sábado, 12 de septiembre de 2015

The Haunting of the Gillespie House


The night was cold and still. The curtains were too thin to block out the moonlight, which stretched over the carpet in quivering dabs and strange shapes from where it managed to worm its way through the forest’s boughs. A sliver of the light fell over the sleeping girl’s face, making her squirm to avoid it. She rolled over and opened her eyes. The dolls and stuffed animals spread about the room watched her with plastic eyes, their comforting influence dissipated in the cold blue light of night-time. The girl sat up and pushed her hair out of her face. She thought she’d heard the voices through her dreams; they were becoming clearer, though, almost clear enough to understand. “Hello?” She kept her voice quiet so she wouldn’t disturb her parents as they slept in their room down the hallway. “Is that you, little friends?” There, so faint that she almost could have imagined it, was the soft scratching noise that accompanied the voice. The girl slid her feet off the bed, shivering in the cold air but too entranced to search for her dressing gown. Her toes dug into the carpet as she circled her bed, trying to find the source of the noise. It seemed to come from all around her, below her feet and above her head. The curtains fluttered as the wind picked up, and the old house groaned under the weight of its years. “Hello, little friends?” she repeated. The voices answered her, urging her to come to them. She closed her eyes and stretched out her hands, rotating in a slow circle, listening to the sounds. They seemed to fade and strengthen, depending on the direction she faced. She stopped turning when they were at their loudest, and took a hesitant step forward. The voices rose in volume and urgency as she moved closer, and the girl could feel her fingers shaking as she reached for her invisible companions. They had never been so clear before. The voices were slowly merging, their echoes and mutters colliding into a single voice. As the girl’s fingers tapped against her bedroom wall, she finally understood them. “Yes,” she said, breathless, her heart fluttering like a frantic trapped bird. “Yes, I’ll help you, little friends.”

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