. "Victoria, is that you?" The cold made her teeth chatter as she asked, "Is — someone — there?"
There was no response, only faint murmurings in the distance. As Sandra strained to listen, she heard the staircase creak and footsteps echoing in the hallway, gradually getting closer and closer. It was then that she knew someone was following her. Her mind screamed, "Hide."
Panic set in as she desperately searched for a place where she wouldn't be seen. She pushed open a nearby door with trembling hands and stepped inside. It was a grand ballroom with vaulted ceilings embellished with intricate plaster medallions and beautiful painted artwork. Thick velvet drapes hung over the dusty windows, casting the room in a dim and spooky light. Along the walls, there were matching velvet sofas and small wooden tables. A spiral staircase led to the curved observation balconies on the upper level with tiered crystal chandeliers glittering in the soft light. A baby grand piano played a soft, melancholy tune.
As she stood frozen in place, Sandra sensed more than she saw. Groups of people lurked in the shadows, men in tuxedos and women with fancy updos, elaborate gowns, and massive jewelry. Their eyes glowed with an eerie light, watching her every move as she tentatively stepped further into the room. The murmuring of voices filled the air, but the words were unintelligible, adding to the heavy atmosphere.
Without uttering a word, the Judge placed his hand on the sheriff's shoulder. Flames seared his shirt. The man screamed and fell to his knees, writhing in pain.
"You knew the rules, and you broke them. One chance, no more." He shook his head.
"But she —" the accused tried to protest.
The Judge shrugged his shoulders. "I have no jurisdiction over mortals, but you —" With a simple nod, a bevy of spiritual bodies surrounded the sheriff, ripping at his body and howling like the wind. Hundreds of bats appeared from nowhere, biting and clawing at the doomed man.
A black cloak of darkness surrounded him as he pleaded, "No, give me a chance." His words gurgled in his throat until he couldn't breathe anymore. His body jerked and then ceased to move.
The Judge turned his back on the lifeless body, murmuring, "You've had your last chance. May you burn in hell."
The body was yanked through the wall, disappearing into the dark, and a deathly bone-chilling scream rattled the room.
Madeline shrank against the wall, fearing what would come next.
CHAPTER 12
Sandra woke up in a surprisingly good mood, the sun shining through her window and birds chirping outside. She stretched her limbs and smiled as she got out of bed, feeling energized and ready to start the day. She slipped on her slippers and headed to the bathroom, but something caught her eye.
She gasped in disbelief. "It can't be." Her heart skipped a beat as she hurried to the foot of her bed. But it was — the book. She glanced around the room, but nothing else except Judge Parker's book was different.
Could Madeline have returned it? She couldn't think of anyone else who would have.
She quickly scrambled into bed, sitting cross-legged, the book cradled in her lap. She slowly opened the cover, and as she did, the pages turned on their own with a gentle rustling sound. Her eyes widened in surprise as she watched the pages turn by themselves.
Suddenly, the room darkened, and a cold gust of wind swept through it, making the curtains flutter. Goosebumps prickled Sandra's skin, and she suddenly felt uneasy. Her heart raced as she felt like someone was watching her.
"Who's there?" Sandra's voice trembled as she clutched her pillow, her eyes scanning the darkened room. "Speak up!"
As she looked towards the closet door, it slowly creaked open, revealing a wispy, pale figure. Sandra's pulse quickened as she saw the ghostly form move closer. "The book holds many answers, Sandra," the eerie voice said.
Sandra's breath caught in her throat as she stared at the apparition, her mind struggling to understand what she saw. She stammered, "Who — are — you?"
"Who I am is of little concern for the moment." The light surrounding the figure flickered and then dimmed. "I've little time."
Sandra inhaled sharply; her breath jagged as she spoke. "Are — you —" She swallowed hard, her words caught in her throat. "What —do you —" Her voice trailed off, unable to form the words.
Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, gliding past the wispy figure. She wore a long Victorian gown embroidered with delicate details. The fitted bodice of her dress accentuated her slender form while the sleeves billowed gently. A string of pearls adorned her neck, and her presence carried an air of refinement and melancholy. She seemed like a specter trapped between the worlds of the living and the dead.
"Forgive me, child. One cannot send a boy to do a woman's work," she said gracefully, floating towards the four-poster bed. Lace gloves adorned her slender and delicate hands. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Victoria, the loving mistress of Judge William Parker. I've given my life to save my darling, yet he remains chained to the past. Now, I understand you will be given the task."
