A quick note for everyone reading this story: this story will contain OCs, two that I can name, including one being the central character of the story. If you do not like to read about OCs, that's fine :)

For those that this did not scare off, enjoy your reading! Don't forget to leave a review, it's always a pleasure for me to read those and to discuss with you guys!

Yours truly,

Circle of J, the author.

Phantom Manor: Control freaks

Prologue

How cliché could this job be?

Walking into the gardens leading up to the old, almost entirely crumbled Ravenswood Manor sounded like a joke. A joke that she didn't really like that much, but the paycheck was kind of great, so she needed to comply. The trees, high and dry, with their leaves falling down and covering the steps in front of the entrance didn't reassure her in the least. Supposedly, this manor was haunted. There had been, according to the governor of Thunder Mesa, several complaints from different people who have walked near the manor, explaining that they had seen and/or heard weird things happening within this old Victorian mansion. Being an expert when it came to the paranormal field—due to several experiences that she didn't want to mention, the detective—or, more so, trespasser—Camellia had decided to enquire about the claims. To see if anything was true, which she doubted.

As she walked up the marble stairs, Camellia ran her hand along the ramp, which was covered with vines that coiled around it, armed with little thorns that hurt her finger to the point it bled. The detective clicked her tongue, annoyed, and sucked on her wounded finger when she set foot on the step in front of the doors. Big, wooden doors, that had broken windows at the top. As though someone had thrown rocks into them to bust them. Stupid idea.

Camellia stepped inside without further ado, grimacing when the door creaked while it was being opened ever so gently. She took a first, daring step inside, and realized that the air was thick and dusty really quickly—when she started to choke. She put a hand over her mouth to filter the filthiness of the air, and walked in, fully closing the door without looking back. Her mission was starting: she needed to investigate around the old manor, to try and find ghosts—or any kind of weird sighting, at this point she would take everything.

Camellia stepped forward, up to a small cabinet, which had three family pictures on it. One was of a little girl in the arms of her mother, with names scratched at the bottom, as though someone had tried to write them down with their nails in order not to forget them. The second one, in a golden frame, represented a man, with a top hat and that same little girl in his arms. This time around, the 'mother'—she presumed—was nowhere to be found, only those two. The final picture, which had no frame at all and was barely visible through the coat of dust that clouded it, showed both the girl, when she was in her teenage years, and her father, standing next to her with a grave expression.

The detective put down the picture, a bit worried because she felt as if she was being watched. An evil eye was staring at her in the back, and Camellia didn't feel too comfortable with that thought, so she decided that it was better to move on. Eventually, she found a door that could be opened, and screamed when dozens of skeletons fell on her, all stacked one above the other, as though they had been rushing for the door but it never let them out. Camellia struggled to push them off, not wanting to dirty her hands, but eventually had to, since they wouldn't go off that easily. She stood up and wiped the filth off of her long, coffee brown dress. With a sigh, she walked over the skeletons. "I'm not creeped out yet. You'll need more than a few props to scare me off, 'ghost'!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping that the mysterious figure that was following her would hear.

She crossed a room, entirely in the dark and with the only help of her three-branched candlestick, whose light was fading out because of the cold breeze that was constantly streaming around the manor. Although no window was open. Strange.

Camellia soon arrived at what she would call the 'staircase room', because there was only that: a giant staircase that parted ways at the top, to lead to two different directions. As in Beauty and the Beast, essentially. Wait, that didn't exist? Well, anyways, you get the picture. The detective held out her candlestick, trying to bring a tinge of brightness in the somberness surrounding her, and squinted her eyes when she heard, ever so far in the distance, a voice singing. From what she was given to hear, it was a young woman, with the voice of an angel. A little echoey… But still an angel.

The detective decided not to worry about it just yet, and continued her tour of the staircase room. She eventually chose to go up, to look into the different bedrooms that were, surely, upstairs, but stopped when she set foot on the first step. A woman had appeared, out of nowhere, at the window, whimpering while singing, with that same voice that was echoing down the halls before. Camellia blinked, surprised, and retreated; she didn't want to bother a ghost, because that woman surely was a ghost. Unless… she had been hiding behind the curtain this whole time?

