The mansion was alive with Christmas cheer. Laughter echoed from the dining hall, children squealed while running in circles, and the soft clatter of dishes mixed with the crackling of the fireplace. The smell of pine and cinnamon filled the air, mingling with the faint chill that never seemed to leave the Harper mansion.
Emma sat close to the window, watching the snow drift lazily past the frost-covered panes. The cold glass pressed against her palms, grounding her. Despite the merriment around her, a tight knot of unease sat heavy in her chest.
"Hey, besty." Audrey's voice pulled Emma from her thoughts. She slid onto the sofa beside her, holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "Happy Christmas Eve."
Emma forced a smile. "Happy Christmas Eve."
Audrey uncorked the bottle, pouring the deep red liquid into the glasses. "Tomorrow's the 25th. What's the plan?" She handed one glass to Emma, sitting close enough for the warmth of her presence to be comforting.
Emma's hand hovered over the glass, fingers curling around the stem. Her mind spun. Tomorrow… Christmas Day. If only they could survive it. Her chest tightened. The shadows, the whispers, the missing objects—all of it pointed to something waiting, something patient and intelligent.
Audrey noticed the hesitation. "Emma… you've been acting weird all day. Calm, but… your calm is scary. What's going on?"
Emma hesitated, staring at the snow. The glass trembled in her hand. Finally, she let it out, the words spilling in a rush. "Audrey… it's the house. Something is here. I've seen… things. Objects moving on their own, shadows that shouldn't exist, whispers… and the diary—it's from my great-grandmother. It talks about a family curse. There's something in this house, and… I'm the only one who sees it."
Audrey blinked, silent for a moment, her head tilting as she processed the confession. Then, to Emma's surprise, she laughed. A genuine, breathy laugh that made Emma's chest tighten even more.
"You're serious?" Audrey said, still chuckling. "Emma, you're telling me your Christmas is like a horror movie?"
Emma nodded, too anxious to hide the fear trembling through her voice. "I'm serious, Audrey. The diary… it warns about the first to wander, about a Christmas surprise… I don't know what will happen, but something is coming. I can feel it."
Audrey wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. "This is amazing!" she exclaimed. "You've got to tell Mark. He'll love this."
Emma's eyes widened. "Wait—no! Audrey, it's not—"
But it was too late. Audrey already had her phone out, dialing her boyfriend. "Mark! You need to hear this. My best friend has a horror story straight out of a haunted house. Come quick!"
Emma groaned softly, leaning back, trying to make herself small. She had hoped to keep the dread contained, at least for a little while.
A moment later, Mark appeared, brushing snow from his shoulders, giving Audrey a quick kiss before turning to Emma. "So… what's this horror story you've been telling my girlfriend?" His tone was light, teasing.
Emma's stomach twisted. She hissed quietly, stepping back from him. Her mind was far from relaxed. "It's… complicated," she muttered. "Really complicated."
Mark tilted his head, eyes curious. "Come on, I love a good story. You're not going to scare me, are you?"
Emma shook her head sharply. "No, you don't understand. It's… it's real. And it's not funny."
Audrey laughed again, nudging Emma lightly. "Mark, come on! She's serious, but it's hilarious to hear her freak out. You've got to hear this."
Emma gritted her teeth, taking a sip of wine to steady her nerves. She wanted to explain everything—the diary, the shadows, the whispers, the missing objects—but even speaking the words made the house feel colder, heavier. Her hands shook slightly as she held the glass.
Mark leaned closer, peering at her expectantly. "Seriously, what's happening? Audrey made it sound like a haunted house adventure."
Emma swallowed. She wanted to tell him, to make someone else understand. But as she opened her mouth, a faint creak echoed from the hallway behind them. Her eyes darted toward the shadows flickering in the corners. Even in the cheerful chaos of the party, she felt the presence, subtle yet unmistakable, brushing against the edges of her vision.
She hissed again, backing toward the window. "I… I can't explain everything. But it's not a game, Mark. The house—there's something in the house. And it's not done yet. I don't know what the surprise is, but I can feel it coming. Tomorrow…"
Audrey leaned closer, still laughing softly, brushing Emma's arm with a comforting hand. "Oh, Emma, you always have the wildest imagination. But you're too calm about it all. I get it now—you're freaking out inside while smiling outside."
Emma nodded slowly. "Exactly. That's why I can't just sit here and pretend everything's normal. I… I have to watch, to prepare. I don't know if anyone else can see it, but I feel it."
Audrey shook her head, still giggling. "Mark! Come here. You need to hear this horror story. Emma's the bravest scaredy-cat I know!"
Mark chuckled, giving Audrey a playful squeeze before turning to Emma. "So… best friend, scaredy-cat… you've got me curious. What's the movie-level horror you're talking about?"
Emma hissed one last time, shaking her head. "Not now. I… I need a minute." She stood abruptly, moving away from the warmth of the sofa. Her gaze drifted back to the snow outside, the flakes swirling against the dark night. The cheerful chaos behind her—laughter, clinking glasses, children playing—felt surreal against the tight coil of fear in her chest.
Audrey called after her, still laughing lightly, "You can't run from this, Emma! Besties tell everything! Come back here!"
Emma's lips pressed into a thin line. She sank onto the window seat, staring at the swirling snow. Her mind raced with warnings from the diary, echoes of whispers, the inexplicable cold drafts, and the objects that had vanished only to reappear in impossible places.
Her chest tightened as a shadow shifted in the corner, subtle but deliberate. She alone noticed it, alone felt the tension radiating from the house itself.
Tomorrow, she realized, would be the real test. And she feared that by sunrise, nothing would be the same.