Sandra reacted with a sharp, audible inhale. "My task?"
"Of course, child. You have the book; therefore, you will learn its secrets and, more importantly, what must be done."
Sandra wrapped the covers tightly around her as a shiver of unease gripped her. "Secrets? You mean the —" She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to unearth the Judge's dark past and incur Victoria's wrath.
"Calm yourself. I know the book speaks of murder, theft, and slavery, but that was a long time ago. Before he passed away, the Judge wanted to make amends, but he couldn't." Victoria turned her head and drifted away, moving closer to the closet door. "Perhaps James has chosen the wrong person. It's a treacherous path."
"James? The writer?" Sandra asked, intrigued.
Victoria's laughter floated in the air, a spectral sound of forgotten joy. "He's much more than that. James holds the wisdom and the keys to ending the sorrow that haunts these walls and the spirits that roam the graveyard at night."
"The lights? I saw the lights," Sandra said, her journalistic instincts taking over. "Who were they?"
The wispy figure spoke softly, his light glowing brighter as he addressed Victoria. "Our duty is to the book, not the wandering souls."
She nodded in agreement as she returned to Sandra's bedside. "Of course, the boy is right. For now, our concern is the book."
The pages of the leather book fluttered one last time and then came to a halt. A small, flat package was taped to one of the pages.
"Inside, you will find a key. Take it and follow me. I will show you the door it unlocks, but be warned, you enter at your own risk." Victoria's hand stretched out, and she touched the leather book, her fingers caressing it as if she had been lost in the past for a moment.
Returning to the task at hand, she looked at Sandra's pajamas and chuckled softly. "A change of clothing might be more suitable. Hurry, and we'll wait outside."
Sandra hesitated, her mind racing with questions and doubts. What awaited her if she followed Victoria? Was it worth the risk? Should she tell James and Lorrie, or would they stop her from searching?
Sensing her doubts, the ghostly figure whispered, "It's your choice. You do not have to seek out the answers. I am here to ask." Her silhouette began to fade.
Pushing her fears aside, Sandra jumped out of bed. "No, I want to go," she said with determination. She grabbed a shirt and jeans and rushed into the bathroom to change. Her mind swirled in confusion, but the thrill of adventure pulled her forward.
As she stared at her reflection in the mirror, Sandra spoke to herself in a wavering voice, "I don't — I didn't believe in ghosts, but how can I explain my visitors?" She sighed. "I don't want to wake up if I'm dreaming." She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "Real or not, prepare yourself, Sandra, for an adventure you can never explain." She smiled, ready for the challenge.
******
Madeline hesitated for a moment at the top of the stairs. She heard hushed voices coming from Sandra's room. The previous night's memories flashed through her mind, but her curiosity overcame her apprehension. She shook her head, trying to dispel her foolish fears.
"This house is getting to you, Madeline. It was just a crazy nightmare and nothing else," she muttered. "I'm leaving, so what's the harm of listening to see what that woman is up to?"
As she approached Sandra's door, the voices stopped. She pressed her ear closer to listen and saw the doorknob turn. Stifling a gasp, she hurried across the hall, slipped inside another bedroom, and peered through a tiny gap in the door.
She watched as Sandra exited her room, clutching the book, and hurried down the dimly lit hallway. She stepped out of her hiding spot, took a few tentative steps towards the stairs, but then hesitated, mulling over the possibilities.
"She's got the book with her. Did she find a clue to the treasure?" Her thoughts flashed to the nightmare and then back to Sandra. "Am I going to let her find it?" Madeline grinned because she knew the answer. "Absolutely not!"
She hurried to the end of the hall and peeked around the corner in time to see Sandra disappear around another corner. She could feel her adrenaline pumping through her veins as she rushed to keep Sandra in sight. In her heightened excitement, she failed to notice the change in temperature as she followed Sandra.
Victoria drifted through the shadowy corridor and descended a long, winding staircase, stopping occasionally to listen and then beckon Sandra to follow. The steps creaked beneath Sandra's feet, and layers of cobwebs brushed against her face. The musty air filled her nostrils as they ventured further into the mansion. Sandra realized no living person had been inside these rooms for a long time. Her heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement.
Caught up in her thoughts, Sandra hadn't realized she was suddenly alone. "Victoria? Are you still here?" Chills swept over her, leaving her in a cold, clammy sweat. She felt a presence lurking in the shadows, watching her. "Victoria, is that you?" The cold made her teeth chatter as she asked, "Is — someone — there?"
