The sound of the pouring downpour grew more and more inaudible as the girl moved down the hallway. Her suit didn't cover her legs; instead, she had added bandages that wrapped around her thighs and part of her feet, but not her toes. Because of this, she could feel the cold floor beneath her feet with every step-the texture of that old cabin wood.
Every two or four steps, the wooden floor creaked. The sound wasn't loud, but it was enough to be heard in the nearby rooms.
"Don't you think we should go to the second floor?" a voice asked. GhostFreak stopped in her tracks and looked back at darkness across from her, the room she had left behind-a bloody scene.
"Those things came from there, right? Maybe it'd be good to check," the voice said. GhostFreak only observed her surroundings in silence. Slowly, she took a few steps toward a wall with a photograph hanging on it, the wood slowly creaking on the last step.
Her fingers barely brushed the surface of the photo. Dust clung to the corners, and the frame had a crack or two. The image itself was barely discernible: three humanoid figures-one small, one of medium height, and one taller. You could just make out the hands of the two taller figures resting on the shoulders of the smallest one. But whether because of the house's properties, which was still a mystery to GhostFreak, or because of the photo's age, the figures' faces were erased, they seemed as if they where scratched by time.
"Corneria? You heard what I said, right?" the voice asked. GhostFreak pulled her gaze away from the photo and looked back down the hallway she had come from.
She returned along that hallway, the wood creaking every fourth step. After that attack, GhostFreak was alert to any sound, any change in the air's temperature, or any strange movement.
When she returned to the room she'd been in, it was indeed still the living room-old, dusty furniture and an ancient, dirty smell. However, the bodies of the creatures she had killed and the blood that had covered the floor were gone. And just as had happened when she explored the kitchen and returned, the photos and some furniture were slightly different: the lamps were a different model but from the same year, the rugs had a different design-but everything was exactly where she had left it last time.
GhostFreak turned around, looking at the stairs that led up to the second floor-the place those creatures had come from. The voice was right. GhostFreak should at least investigate what was on the second floor. The attic? More rooms? What was hiding there?
Her gaze was lost in the darkness beyond the top of the stairs-a black void where the attic doors should be, but nothing could be seen, only darkness.
GhostFreak turned and walked slowly toward the stairs. The wood creaked louder when she stepped onto the first stair. More alert than ever, she placed one foot ahead of the other, and with each step she drew closer to that darkness at the top.
GhostFreak kept walking, climbing one step after another, more alert than usual. She knew well that if those things had come from whatever was up there, nothing good awaited her. She climbed, and climbed, and climbed-step after step.
"Um... Corneria?" the voice asked as GhostFreak continued upward. "Exactly how long have we been climbing?"
A final creak of old wood sounded as GhostFreak took her last step. She had been climbing those stairs for several minutes, and the dark void didn't seem any closer. On the contrary, she could swear it looked farther away than when she'd first seen it.
After standing still for a few seconds without moving a muscle, the wood began creaking rapidly. GhostFreak was running toward the top, her cape lifting slightly from the speed of her steps. But no matter how fast she ran, the darkness at the top receded even more. In her vision, it seemed as if more stairs emerged from that darkness-as though she were climbing an escalator that never led anywhere.
GhostFreak stopped again, fixing her gaze on the dark void. The rain outside was no longer audible-only absolute silence. Just her, and the darkness.
The silence was broken by the sound of chains clashing. GhostFreak drew her iconic scythes, bound to chains of metallic scarlet. The chains had a rusted texture; it was clear they had once been a bright red, worn down over time. The same wear showed on the scythes, which, despite everything, had not lost their edge.
"What are you thinking, Corneria?" the voice asked. GhostFreak grasped the chain and began to spin the scythe slowly through the air, picking up speed with each second. The chains were the only sound to be heard.
After repeating the motion several times, she hurled it in a single throw. The sound of old wood breaking echoed-the scythe had embedded itself in whatever lay beyond the darkness. Judging by the sound, it had the same texture as the stairs.
Using the lodged scythe as an anchor, Corneria pulled on the chain to propel herself into the darkness. Everything happened fast-so fast she couldn't understand what her hands and feet felt when she landed again.
The same cracked, aged texture. The same steps. And the same dark void at the end. GhostFreak didn't understand how, or why, she couldn't advance-but she did understand that she was only wasting time trying to see what lay beyond that darkness.
