Heirloom Magic (Paranormal)

Chapter Two

Harper dug through the hallway closet as quietly as she could. She knew her gran had been a pack rat and kept all her childhood stuff, and one summer she'd been a proud member of the 'Bantam Bama Batters.' Finally, her shaking fingers landed on the pink baseball bat with the Barbie stickers that nine-year-old Harper had loved. It wasn't the most lethal looking thing, but it was all she had. So help her, she would break someone's skull open if they tried any funny business!

The noise came again, making Harper jump. The stairs creaked loudly under her feet and she quickly jumped down to the next step, praying it would be quieter. This was becoming the start to every bad slasher movie she'd ever seen! Harper reached the bottom of the stairs without further incident and rushed forward to check the front door; it was still locked. She moved silently through the dark house and tried the back door and then all the windows. Nothing had been disturbed or left open. The sound came again, a scraping noise and then a heavy thump. Harper was finally able to pinpoint the source...

...the basement. Wonderful. Harper stared at the heavy oak door that led downstairs and listened to the thumping again. There was another noise now, a scuffling of sorts, like something digging in dry earth. Harper pulled her phone out of her bra and stared at it, not sure if she should call the sheriff. She bit her lip and agonized for a long moment before deciding not. One summer she and Gran had been awakened by a similar noise, and Gran had gone to investigate and reported that it'd been a possum that had gotten into the basement and had been knocking things over.

Harper would feel like an utter fool if she called the sheriff and made a huge kerfuffle over a possum. Besides, wouldn't a burglar take more care to be quiet? None of the doors or windows had been disturbed... She bit her lip in uncertainty before deciding that it must be a possum. She stared at the door before chickening out. If she had to confront a possum, there was no way she was going to do it in the middle of the night.

Harper dragged out a chair from the kitchen, just in case, and wedged it underneath the basement door knob. Then she sat on the couch to stare at it like she expected the possum to squeeze its way underneath the door and maul her.

Harper woke up with something stiff and hard poking her in the back. "Not right now..." she mumbled sleepily before her eyes flew open and she glanced around blearily. She was in Alabama, in her gran's house, and she was sprawled out on the couch in some sort of pretzel-like position. So what in the hell was poking her in the back? Harper dug around behind her and pulled the offending baseball bat out of her back, where it had somehow gotten wedged between the couch and her spine. The bat reminded her about her midnight prowler and she spun in a panic, letting out a little sigh of relief when she saw that the chair was still firmly in place. She was surprised she'd been able to get any sleep with all that racket. Last time she'd glanced at a clock it had been a little after four in the morning.

Harper stood up and her head started to pound. Her mouth was dry like she'd spent the night drinking. "Ugh," she moaned, clutching her head as she stood up, intent on having a shower. The ringing of the doorbell interrupted her path, and she skirted around to the front door instead.

Looking through the peephole, she could see her parents standing on the front step, and she let out a groan.

"Honey?" her mom called through the door. "We heard that—open up."

Harper grimaced and unlocked the door, plastering a smile on her face.

"Morning," she said as her Mom barged inside to wrap her in a big hug.

"Goodness, Honey, you look terrible!" her mother said, planting her hands on her hips. Her dad followed his wife inside, far more subdued, and pressed a kiss to Harper's cheek.