Ghosts

Chapter 14

One step at a time. At the top of the stairs, the bedroom door, off to the right of the landing, was cracked open. From the crack, a light, strangely electric blue, flickered and seemed to have life of its own. The bumping and scraping had stopped, and then the light also seemed to become still. With her mouth sandpaper dry, sweat beading uncomfortably down the small of her back, she held her breath, willing lead like legs to climb higher. Five steps to go, and beneath her weight, one creaked. Above her the light flickered slightly, then became still again. It was as if something was waiting for her. Should she call out? Should she ask, 'Uncle Ben, is that you? Aunt Daphne? It's only me. Violet.' Instead she took another step. The light, that blue, living light, reminded her of something. Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights. The way it had moved, and waved; several shades of light blue. It was as if a tiny amount had broken away and found itself in the bedroom of this house. The last few steps, afraid to breathe, and she was standing on top of the landing, staring at the crack in the doorway. Something waited for her, something knew she had climbed the stairs and that something was just the other side of that door. Interminable seconds passed by and Violet tried to summon up courage from somewhere. She found that hard work. She was now that girl, the pretty cheerleader who fancied the football jock, whose classmates had been picked off one at a time and left naked in pools of blood, and the audience were on the edge of their seats, part of them willing her to tiptoe back down the stairs and escape, the vindictive side of them wishing her inside, to be brutally hacked to death, young ripe breasts exposed, a dark shadowy figure escaping to continue his killing spree. The moron girl should have stayed by the front door and called the cops. Shit. Violet Shaydes should have called the cops. Her phone was right there in her pocket. What had she been thinking? What an idiot! Too late now. The nearest police were a fifteen minute drive away. Whatever lurked behind that door, wouldn't hang around fifteen minutes. She had seen the films. The cop would kick open the door, crouch low and with the Magnum revolver ready for action, would yell, 'Freeze, creep.' Her revolver was a cheap and nasty torch that had to be taped up at the end to stop the batteries falling out. She kicked open the door. 'Hello, Violet. What brings you here this time of night?' 'Aunt Daphne?' She was the light. In the unlit bedroom, a blue energy emitted from her, filling the room with its strange unearthly glow. Then the light faded. 'Aunt Daphne, don't...' Too late. She had gone. Violet was alone in the room, trying to let her heartbeat return to something like normal. She was almost there, when the torch died on her, plunging her into almost total darkness. The only light came from the moonlight, through the un-curtained window. She went over to it, and fiddled with the torch to no avail. Another light caught her eye. Across the lane, Mrs Friar was staring at her. There was movement, and then that light went out. Mrs Friar had gone.