Once again, the wood creaked as GhostFreak returned to the living room. Surprisingly, it took almost no time to descend the stairs she had climbed. Despite how long it had taken to get up there, it felt like only seconds to return to the living room-and again, the same phenomenon: different decorations and furniture, but in the same places.
GhostFreak returned to the hallways, walking without stopping. She had already explored the living room, the kitchen, and those stairs. The house was clearly being controlled-or perhaps it was conscious? She had never seen a case like this in her time as GhostFreak.
The hallways had cracked walls, photos with erased faces, and the ceiling bore a few cobwebs in the corners. The hallway was moderately long, but unlike the stairs, she could notice her progress, as even in the darkness she was able to make out a wall at the very end a wall with a door.
The creaking stopped. Once almost reaching the end of the hallway, GhostFreak contemplated the door. It was set into a large white wall. Unlike the rest of the house, the wall was unblemished-clean, pristine, a pure white. The door was in the same condition: a well-kept bronze handle and polished mahogany wood, its color intact.
But the door was irregular. It was small compared to the wall it was set in, and for GhostFreak the strangest thing was its position. Normally, doors are placed symmetrically-centered or near corners with space for balance.
This door, however, was shifted far to the left, leaving almost no space between it and the corner. "Corneria..." the voice said. GhostFreak kept moving, slowly creaking the wood beneath her with one last careful step, standing face to face with the door. Again- a cutting silence.
GhostFreak slowly raised her hand and felt the bronze handle. It was cold and smooth. She turned it, and the sound of the door opening echoed softly.
The noise stopped. GhostFreak didn't move a muscle. "Oook..." the voice murmured. On the other side of the door, neither the voice that followed GhostFreak nor Corneria herself could fully understand what they were seeing. By the arrangement of the furniture and decorations, it seemed like the same living room-the one she'd entered through-only now the dust, cobwebs, cracked walls, were nowhere to be seen, everything looked new. Clean. As if someone still lived there.
GhostFreak's eyes carefully analyzed the surroundings before she even set foot inside. The colors of the furniture, the wood, the decorations-all were in good condition. Even rhe furniture's colors were now visible, being of a dark navy blue, same as the walls, the floor still retained it's natural color from it's wood. From afar, she could see the hallway; the walls and materials throughout the house retained their color and integrity. But there was a difference: there were no photos on the walls or in the living room.
GhostFreak decided to advance. The wood no longer creaked; her footsteps were barely audible, especially with her bare feet.
Once inside, GhostFreak closed the door, every movement slow and calculated. When she shut it, she blinked. Behind her was only a wall-the same white wall. No trace of the door.
GhostFreak understood that the only thing she could do now was keep moving. As when she first entered the house, she decided to head toward the kitchen.
When she arrived, she noticed the kitchen opened into another room at the back. Everything was dark-no hint of light. There were no windows nearby, and though there were bulbs on the ceiling, she couldn't see any switches. The darkness concealed whether the room had an end at all; to the sides and toward the back, GhostFreak could sense the room's vastness.
She weighed her options while staring into the dark room. Sudeenly, her muscles tensed. "You heard it too, right?" the voice said. GhostFreak left the kitchen. Back in the living room, a static sound could be heard from the far end-a beaming white light, a screen?
GhostFreak approached. Indeed, an old television was on, it was square and cubical, too bulky compared to modern televisions, this one was maybe from around the 80's, it was sitting atop a table against the wall. There was no channel-only static and the loud noise it produced. GhostFreak watched it for a few seconds, then turned left, toward the hallway she had seen before... it looked deeper now.
It was dark. Only the blinding light of the static from the old television could be seen, and its noise was all that could be heard. Yet, within the darkness, looking down the hallway, GhostFreak could make out doors-she counted four. She wasn't sure if there were more, hidden by the darkness, but given everything she'd seen, she wouldn't rule it out.
She fixed her gaze on one of those doors. In the immense darkness and the constant static in her ears, she noticed that the first door on the left was slightly open. She hadn't gone there before when she entered, there hadn't been any door there.
Corneria slowly and cautiously moved closer to the door, shaping her awareness of the surroundings within the darkness. Though she was moving away from the living room, she could swear the static was growing louder, reaching unsettling levels, as if she were now hearing it inside her head.