The woman, disguised as a bride, slightly turned her head and gasped when she saw Camellia standing there. She also held a candlestick, that she had put on the edge of the window, except that hers was golden and the flames seemed to ever glow. Camellia gulped, stepping back slowly but surely, and the bride turned fully to face her. She was literally shimmering, as much as the fire was; her form was disappearing into the darkness, before coming back into view, brighter than before. Her long white dress reached her feet and beyond, and gave the woman a charming silhouette with a well-defined waist. She also wore white gloves that stopped at her elbows. In her left hand, she was holding a bouquet of withered roses, that smelt just as bad as the skeletons in that other room.

The detective blinked, and she wasn't there anymore. As though she had hallucinated. Camellia sighed, relieved, and suddenly tensed up when she felt a cold, firm blade at her throat. The woman was standing behind her, frowning a little but not saying a word. Camellia breathed through the nose, trying not to panic. "Well, hey there…" she began with a shaking voice, that betrayed her fright in the face of that ghost lady.

The bride frowned more and grasped on the hilt of her axe—it seemed to be one—before bringing it even closer to the detective's throat. "We do not allow trespassers in this property," she said firmly, coldly, without looking away.

Camellia gulped again, and tried to explain herself. "I-I'm here because the Mayor… wanted me to investigate!"

"Investigate?"

"Well, yeah! Hehe! He, well… Some people c-claimed that they had seen ghosts in this manor, so I was c-called to check it out and reassure the population of Thunder Mesa!"

"About this manor hosting no ghosts?" the bride asked, ever so serious.

Camellia just nodded and attempted to scoot away from the ghost lady, but she wouldn't let go of her. After a moment of analyzing the detective's facial expression, looking for a sign that would give out her lie, the bride lowered her deadly weapon, which was already stained with blood. Camellia quickly stepped back, to keep a safe distance between her and the ghost woman, when the latter said, "Tell them that they are not allowed to come close to this manor ever again. Whoever it may be, I will spare no soul."

"Well, you seeeeee…"

The bride raised an eyebrow, waiting for what would come after, and Camellia bit her lower lip; would she be shredded into pieces if she dared to say that she needed to stay? Not that she wanted to, of course not! She needed to harvest some clues as to the sightings that she would claim seeing in the manor… in order to get her paycheck at the end of this week. If she left just then, without further inspections, she would be sent back to her old country house, with her parents, and… would have no money whatsoever, although she did put her life in danger.

Of course, that was unacceptable for her. But was it worth the cost? If she stuck around, she would run into even more risks than she did until then… Was it worth losing her life?

Camellia sniffed, unsure, and the bride tapped her foot against the carpet. She looked annoyed, bored and really close to sealing the fate of the intruder. However, the detective cleared her throat, thus grabbing the ghost's attention, and decided to speak up. "Everything we do in this world has its money worth. You know?"

"I would know."

"Soooo, essentially, long story short: I have to stick around, until I find actual clues to back up my claims of, indeed, seeing ghosts roaming around in this old, creepy house."

The bride seemed unimpressed, folding her arms. Her axe had miraculously disappeared, which helped put to ease Camellia, since her life wasn't directly threatened any longer. The ghost lady shook her head in exasperation, and turned her back to the detective. "You are not fearing for your life. You have no idea what lies between those walls."

Camellia gritted her teeth, feeling a threat behind those words—when there probably wasn't, it was surely just a piece of advice from a scary ghostly married woman. The detective looked over to the side, since she didn't want to face the ghost after she had nearly killed her, and nodded, absent-minded; were there other ghosts and creatures in this mansion? Just, what was this place? Hell?

Before she could think about it any longer, the bride stood before her, now holding her candlestick. "If you insist on staying, who I am to kick you out? What's your name?"

"Camellia!"

"Like the flowers?"

