Haunting at Howard Hill

As another creepy feeling made its way up my spine, Alex stood up with a start and whispered, “Did you hear that?” Oh no, not something else! I want my nice safe home. I want my Daddy. I shook my head. “No,” I whispered back. “What did you hear?” “I thought I heard someone downstairs. Listen.” He leaned toward the door, straining to hear, his eyes growing larger with fear. Then I heard it too—footsteps. Good Lord, they were coming up the stairs! My hands shook so violently that Grandfather’s note threatened to disintegrate from the vibrations. “We’re trapped,” Alex mouthed, and pushed me behind him so he could face whoever or whatever was headed our way. It was then that I recalled seeing something out of the corner of my eye when I glanced out the front windows a moment ago. Oh no, I moaned to myself, not another ghost. I cringed in terror behind my dear, protective brother. We waited in tense silence, listening as the footsteps sounded in the upstairs hall, as though going from door to door. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the door to this room must be next. I held my breath. I think Alex stopped breathing before I did. Then we saw it—the doorknob turning, one way then the other. Why didn’t we think to lock the door behind us? Too late now! The door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a tall figure outlined in the doorway. The shadows from the dim light of the quickly waning day made the face stark and, I have to admit it, quite scary. “Melissa? Alex?” Dear God, it knows our names! Cringing down even further behind Alex, my knees started to give way. I could feel the blood drain from my head. Blackness overtook me. Then there was nothing.