The Haunted House (pt. 7)

As I was sinking into the mass of dark fears that I had begun to create, I made my way back to the kitchen and started slowly opening drawers, trying to remain silent while fighting against their tendency to squeak, until I found a large knife that gave me the slightest hint of assurance for the next endeavor.  My intention was to make a circuit through the house looking for whomever might be lurking, ideally before they knew I was there.  Thinking  back now I wonder why it was that I did not simply flee.  Perhaps I did not really believe the ideas running through my mind as thoroughly as I seemed to feel them.

It was a slow movement through the rooms that lead to nothing.  Once I had finished I went back again and started opening closet doors to be sure that there was nothing hidden from me.  There wasn't.

That left one last place to be searched, the loft. It was somewhat of a precarious ascent with steep steps of a ladder-like construction securely fastened between the floors, especially difficult when one holds a knife and is ready to jump from their own skin.  I took it very cautiously, with my eyes always riveted to the spot at the top of the flight, for if there was to be trouble it would come at me from there.

When my head had reached the level of the upper floor I slowed even more, rising until my eyes were above and I could see what was before me.  Again there was no movement, no bodies, nothing. There remained the small bathroom to the back of the room but I made sure to stand a long time at the top of the steps and wait for a sound.  When nothing came I moved to the doorway of the bathroom and froze.  Suddenly ahead of me was a figure in the dim light standing and looking back at me.

I began to scream when I realized that it was a perfect replication of the weird picture taken back at the beach!