The detective nodded; that alone seemed to put the ghost in a good mood, so she wouldn't say no. The bride smiled brightly at the mention of flowers, and eyed at her bouquet, which she was growing sick of holding all the time. After a brief moment of silence between the two young women, the bride glanced up and met Camellia's eyes. "I am Melanie Ravenswood. This manor is my property—or, at least, it was meant to be."

Camellia rolled eyes. "Don't start with the cryptic shit, ain't into that. So, are there any more ghosts in this hellhole?"

Melanie nodded lightly, though she seemed rather uneasy; was it a subject that she tried to avoid? Why? Maybe because she herself was a ghost and didn't accept it? That could explain why she was so stiff, all of a sudden… But perhaps there was also something deeper at play, and Camellia needed to keep in mind that she probably was far from having seen everything.

Melanie turned her back to Camellia and started walking up the stairs, in order to stand at the window again and look outside, at the cold, starry night. A slight breeze came through the broken glass and brushed against the curtains, which floated lightly in a bristle of fabric. Camellia watched her, not understanding the meaning of the lack of response, but decided not to mind it, going back to her enquiry. As soon as she turned on her heels to start and wander into a dark, gloomy-looking corridor to the left of the staircase, Melanie turned her eyes to her and shook her head disapprovingly. She walked down the stairs, her long dress kissing the red carpet under her ghostly feet, which were of a strange light blue color. The detective stopped moving, fearing that she might have done something to annoy the bride, but instead Melanie came by her side, holding out her candlestick. The bright yellow flames provided a bit of light in the thick somberness, which was progressively repelled by the presence of that shimmer of hope. Melanie led the way, making sure that her guest was following at all times, and paused when she arrived at a specific corridor, which appeared to have no end.

Camellia frowned and wanted to ask her to move forward, but Melanie didn't say a thing nor moved a finger, looking out into that hallway with disillusion gleaming in her empty eyes. The light of the candlestick started to fade, allowing darkness to swallow them whole after a brief moment only. Camellia stayed close to Melanie, though she was not reactive, staring out into that hallway with an infinite number of doors. Two glowing red eyes were glimmering at the end of that hallway, looking right at them. Melanie bit her lower lip, distressed, and grabbed onto Camellia's arm, in order for them to move along. She couldn't pretend that she hadn't seen the shadow standing there, with a tall top hat and a cape over its shoulders, but she tried not to focus on it. She needed, first and foremost, to get the detective to safety.

Melanie pulled her past several doors, behind which souls were screeching, begging to be let out. Camellia started shaking, feeling truly surrounded, and reconsidered her decision to stay in the manor for longer. However, she had no time to focus on it, since they were being 'followed', if she could trust the bride's words. The two women ran up to a huge bedroom, which contained a fireplace, a vanity and a big bed—all covered with dust, of course. In the fireplace, a green flame was consuming ever so slowly a few wooden sticks. Camellia sat down on the bed, sneezing three times when the dust was lifted up and came into her nose, and cast her eyes onto the painting above the fireplace; it was Melanie herself, in her wedding gown. She came to wonder when this piece had been painted, but didn't mind asking, since they were in trouble.

Melanie shut the door tightly after they had walked in, and sat down at the vanity, looking into the mirror in sheer terror of seeing his reflection standing behind her, over her shoulder. She sighed in relief when she realized that she was alone —but for how long? Since she had no clear idea, the bride stood up and faced her guest, whom was laying down in bed, hugging the blankets and trembling like a leaf in the face of the wind. She smiled softly, reassuringly, and walked up to sit on the edge of the bed. "Everything will be okay, young flower," Melanie said, trying to sound soothing although fear was gripping her throat. "I will help you gather your evidence, so that you can leave as soon as possible."

"Are you all crazy in this house or?"

Melanie sighed. "I guess decades of solitude eventually get to your head."

Camellia teared up, hugging a pillow that was there, even though it was dusty and she nearly choked on it; she hoped that she would make it out, and prayed to God that she would find her clues in less than a day. Because otherwise, she couldn't be sure to ever get out of this nightmarish house…

To be continued…?