Between Worlds

Chapter 1 - The Arrival

Death is not the end but a doorway. It is the thin veil between the tangible and the ethereal, a whisper of a breath that lingers in the twilight. In the stillness of night, when shadows deepen and the world holds its breath, Death wanders the earth, unseen yet ever-present. It is a quiet specter, not cloaked in darkness, but in the soft, silver light of the moon, casting a glow that is neither warm nor cold but a haunting in-between.

Scarlet took a deep breath and contemplated what to say next. Just as a short thought popped into her head, the car came to a halt. They had been on the road for hours, and she was surprised that her father's rusty old car had survived this long. Traveling from New York to some unknown town called 'Maple Hollow' was not as fun as her parents made it out to be; there had been the playing of loud disco music, which soon led to her father getting too into doing the finger point, almost swaying the car into destruction.  

"What do you think, Scarlet?"

Scarlet creased her eyebrows in confusion until she realized what her mother, Jude, had told her about the house. It had been there for centuries, and dear old Mom and Dad took their vintage buying habits to town, spending a little bit (quite a lot) on that semi-mansion. Scarlet, on the other hand, had doubts about the house. She stepped out of the car, facing the house in question. It stood tall, an oak wood color showing on its exterior, bringing out its antiqueness.

"I still have my doubts, Mom," Scarlet said, raising a hand to her forehead, massaging her temples in slow, circular motions. With a deep, weary sigh, Scarlet tilted her head downward, her gaze falling to the floor.

"My god, Scarlet, it's not the end of the world."

The words came from her mother, who sounded slightly irritated at her truthfulness. Was she supposed to pretend that she was happy with the move? Hard pass. Scarlett's father had taken the opportunity to cut the tension with a nervous chuckle and came between us.

"Okay, ladies, can we please take the time to appreciate the lovely home in front of us?"

He made his way through scattered boxes on the lawn. The moving truck made it here before them. He had done weird dance moves to the front door. Scarlett was happy for him; he managed to land a good and well-paying job, moving them to this small town. Scarlet stood staring at the building for what felt like hours, trying to interpret it, when a gust of coldness entered throughout her body. It was strange. It was summer and eerily hot, so why would she be getting these chills? The feeling came and went.

Scarlet entered the room littered with all her boxes, making it seem impossible to get a step in. The first thing that hit her was the color—an unsettling, grimy shade of green that seemed to cling to the walls like mildew. The paint was chipped and peeling in places, revealing the old, water-stained plaster beneath. The air was heavy with the musty scent of neglect, mixed with the faint aroma of cardboard from the haphazard boxes stacked around the room. Each box was marked with black Sharpie, a stark contrast against the dull, faded labels of their previous lives. They formed an irregular maze on the worn, creaky wooden floor, forcing her to navigate carefully as she moved about. A single window, its glass smudged and dirty, allowed a weak, filtered light to seep into the room, casting long shadows that danced eerily across the walls. The ceiling bore the signs of age and water damage, with dark stains spreading like ghostly fingers reaching down. An old, rusty ceiling fan hung precariously, its blades coated in a thick layer of dust, unmoving in the stifling air. Scarlet sighed, feeling the weight of the task ahead. She knew that unpacking these boxes was only the beginning. As she began to clear a path through the clutter, she could not shake the feeling that this room held secrets, that its history was as murky and hidden as the grimy walls that surrounded her.