August 3rd 12:14 a.m.
It was the largest house in Forks, Washington. A mansion for all intents and purposes, standing three stories tall and with the feel of a southern plantation. The porch wrapped around and held rocking chairs and a swing that creaked as the cold wind pushed against it. The white paint was in need of retouching and the shutters that shielded the windows from the outside mist were chipped and rotting. At one time, the house had been the gem of the small town. Now, it was a reminder. The house had been abandoned for thirty years, the air around it thick with tragedy and loss, the scent of death-while long since gone after many rains-could easily be imagined, intertwined with the ivy that crept up the railings of the porch and threatened to entrap any who trespass. An old engine broke through the eerie quiet as the moon settled behind the clouds, harsh lights falling over the house as the beat up blue van loudly drove up the gravel drive.
It had long since become a game, a right of passage, for high school students to spend the night within the house. Ever since the game began twenty five years ago, after a camper had heard gut wrenching screams emanating through the nailed windows, many groups of thrill-seeking teenagers had attempted to stay longer than the last.
The record was three hours.
Five students exited the van, some excited and armed with video cameras and snacks while some were more cautious, clinging to each other and hoarding the flashlights.
"Guys, wouldn't you rather go to the movies?" Angela asked, her voice trembling with nerves as she eyed the house, her knuckles turning white from her firm grip on the light.
"Come on Angela, it'll be fun!" Tyler threw his arm over her shoulders and squeezed her too him. "I can see the college essays now: I survived the night in a haunted house!" He joked. Angela rolled her eyes and shoved him away, marching ahead of him, but stopping short of the stairs leading up to the house. Jessica slipped her hand in Angela's before carefully guiding her through the vine covered stairs and onto the porch.
"Hey Mike, throw me a beer!" She called over the railing toward the boys as they dragged a cooler out of the back of the van. Mike reached into the ice and grabbed a can before jogging up the stairs confidently and handing the can to the girl with an exaggerated and passionate kiss. Angela looked away politely and fumbled with the can as Jessica handed it to her before intertwining her hands in Mikes hair. Even though she was not one to normally turn to alcohol, looking anywhere by the house and her enthralled friends, Angela popped the tab and took a long drink, shuddering as the cheap fermented tasted burned her throat.
"Mike, Jess, there are plenty of rooms upstairs!" Ben called as he and Tyler ambulated up the stairs with the cooler sloshing between them. The reminder of their location made the couple split apart, each student now looking at the large wooden door. In its heyday the ornately carved door was its featured item. It stood eight feet tall, a beautiful cherry on iron hinges, with swirls carefully hand carved into it's frame. The window was stained glass with no obvious image, just an array of greens, blues, and yellows. Now, the wood was dark and, having not been taken care of, was engorged with mildew and water. The hinges were rusted and the window was broken, grossly replaced with a cardboard cut out pushed into the frame. The group stared at the door with bated breath, each almost expecting some unknown force to blow it open and invite them in. Seconds passed before Mike puffed up his chest and reached out, only the slight trembling of his hand showed his nerves as he gripped the knob and turned it slowly and pushing forward.
It was anticlimactic how the door stuck to the frame, yet it was a forewarning, had any of the group been superstitious enough to have seen it. Only Angela's hair raised as Mike and Tyler both had to throw their weight at the door to gain entry, but after another bitter gulp of alcohol, she ignored it and followed her friends into the mansion.
"I didn't know it was empty." Ben stated, dragging the cooler in by himself, the plastic scraping against the layers of dust that covered the once beautiful hardwood floor.
"I heard the dad had everything burned," Jessica whispered, before folding herself up in the middle of the floor. "Apparently everything was covered in blood so, what else was he supposed to do with it? Even Goodwill wouldn't take that shit."
"I didn't think he left until his wife died," Angela wondered quietly, finishing her beer as the group looked over at her. The attention, the house, the topic… her empty can was quickly replaced with another. Ben wrapped his arm around her waist and gently guided her to middle of the floor.
"Yeah, but she didn't want to let go, so she must have just covered everything up in like...sheets and stuff," Jessica rambled, struggling to cover the flaw in her story.
"Did you hear that Mrs. Mallory is trying to sell this place again?" Mike asked as he and Tyler joined the group, creating a semicircle. "Something about the market being just right for someone to see the "charm" of the house."
"Do you think she'll tell the new owners about what happened?" Angela asked softly. No one answered for a moment. Tyler cleared his throat, reaching into his backpack for a bag of chips and a flashlight.
"Well there is only one thing to do to start off our night of greatness!" He turned on the flashlight and turned it under his chin. "Let me tell you the tragic story of what really happened to Isabella Swan."