Eliminating the Impossible
Prologue: The Old House
The door of the house creaked open slowly and a young, frightened face peeked in. This was the face of 16 year old Eric Dawson. He glanced around at the old, darkened ruin of what had once been a grand, old mansion and grinned, looking behind him.
"Come on. It's safe! Let's go!" he called behind him, pushing open the creaking door, which was in serious danger of falling off its hinges and stepped into the hallway.
A few seconds later, another young face poked through the door, a lot more apprehensive than the other. She cautiously stepped in behind Eric, who was already going up the main stairs to the second floor.
"Eric!" she whispered, a few steps behind him. "Can't we just go home? This place could come down at any minute!"
As if to reinforce her point, a stair creaked as Eric placed his foot on it and he stopped, looking back at the girl behind him.
"You didn't have to come at all, Kirsty. Now, shut up or leave." he hissed back, before turning back and carrying on up the stairs. Kirsty, hurt at his outburst, stood still for a while, before continuing up the stairs behind him.
They reached the second floor and gazed in wonder at all the art on the walls, all of the intricate patterns painted on the ceiling, now caked in dust and mould.
"This place must have been amazing once." said Eric, breathless as he imagined all sorts of people walking up and down these halls.
As he was casting his gaze, his eyes fell on a door at the end of the hallway. It was like all of the other doors on the second floor, but a slight, green glow was emanating from under it. His eyes widened with curiosity and he took a step towards it.
"Don't!" Kirsty cried, her breath becoming ragged and panicked. She wanted to go home, she wanted to leave.
Eric chose to ignore her completely this time and took another step towards the door. And another. And another. Until he reached the door. Kirsty stayed rooting to the spot, terrified and yet unable to move.
She watched as Eric turned the knob on the door and slowly entered. And then silence. Nothing.
"Eric?" she said, softly at first. Nothing. Then she called a little louder, "Eric?" And then she screamed his name, her voice cracking a little, "ERIC!?"
And then came his scream. And Kirsty sprinted down the stairs and out the front door, down the road. Tears streamed down her face but she couldn't go back. Not now. Not ever.
And at the window, it stood, watching her. Staring down at the little girl running away.
The Angel watched.