Whisked Away

Being Taunted By A Ghost Is Exceptionally Fun!

Who Knew? Being Taunted by a ghost is exceptionally fun!

And by fun, I mean horrible.

"Who are you!?" I demand.

Genevieve was alone; and yet she was not. She felt another presence with her... Just by the sound of the voice she could tell that it was a male speaking to her.

A very powerful voice , she thought.

"It is not who I am that matters, foolish mortal. It is the name that belongs that matters, eh? I don't suppose you could give an answer as to what you are doing in my house?"

His house!? How am I in his house!? It's not like I knew! This place has been desolate for as long as I can remember!

"I-I-It was a dare." I quickly recovered my stability. I had to say something, so I said the truth.

I'm just going to take a wild guess and say this guy is a "ghost".

"Ah, foolish mortal, you haven't answered my question, have you not? If you are looking for ghosts in this house, we are very much alive..." The dark voice paused as if to think about his words. "We happen to have a more... convenient guise, if that is what you wish to see."

"I don't understand."

"You say you do not understand and that is because it has already begun-"

"What has already begun? You're not making sense!" Genevieve yelled, panicking.

"Oh but, just wait." The ghost host cackled. Then he said in a hushed tone. "It will."

Then, the ceiling changes. From going to a regular plain old ceiling to a sort of an old, attic like tower. As I gaze up at it, questioning how and why it changed.

"It'd be a good place for a hanging, would it not?" The ghost host asks, sounding like he wants to laugh.

I just stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out why I see this-- tower. It seems familiar somehow.

The high windows of the tower-that are very out of reach- whoosh open.

Dozens of black wispy figures fly in-- wraiths. The wraiths presence is worse than the ghost hosts. It feels like they suck the air out of the room.

I crouch on my knees. I don't know what these things can do. Whether they harm or are just for effect, they look dangerous. They feel dangerous.

I put my hands behind my neck to at least protect one part of my body.

"Stop! Make it stop!" I beg.

"We will never let you go, foolish mortal!" The ghost host counters. "We will NOT let you leave this house!"

I then start screaming.

And then, they disappear. All at once as if they never were here.

The ceiling goes back to normal. No tower ceiling, no high windows. It's gone. Now the ceiling matches the wallpaper.

Then, I just notice the portraits. I don't know how I hadn't before. Maybe since I was so preoccupied with this... Ghost Host.

There are each four portraits, each depicting victims demises. One portrait has a ballerina delicately balancing over a tightrope but underneath the tightrope is an open jawed alligator.

"As said, we have more convenient guise."

"As I can see." I yell at the ceiling. I stand up, looking at the four portraits. "Listen, guy, all I need is proof that I was in this house and I'll be gone forever!"

There is silence in the room. As if the ghost host was thinking about what I said.

Then, he finally says, "This proof you speak of. . . Was it something that gave off light? Did you drop it in the chamber before this?"

He must mean my phone! "Yes!"

"Ah. Well then, you really are stuck here forever." The ghost host said.

"What do you mean?" I shout. "We had a deal!"

"We had no such arrangement." The ghost said plainly. "The glowing object you said you so possess (or once possessed) is now dead and gone."

"Gone? Where could it have possibly have gone!" I shout once more. "It's not like it grew legs and walked out!"

------

Katie Anderson walked into the old mansion.

"This place is sick." She said in awe. She looked at the enormous great hall. She had her iPhone out taking pictures of everything. Everything was dusty and covered in age old spider webs.

Unlike Genevieve, she heard no music. No music whatsoever.

"Come on out, you wimp!" She called out. The empty room made her words echo.

Contrary to Genevieve however, Katie felt a cold draft.

With no success, Katie moved onto the next room. With the next room being a hallway, Katie walked into the next room.

This room was the single portrait room. The portrait of Master Gracey stared down at her, judging her, mocking her.

She felt small and meek in the presence of such a painting, of such a painting, of who the person was in the painting.

Katie knew the legends and stories surrounding Gracey Manor. She didn't believe any of them of course, she'd grown up hearing these stories.

Her foot stepped on something hard. She looked down and tentatively removed her foot, scared what she was stepping on was bones. No, it wasn't bones. It was Gens phone.

Katie scooped it up and pressed the on button. It was at 1% battery. Katie looked at the message right as the phone died. It was a selfie of the portrait and Genevieve. She was making an "I gotcha" face. The portrait in the picture looked even more overbearing that it was now. Katie glanced up at the portrait as Genevieve's phone died, the portrait seemed to glare at her.

The room got cold, it felt like Katie was in the frozen section of the food store. But the temperature in the room kept dropping.

She gasped and dropped the phone. Its screen cracked.

For there was a figure in the doorway. That figure was a tall man, with curly black hair and piercing blue eyes. Katie looked back at the portrait. It was him. It was Master Gracey.

He walked into the room, and spread his arms as if welcoming her. Gracey then smiled. To him, it was a friendly smile. But to Katie, it was creepy.

"You see dear, I don't like unwanted visitors in my house." He says, kindly.

"St-stay away!" Katie stuttered. She was scared. She didn't believe in ghosts, but now she did. And now, she had proof.

"And what are you going to do? Hmm?" Gracey asked as he advanced toward her. Katie backed away, she backed up toward the portrait and fireplace. The fire was roaring as if it was renewed with new life.

Everywhere in the manor, no matter where you stood, you could hear Katie Andersons screams of pain and terror. For, being in this house uninvited... can hold drastic consequences.