Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34279639-20180424162349

My best friend, Charlie, was never big on the terrors that come with Halloween night. She hated the dark, horror films, and especially haunted houses. Me? I was all for it. She was my only friend. To go alone wouldn't be any fun. So, on the night of October 31st, 2014, I begged her to come with me to the old house around the corner. Stories circled our small town of tragic happenings in that house, of ghosts, and of lost little children inside-- especially on Halloween. The decrepit building had been abandoned for so many years that no one even knew the original story about why it was abandoned in the first place. These stories had always fascinated me and, even though I didn't believe them, exploring the place on this night above all others seemed to give me those fear-induced jitters. I liked the feeling of them. They gave me a rush unlike anything else.

It took some convincing and her whining the whole way, but it was that or a haunted house outside of town where people actually tried to scare you out of your wits. I told her that inside this house was pure emptiness, filled only by stories that kids who probably had nothing better to do with their lives made up. It had to be, right? Just some harmless stories told for the childish uneasiness that made you stare at the shattered windows whenever you passed it, just to see if you could catch a glimpse of something inside even though you knew you wouldn't. Stories told just to make your curiosity pique over what the house may contain within its walls. And Charlie, being the good friend she was, decided to allow me the fun of an adventure. She went with me despite her fear.

Inside was only old furniture, dust, and pure disappointment. There was nothing of interest; it was a simple, old home. In fact, were it not for the endless mounds of dust and the fact that it was falling apart, it might've been quite beautiful. We could barely make each other's features in the darkness. Our surroundings were illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the broken windows. I separated from her while she waited in the foyer because she was afraid, no doubt allowing all the spooky tales of this place to run through her mind. I explored on my own, secretly comforted by her presence nearby. Everything seemed to make you a little jumpier in abandoned places like these.

After exploring the rooms and finding nothing interesting at all, I rounded the corner into the hallway. I ran smack into a warm and semi-squishy thing. A person. Fear bubbled inside of me as we both let out a shriek. Though, at the sound of Charlie's laugh after she had realized it was me, I let out a chuckle of my own.

"So much for finding adventure, huh?" Charlie asked, and I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. Her hand found mine in the darkness even so. "I've looked through every room," I told her, my voice laced with pure disappointment.

But then a door in the hallway where we stood caught my eye. I had disregarded it as a closet at first. Realizing that it was different from every other door in the house, I grabbed the knob and slowly creaked it open to reveal the darkness beyond it. Charlie whimpered softly, her hopes of being able to leave the house early being crushed almost as much as my hand was as she squeezed it. I only smirked and turned on my phone's flashlight, making my way down the illuminated wooden stairs into the pitch black basement. Charlie followed me either out of fear to leave me, or fear of being alone on the first floor. Or maybe it was both.

At the bottom, something thin and cold brushed over my face. I shined my flashlight on it and saw that it was a silver chain to the light bulb directly above us. I pulled it and the light bulb surprisingly came to life, dimly lighting up the dust-laden room. I was shocked that it actually worked. As I took it all in, I came to the conclusion that everything looked brown. She stood by the base of the stairs while I took several steps away to look around. Given that we now had light, I turned the flashlight off and slipped my phone back into my pocket. That was my first mistake.

I looked back at her with a sly grin, about to explain how this wasn't so bad and was, in fact, boring, when I noticed her staring at her reflection in the glass of the door that led outside from the basement. She was stark white, lips parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn't. I opened my mouth to speak just as the dirty light bulb busted with a loud 'POP'. It was pitch black now. No shadows. No silhouettes. Just the voice of my friend. She called out my name in a soft, yet urgent, little cry. I knew that we had to go. Now. And so I grabbed my phone from my pocket, frantically pressing he button with shaking hands to get my flashlight back on. The screen didn't illuminate. I had made sure to charge it fully before we left, and now it was dead, although I had used it just moments before. I gave up on it and trusted my memory of where I stood instead. The feeling that time was steadily running out was pressing on me so hard that my body began to feel heavy, and the only sound that broke through the air that now seemed both thick and hot was our quickened breathing.

I tripped over the clutter as I rushed to what I thought was the base of the stairs where she had been standing. I reached out for her in the dark, hoping my memory of where she stood served me right. I found her clammy hand and locked our fingers together before fumbling for the door knob of the one she had stared at just moments ago. It wouldn't even twist. I tried for only a few more seconds before giving up; it wasn't going to budge and I was growing more terrified by the second.

I don't even remember clambering up the steps and dragging her with me. Adrenaline had taken over and didn't let me stop until we were out of that house and in the crisp autumn air. Relief washed over me and I could breathe again. I was grateful for the little amount of light the moon gave off as I let out an exasperated chuckle at our terror over an old light bulb. She didn't move from where she stood behind me, and I was just catching my breath. I squeezed her hand that I still had tightly clasped in my own. But my best friend, my Charlie, did not laugh. As I turned to look at her, my scream caught in my throat. Nothing came out.

The hand I was holding was not hers. 