GhostFreak slowly opened the door. The wood creaked, and she didn't move a muscle. The static flooded her-an intense, disturbing hum, the only thing in her ears, in her head. But in her eyes... was what lay inside the room. Even in the darkness, she could make out what she was seeing. The first thing she saw were eyes-huge eyes, filled with anguish that sent chills through her soul. The eyebrows completed that unsettling expression of distress.
Though she was trapped in that gaze for a few seconds, the figure didn't move. It did nothing-just stared at her. From the shadows, Corneria could make out more details: it was a female figure, seated in a mahogany rocking chair. The woman wore a white dress, dirty and dusty, long enough to cover her feet. Her hair was messy and straight, reaching her ankles. Her eyes were abnormally large, fixed in that anguished stare. She didn't blink. She didn't speak or move.
Though she couldn't see every detail clearly, Corneria couldn't tell whether the woman had lips-or even a mouth at all. She could see the silhouette of a sharp, long nose, but there were no visible lips.
Looking around the room, it was tiny-four walls, the woman and the rocking chair in the center, and nothing else. GhostFreak and the woman stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Corneria was lost in that gaze, those enormous eyes bearing the expression that something very bad was about to happen.
"Cor... Corneria? You're not going to... you know..." the voice said. GhostFreak placed one hand behind her back, beneath her cape. The sound of chains being grasped echoed-she was ready to fight. Still, the woman didn't move or blink. She only kept staring.
Despite the gaze, GhostFreak felt no hostility coming from the woman. Time passed-even with her violent intentions made clear, the woman did nothing. If she wanted a fight, she would have attacked the moment GhostFreak froze in her stare.
GhostFreak removed her hand from her weapon and approached the woman, kneeling to bring herself face to face.
"Were you the one who called me?" GhostFreak asked. The woman only continued to stare at her.
"Do you know what happened here? What is this place?" GhostFreak asked. The woman didn't respond.
A strange noise came from the living room-something like laughter or a giggle. Judging by its tone and pitch, it sounded like a child. Hearing it, GhostFreak stood and moved toward the door. Even through the cloth of the bandages on her arms, she could feel the terrible cold of hands gripping her wrist.
GhostFreak turned. She could feel the woman breathing against her face. That anguished stare was now inches away, her eyes far larger up close. The woman shook her head desperately in denial, pulling GhostFreak back so she wouldn't leave.
In any other situation, Corneria would have drawn her weapon and beheaded the spirit. But this was different. The intent wasn't violent-it was desperate. The grip was strong but not aggressive, and in her eyes she could see desperation, anguish, and worry. The spirit clearly didn't want her to leave.
Corneria heard the static again from the living room. The bedroom door was barely open, and in the distance the static's light was the only thing illuminating the room.
The static stopped, and the white light shifted into a mix of different colors. What could be heard wasn't entirely clear, but it sounded like a cheerful melody-a choir singing happily, sometimes interrupted by static.
Corneria peered through the narrow opening of the door. The only light in the living room-the television-flickered as the cheerful chanting took on a more ethereal, divine tone. The instruments were beginning to get out of sync, static interrupting every four seconds, while a new strange sound began to emerge from the living room.
It sounded like something viscous being slowly dropped onto the floor. The static and chanting grew sharper and louder, until GhostFreak could finally understand the words of the choir in its eerie song:
"GOD IS COMING."
The viscous sound was followed by a small thud, as if something had fallen to the floor, then several similar sounds. Then came the sounds of small footsteps-some fading toward the kitchen, others seeming to approach. Corneria positioned herself behind the door, gripping her weapon, ready to strike-but the footsteps passed by.
She heard several doors opening outside. The choir continued, intense and off-key, repeating the same message:
"GOD IS COMING."
Seeing the footsteps pass, Corneria slowly peeked through the door's opening, hearing that viscous sound again-followed by a heavy impact, like an animal hitting the floor.
Heavy footsteps approached, patterned-one heavy step after another. Whatever was out there was enormous. The steps drew closer to the hallway. The woman tightened her grip on GhostFreak's wrist, but Corneria kept watching.
At the corner, turning into the living room, she saw it. It was made of a blackness identical to the darkness around it. She could only see half its face: one huge white eye, its pupil so small at the center she barely noticed it. But what stood out was half its mouth-it extended beyond its jaw and the oval structure of its head. The mouth was extremely wide, seeming sad, its lips closed and turned downward at the corners. But the most horrifying thing-its mouth was upside down. Its entire head was upside down. Its expression of sadness... was actually a smile.