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no. 1

October 2017. It's Friday the Thirteenth. The time is 10:57 p.m.

The house is mostly visited on Halloween but this year happens to host a Friday the Thirteenth in the month of haunting.

One particular pair of kids venture the home in hopes of a night of adrenaline. The boy, Ashford, leads the way, his tight jeans clinging to his legs in the way his girlfriend clings to his side. Alice's hair blows in the wind, covering her bright green eyes, shielding her from the dark pathway to the house.

The cool autumn air is as crisp as the fallen leaves the lovers tramps upon, ivy covering the walls of the abandoned home.

"Ash, I'm getting queasy," Alice winces, gripping at her aching stomach.

"Not much further baby," the boy replies. "I promise you'll forget everyone of those ghost tales with my face between your thighs."

The two slide open the first window they approach, moving cobwebs and dead foliage from their way. As they creep into what appears to be a formal living room, the couple hear creaks and moans from the floor above.

"Babe," Alice jumps. Her nails dig further into his worn jacket and his arm muscles tighten.

"It's just the wind," Ashford reassures her, also attempting to convince himself.

Ashford and Alice make their way through the home, passing empty alcohol containers, half smoked joints and clothes thrown to the side in an attempt to forget about the responsibilities of school, home and work. They journey further into the house, approaching the stairs and exchanging glances that hold both excitement and anxiety.

Rushing up the stairs, the couple bursts into one of the dust covered bedrooms. Their lips connect like magnets, hands roaming under clothes, teasing each other's' sexual threshold.

As they fall onto the plastic covered bed, a crash sounds from the bathroom down the hall.

Hands freeze, breaths hitch, time itself pauses.

Alice's eyes widen as she jolts up from underneath her lover, his body weight also shift towards the door. Slowly, Ashford lifts himself from where he lay on the bed and begins to creep toward the source of sound.

Every hair on his body stands at attention and his heartbeat quickens, matching the beat of a radio blaring from a car outside.

"Stay here, Alice," he states, his tone stern but his voice shaking ever so slightly.

A second crash is heard, this time a bit closer to their current location in the bedroom. Ashford sets his sights on the bedroom three doors down, the latest location of commotion. The teen approaches the doorway and begins to lean around the entrance, poking his head into the space of the room.

"Ash," Alice squeaks. "Please be careful."

He looks back at his girlfriend, managing to flash a half hearted smile. Ashford takes a deep breath, stepping into the bedroom and glancing around for the cause of the crashes. As his left foot steps over the broken ceramic vase, he notices the breeze whipping curtains of the open window.

"I can't find any reason for this to have crashed!" Ashford calls to Alice.

A moment passes, silence from the other room. Ashford begins to wander through the room, glancing behind dressers and under the bed. As he goes to open the closet he shouts again, "Babe, if you're freaked you can come in here."

More silence as he slowly pries open the sticking doors, Ashford begins to wonder why she has yet to respond to either of his statements. He walks back towards the room they had been lying in, passing through the doorway and expecting to find Alice in her original position on the mattress.

Rather than his girlfriend's presence, the room is eerily empty and hosts a staleness in the air that gives the illusion of a disappearance.