The Porcelain Doll

The Haunting of the Hallway

John's bedroom was everything he might have asked for, and yet he still found that the soft mattress and feather stuffed pillows were not enough to get him to sleep. The blankets were plush and warm, the heater trickling warm air through the room to counter the draft of chilly night air which escaped through the gaps along the window panes, everything was as perfect as he could hope for. And yet John still kept his eyes open, his ears straining to listen to the sounds which came at a strange, unpredictable rhythm throughout the house. John kept his back stiff against the bed, with his fingers drawing up the unfamiliar blankets to his chest in a very fragile shell of security. The room was just illuminated enough that John could make out silhouettes of objects through the pale moonlight, this creating ominous shadows and strange, looming figures in the corners he had not checked so diligently before he extinguished the oil lamp. How could John rationalize that long figure in the corner as a coatrack when he only faintly remembered seeing one when he went to bed? Each one of these objects was foreign, each inch of this room entirely threatening in such strange circumstances! And those noises, what sounded like a muffled howl coming from some distant hallway of the manor...oh what could John do to rationalize those within his head? From what he could tell there was no dog within the house, and certainly the children had fallen asleep in these growing hours of night! From what John could tell it was well past midnight, and yet still those deep octaves troubled him from through many layers of empty walls. For some time John tried to tell himself that he was making the sounds up, and occasionally his sleepy brain could forget about them when they had grown more distant in time and even fainter within his memory. Though just as John was trying to convince himself fit was a dream there the sounds were again, cutting through him like a sharp shiver and interrupting his feeling of security once more. Perhaps these were noises that were heard very often throughout the Holmes household, noises that he simply hadn't grown used to? Perhaps those deep yells were the product of strange rich habits, a servant who was forced to scare the bats away from the gardens once night had fallen? Or a strange machine that John had never heard of before, perhaps a dishwashing machine that made a deep and human groaning each time it loaded another plate into its system? John was helpless but to try to go to sleep, at last readjusting himself so that he could shove his ear onto his pillow and stifle out the majority of the distasteful sounds. As his sleep was beginning to approach John was able to relax, his tense muscles at last releasing and easing carefully upon the soft and inviting folds within the sheets. His dreams were coming closer, the laughter of distant friends and the smell of sweet flowers. So close was John to sleep, so close that it made his final interruption one of complete despair! Just as his eyes were beginning to stay shut on their own a loud thump echoed through the hallways, a sound which must have been made just feet outside of his door! It was loud enough that John jumped into a sitting position, shaking from head to toe as he grasped towards his oil lamp and switched on the flames, bathing the room in that predictable orange glow and illuminating each one of the looming objects he had once pondered. With the coming of the light the furniture appeared less threatening, though John could still hear commotion right outside of his door, proving that the real danger lay outside of his bedroom walls and not within. With any good reasoning John would have stayed where he was, hidden within his blankets and safe from any intruders on the other side of his door. But of course John was blessed with many things, good reasoning never having been one. And so, when his curiosity had finally overtaken his lingering fear, John thrust his legs out from under the blankets and let his bare feet touch down upon the cold hardwood. John's hair was still in something of a rat's nest atop his head, and as he strode towards the door his long white dress shirt took to tangling around his knees, making each step clumsy and rather loud. He wasn't going to sneak up upon this intruder, though John almost wondered if hiding was ever the other man's intention. All of this noise made within the house, now coupled with the banging right outside of the closed bedroom doors, who could possibly call that being discreet? John pressed his ear to his bedroom door, almost afraid to hear heavy breathing coming from the opposite side of the wood. When he could hear nothing but silence John decided it was best to go investigative, though not before he branded some sort of weapon to defend himself with! Perhaps there really were wolves loose within the house, or intruders with loud and unnecessary voices! Looking around through the dim lighting John was able to pick up a small iron bar, one which seemed to be used for the door stopper if ever there was a need. It was a heavy object, suitable for bludgeoning if the need arose. Armed with this iron and whatever confidence he could muster John felt for his door knob, unlocking it with a quick twist of his fingers and turning just as quietly as he could manage. From his side of the door John could see nothing but blackness on the other side, staring through a mere sliver into the outside world. He could hear something, perhaps no audible sounds but a strange sort of presence, as if his ears were more in tune to his surroundings than his now useless eyes. The hallway appeared to contain nothing but shadows, though a most unsettling feeling now plagued his heart and John knew that he was not fully alone. As he eased the door open just a little wider John wielded his iron bar, holding it up in the air as if to threaten the presence that he could not see. Despite his own ignorance John had the feeling that he was being watched, that the darkness was not a deterrent for the sharp and precise eyes of his opponent. His skin was crawling, though still John opened the door despite his now most urgent wishes to shut it tight and cower under the safety of his bed. As he exposed more of the hallway John was at last greeted with some source of light, the window at the end of the hallway was left without a curtain and allowed a long, radiant gleam of moonlight to pass through the hallway and silhouette anything which stood within its way. John could make out the details of a small chest of drawers, a vase which sat upon an end table, and multiple picture frames that seemed to be floating across the wall rather than simply hung. Though no man, no woman, and no child seemed to linger in the doorways. Not even a fly seemed to move through the halls, making John wonder if he had heard anything at all. Though just as he began to turn back, as John figured that his nerves were getting the best of him after all, just then was there a rustling through the hallway, like feet being dragged across the rug just feet next to where he now trembled. And suddenly, like a specter appearing from thin air, the figure of a man appeared within the center of the hall. John was almost too afraid to take a good look, as all he saw at first was a blinding light taking a humanoid shape, as if an angel had appeared from the Heavens to bid the tutor to go back to bed. Once John's eyes adjusted and once his nerves were subsided, finally John was able to get a better look upon the figure which scared him so. The strange man was glowing with a radiance that John had never seen before, his skin completely bare as his figure was silhouetted by abrupt and absorbed moonlight. While his more sensitive areas were shrouded in shadow John could make out the majority of the figure's lean body, with soft curves of muscle appearing throughout his skinny frame and sharp, jutting bones stretching his white skin just as far as it could reach. If John had only seen the human frame and soft skin of the man he might not have been afraid, though the figure's nakedness was not the most terrifying aspect to his strange appearance. John took one glance at the face before yelping his utmost horror, catching just the slightest glimpse of the figure beginning to move closer when at last he was able to shut and latch his door, hiding behind the wood with the whole of his body weight pressed against the handle. John's fingers trembled so hard they dropped his only weapon, the iron bar clanging to the ground as his knees slipped and his weight fell to join it upon the floor. The tutor positioned his feet against the wood to withstand a push from the other side, now beginning to worry that the ghost would try to force its way into his room after having made direct eye contact with its new and potential victim. John trembled against the door, closing his eyes and wishing that when he opened them it would be daylight and his waking nightmare would fade away into a bad and troubling memory. For it was something more than a man which he dealt with, something more troubling than any simple creature lingering uninvited down the halls. This was a ghost, a radiant figure, a lost and wandering spirit who had come to cause chaos through the old and glamorous halls of the Holmes manor. His body was glowing in the moonlight but his face...oh his face was blank! No eyes but black holes carved into the head, no nose to be defined in the shadow, no lips which to stretch into a smile! His face was white, perfectly white, as if wiped clean and painted to hide the deformities below. That was no human which walked the halls of the Holmes manor, though who knows how often its footsteps tread throughout the night? Would John have to get used to the fact that his new house, this rich man's paradise, was plagued with a horror which could not be found in any corner of the Manhattan slums?