My feet thud across the carpeted corridors. I follow the sound of the soft footsteps, hurried and incessant. Ghosts don't make as much sound as we do, I guess. I catch a glimpse of a near-transparent shadow flash across the breezeway. I'm gaining. Although, I'm not exactly sure that's a good thing.
The realization dawns. I'm chasing a ghost. Alone. A ghost. With supernatural powers. My steps slow, though not because of my inhibition; I've chased plenty of mysteries before. The soft plods on the carpet have stopped. The ghost is nowhere to be seen. A gust of wind brushes past me and the door at the end of the hall sweeps open. Cautiously, I take a few steps closer. One foot, then another. I'm getting closer. My left foot crosses the rosewood threshold into the room.
It's a small room. The same wine-colored carpet from the corridor spills into this room. There is an antique lamp on a scuffed table. A mirrored bureau takes up most of the far side of the room. A dusty lace cummerbund sits neglected on its surface. A large, upholstered chair sits unoccupied. It's fabric is a wild pattern of floral odds and ends, but that's not what catches my attention. It's the letter, written on old, yellowed paper. The words look as if they should have been written centuries ago, but I know from context they're quite a bit more modern. I pour over the fancy, looping script.
Miss Mistero,
Are you entirely sure this a matter you should be looking into? I would hate to see yet another tragedy on the stage of this opera house.
Sincerely,
O.G.
At some point I must have stopped breathing, because now I gasp for air. It's the same initials as before, O.G., the same ghost. I turn the letter over, expecting to find the same skull as usual looking up at me. Nothing. My eyes gaze upwards to the table on the right arm of a chair. A small metal object, that looks rather like a stamp sits upon the marked surface of once-polished wood. I must have missed it on my previous survey of the room. Lifting the small object, I can see the skull insignia printed on it. Bingo!
Behind me, and to my left. I hear a light tread upon the soft expanse of carpeting. I turn, expecting to see the ghost. I'm disappointed; nothing's there. Without warning, I hear a sharp click and the lamp is extinguished. In the newfound darkness, however, I can see a burgundy candle, tall and solemn flickering on the back corner of the bureau. It's high time for me to leave, I think.
Somehow the door has been locked, I have to slide the cold, gold chain across and unhook the clasp. I turn the handle and am blinded by the comparative brightness. Walking back to my room, I feel as if my every move is being monitored. Finally, I reach my room. The handle does not turn easily, however. It stops midway, almost as if the door is.... locked. I really need a ghost-busting kit.
YOU ARE READING
The Perri Mistero Series: Black Roses Fall
Mystery / ThrillerPerri is a young girl with a passion. She loves solving strange urban legends and mysteries. She tackles whatever she can, and on top of it, writes what happens on her world famous blog. Now, Perri travels to Paris to unravel the strange "Phantom of...