There was no response, only faint murmurings in the distance. As Sandra strained to listen, she heard the staircase creak and footsteps echoing in the hallway, gradually getting closer and closer. It was then that she knew someone was following her. Her mind screamed, "Hide."
Panic set in as she desperately searched for a place where she wouldn't be seen. She pushed open a nearby door with trembling hands and stepped inside. It was a grand ballroom with vaulted ceilings embellished with intricate plaster medallions and beautiful painted artwork. Thick velvet drapes hung over the dusty windows, casting the room in a dim and spooky light. Along the walls, there were matching velvet sofas and small wooden tables. A spiral staircase led to the curved observation balconies on the upper level with tiered crystal chandeliers glittering in the soft light. A baby grand piano played a soft, melancholy tune.
As she stood frozen in place, Sandra sensed more than she saw. Groups of people lurked in the shadows, men in tuxedos and women with fancy updos, elaborate gowns, and massive jewelry. Their eyes glowed with an eerie light, watching her every move as she tentatively stepped further into the room. The murmuring of voices filled the air, but the words were unintelligible, adding to the heavy atmosphere.
A cold gust of wind swept through the room, causing her hair to stand on end. The faint light flickered, casting wispy shadows that seemed to dance around her. She felt a presence behind her, and an icy chill crept across her shoulders and up her neck. She slowly turned around, but there was nothing there, only the darkness that seemed to engulf her.
In an attempt to leave, she grabbed the doorknob, but the door she'd entered through would no longer open. The air grew thicker with the stench of decay, causing her to gag as she tried to suppress a rising sense of panic. The low moans grew louder, echoing off the walls and sending chills throughout her trembling body.
A flash of movement caught her eye. A pale and gaunt figure stood in the corner of the room. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light as it slowly turned to face her. Sandra's heart pounded in her chest.
As the figure drew closer, Sandra could see its twisted features, its skeletal hands reaching out to her. It let out a guttural groan, sending Sandra stumbling backward in terror, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out a hand, searching for something to defend herself with, but found only empty air.
She tripped over something on the floor and fell hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She lay there, gasping for breath, as she felt his icy hand wrap around her ankle and drag her toward the darkness. She screamed, the sound reverberating off the walls as she desperately clawed at the floor, trying to break free. But he was relentless, his grip unyielding as it pulled her closer and closer to the shadows.
The room was alive with whispers and moans, a chorus of the damned that sent tremors through her body. Sandra closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. However, when she opened them again, she found herself trapped in the ballroom, with the ghostly figures closing in on her.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a frantic voice screamed, "Sandra, grab my hand."
In an attempt to leave, she grabbed the doorknob, but the door she'd entered through would no longer open. The air grew thicker with the stench of decay, causing her to gag as she tried to suppress a rising sense of panic. The low moans grew louder, echoing off the walls and sending chills throughout her trembling body.
A flash of movement caught her eye. A pale and gaunt figure stood in the corner of the room. Its eyes glowed with an eerie light as it slowly turned to face her. Sandra's heart pounded in her chest.
As the figure drew closer, Sandra could see its twisted features, its skeletal hands reaching out to her. It let out a guttural groan, sending Sandra stumbling backward in terror, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out a hand, searching for something to defend herself with, but found only empty air.
She tripped over something on the floor and fell hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. She lay there, gasping for breath, as she felt his icy hand wrap around her ankle and drag her toward the darkness. She screamed, the sound reverberating off the walls as she desperately clawed at the floor, trying to break free. But he was relentless, his grip unyielding as it pulled her closer and closer to the shadows.
The room was alive with whispers and moans, a chorus of the damned that sent tremors through her body. Sandra closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare. However, when she opened them again, she found herself trapped in the ballroom, with the ghostly figures closing in on her.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a frantic voice screamed, "Sandra, grab my hand."
 Recognized |
Sandra Monroe - fledgling investigative reporter
Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly mistress
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Annie - Sandra's loyal assistant
Les - Sandra's boss
Detective Ryan Hamilton
Judge William Parker
Benny Gonzales - The Hitman
Lorrie - the housekeeper
James Matthews - writer living in the mansion's carriage house
Noah Wakefield - deceased
Madeline Wakefield - widow
The Familiar Stranger
Kitty, Maggie, Frank, Teresa - ghosts from Madeline's past
The sheriff - An evil man given one last chance to change his ways
Victoria - the ghostly mistress
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