In collaboration with Eddison C. (13 years old)
John and Henry were twins and my best friends. Neither of them believed in ghosts. They thought it was just people in ethereal forms and maintained that stance until the adventure we had at an abandoned mansion standing on top of Hogmaede Hill last week.
It was a full moon and the wind howled like ghouls in the silent graveyard that night. The three of us ventured out with torches in our hands. Before long, we were standing at the gates of the deserted building.
Beaming widely, the twins were champing at the bit to prove that ghosts didn’t exist. I, on the other hand was having cold feet. My palms were sweating and my knees were knocking together. Chickening out was a good idea but I bit down on my tongue. The twins would probably call me a scaredy cat for the rest of my life which didn’t sit well with me.
“Come on! Don’t be a wimp! Let’s go inside,” Henry taunted, giving me a shove from behind.
John pushed the gate and it swung open with a grating creak that was unbearably loud in the eerie silence of the night. He sauntered in first. Struggling to put up a brave facade, I quickly followed while Henry brought up the rear, whistling loud enough to wake up the sleeping dead.
Pale tombstones lined the sidewalk leading up to the front porch. A loud hoot from an owl startled us so badly that we stopped dead in our tracks. Henry peered apprehensively into the darkness. “Didn’t they say when an owl hoot, someone is going to die?” he whispered.
“Not feeling so lion-hearted, are you now?” I mocked gleefully.
We could hear the clock chiming 12 times to announce midnight when we reached the main doorway. It was slightly ajar and it swung open easily as John nudged it with his foot.
A bolt of lightning flashed in the night sky, illuminating the dark interior. Deafening claps of thunder swiftly followed, making us jump. The twins looked wildly at each other while I could hear my heart pounding. The biting wind was blowing right through our bones so we crossed the threshold hurriedly.
A sharp, musty smell greeted us, triggering a rapid succession of sneezes from me. We cast our torch lights around the room. It was immense and had two staircases leading to the upper floors. A small creature scurried across the dirty floor and large masses of cobwebs covered every corner of the walls. It appeared that the place had been abandoned for a long time.
Another flash of lightning lit up the room. A white figure was floating down the stairs, causing chills to run down my spine. I headed for the doorway but quickly realised that it was sealed with an invisible layer of shield. I had never encountered the like.
“We are done for!” cried John as he stared nervously at the floating figure which was moving towards us. He was rooted to the spot.
“What are you waiting for? Run!” I screeched.
We ran up the other stairwell and planned to lock ourselves in one of the rooms until morning. Ghosts were supposed to be afraid of daylight, weren’t they?
Seeing an open door to our left, we hastily dashed into the doorway, slammed the door shut, turned the key and simultaneously let out three enormous sighs of relief. It didn’t take us long to be cognisant of the fact that we had erred, again. A congress of floating beings was already assembled there, staring curiously at us.
Quick as lightning, they crowded around us. “I am doomed!” was my last coherent thought as I surrendered to the inevitable.