A.N/ Hey everyone, it's meeeeeeee I've been working on this since December, and I'm a little nervous on putting it up but... Nhn.
I got inspired to do this during August, and watching the show "A Haunting" Only increased my urge to create it. Some things might be a little irrelevant, but I did my best to do some good research. It was kinda difficult, but eh. What in life isn't?
So... Please enjoy this... fanfic. If you can.
Shayra
It is a dark and rainy night, much like most nights when strange goings-on occur; the sky is shrouded with thick, black clouds, rain tumbling from them with minor intensity. Grass is shimmering slick from the shower, lights of old-fashioned street lamps casting shadows and lights onto a Victorian Mansion nearby. Aside from the Freestar ford making its way up the cobblestone driveway; it looked like a scene from the eighteen hundreds.
The doors of said minivan opened up automatically, a team of men making their way out of it, some with equipment, others who seemed to have a sort of 'holy' aura towards them. With sober, but firm postures, they make their way up to the glossy, mahogany doors. The tall, almost intimidating building looms over them gloomily, but it doesn't deter a man in a black suit from reaching out to a rose-shaped door knocker. Before he could grab it, the door creaks open in a low, tone which quickly grows into a high squeak. The party doesn't back away, though, but enters with confidence.
"Good evening, friend. We have come to speak with you again." A man with wispy, grey hair called out in a friendly voice. His tone most certainly didn't suit the atmosphere around them; the foyer is washed in a cold blue tone from the weather outside. "We wish to talk with you today."
The room responds with a long silence, aside from the rain knocking on the windows.
Any normal man would soon feel foolish and turn away. But soon, the sound of paper ripping is heard in the room. The group of men turn their attention towards a nearby wall. Words were being carved into the wallpaper:
Talk? What is there to talk about, the weather?
The old man, who is the owner of the house, laughs lightly in response. "Although it's rather nice out tonight," A few younger men with equipment scowl at this, "We have come to talk to you about your current existence. We want to help you."
Help? No one can help me… Unbeknownst to the party, pictures hanging on the walls unhook themselves from the walls. None of them seem to notice.
"Of course we can, friend!" The old man cried optimistically. One of the men with an EMF detector nudges him, "Um, sir—"
"Don't interrupt me." He mutters firmly to the other before going back to his conversation. "Show yourself to us, and we can help you!"
None of you are worthy to see me unless you can win my game.
"….Game?" A black suited man frowns. "What sort of game….?"
"Would someone please listen to me?" The man with the EMF detector frowns.
"It isn't important." The 'leader' of the pack growls in response to the EMF detector.
"But—"
"No. Now tell us, R—my friend, what are we playing?"
…Frisbee.
"THE EMF METER'S AT TEN, YOU FOOLS!" the man cries, but it is too late. The pictures that are hovering in mid-air at the moment flip horizontally and start to spin.
"If you won't listen to reason, fine!" The owner of the house shouts, "In the name of our Lord and Savoir, we command you to leave this house!"
Upon the words, the pictures clatter to the ground, some of the glass crackling a little upon the impact. A sigh seemed to be removed from the group, that is, until the EMF detector glances down at the device.
"….Its still at ten." His voice is barely over a whisper.
Only seconds after the words were uttered, the two doors of the mansion slam open. The wall where messages were previously being written is being scratched up furiously with illegible scribbles which look vaguely like symbols. The room gains a sudden chill.
A man holding a video camera stumbles back quickly in horror. "I-I'm leavin'," He utters quickly, fleeing out through the open doors. One by one, the people run from the scene. Finally, the man with wispy hair follows out. "We'll be back," He shouts into the house once he is outside. The mansion responds by slamming the doors shut tight.
"'At was too close," The camera man puffs, "I'm not doin' this no more."
"Same here. I'm off this case." The EMF detector murmurs. One by one, the group agrees.
"What is making you all so terrified?! I'm sure you've dealt with worse!" The owner fumes. The camera man steps up and holds out his camera. "Take a look."
As the man views the film, his eyes hold mostly boredom. When the messages were appearing on the wall, a cloaked figure was standing in front of them, writing out the words with what seemed to be a kitchen knife. He was seen unhooking the picture frames, and writing out the other points in the message. He was seen strolling around the EMF detector teasingly. None of this deterred the owner, however. "I've seen this boy many times in the other videos! He isn't that harmle—"
The pictures clattered to the ground. The figure let go of the knife, which stayed in its current position in surprise, before gaining an enraged look. The knife began to write on its own, and the cloaked figure walked towards the camera, looking at the lens intently. His figure flickered in a glowing state a few times as he walked, before finally stopping in front of the camera. His body illuminated completely. "In the name of me, the REAL owner of this house, I command you to leave." The owner stumbled back a little, much like the camera man did.
"D'you sees the points where 'e flickers? 'At was when I could actually see 'em. And look," The camera man grabs the device and waits for a moment, before pausing the camera and handing it back to the priest. It stopped at a point when the wall with the writing was in clear view.
"So? It's just a bunch of scribbles on a wall." The owner of the house mutters. The camera man shakes his head. "Are you stupid?! Mirror the image." He presses a button on the digital camera, and the image flips. The once- scribbled symbols turn into a scrawled sort of writing:
If another mortal dares to enter this house again, their soul and body will be mine for the taking, as well as any more to come.
The owner stares at the message for a long time. Finally, after a long pause, he sighs. "This house is too dangerous for anyone to keep."
