This is dedicated to my bestest friend in the whole wide world who is very mad at me right now, because of my unfortunate timing in being sick, which made it where I couldn't go with her to a campout she is forced to attend, leaving her bored to death and lonely. Hopefully this story will make up for it! I love you, darling! Sorry! Again!


"Two deaths in two weeks." George said suddenly, slapping down a stack of newspapers on the table and pointing to an article. "At first I thought it was just coincidence, but this article," He slapped down a different newspaper and pointed to a smaller article, "Suggests otherwise. I think its a Haunting."

I leaned closer and started to read the second article.

History Repeats Itself: The Sudden Deaths in Hathling Manor

Fifty-six years ago, Hathling Manor was home to the famous Hathlings, a prominent and wealthy family. They had everything going for them. Mr. John Hathling was about to make a business deal to expand his company to Asia. Mrs. Grace Hathling had just finished filming the blockbuster of the year. Their children Margaret and William were feasting on the benefits of their parents wealth and success. However, on a breezy summer night, their dream life turned suddenly into a nightmare. They returned to the Manor from a party at midnight, only to be found dead in the morning. All four bodies were discovered at the base of the Grand Staircase, swollen, broken, and mangled, with a slightly bluish tint. Scotland Yard ruled it as a murder, but to this day it remains unsolved.

Now, fifty-six years later, two more bodies are found in the exact same place, with the exact same symptoms. Could it be, that whatever caused the end of the Hathlings, has returned?

I sat back, thinking about the article. "It sounds like ghost-touch." I stated to no one in particular.

Lockwood spoke up from his seat next to me. "I agree with Lucy. It is most surely a manifestation that caused the six deaths. But legally, we aren't allowed to go check things out, since it requires explicit permission from whoever currently owns the place."

"One step ahead of you, Lockwood." George said. "I was researching the Hathlings, and it turns out they didn't have two children. They had three. Emma Hathling, the youngest. She wasn't featured in the article, because she didn't die. She was visiting her aunt in Birmingham when her family was reported dead. Now, she is old and lives in Birmingham, but she is still alive, and has the ownership of the Manor. I called her up earlier today, and got permission from her to go investigate at Hathling Manor. We are scheduled to go next Tuesday."

"Good work, George," Lockwood said, smiling. "Let's start getting ready then."


The following week was filled with the chaos that always accompanies the big cases; George researching anything and everything that could possibly deal with Hathling Manor, Lockwood talking to the locals nearby the Manor, and me fully restocking and ugrading our supplies. The flurry of activity always helped to keep away the fear of the high possibility of death.

Too soon, Tuesday came, and we set off on the train to Hathling Manor. An hour or so later, we arrived. The Manor was just as the pictures George had found showed: large, desolate, and ominous, with tangles of ivy creeping up the walls. What the pictures failed to show, however, was the overwhelming feeling of malaise and miasma that coated the entire place.

"The despondency and sluggishness shouldn't have occurred so soon." Lockwood stated. "I had my suspicions before, but now I am positive. The ghost that is residing in there, is surely a Type Two."

There was nothing to say in response to that, so all three of us began again to make the trek to the main entrance. The closer we came to the entrance, the more reluctant I was to enter. Lockwood was right. If the Creeping Fear is already coming, it must be a powerful Type Two indeed.

We reached the threshold, and I didn't allow myself to hesitate. I knew that if I did I would turn around and run, loyalties to my friends aside. So instead, I briskly stepped in, quickly followed by George and Lockwood. Directly in front of us rose what must have been the Grand Staircase, for it was grand indeed. Large flowing marble steps with gold inlay, it looked like something that belonged in a fairy tale.

While I was admiring it, George spoke to Lockwood. "Do you see any death-glows?"

Lockwood took a moment to answer, staring at the Staircase. "...Yes. I do. The Source must be nearby. But...its the strangest thing...the death-glows...," He hesitated, then swallowed, bracing himself. "The death-glows are the Staircase."

Cue the stunned silence... And cue the overflow of questions George and I flooded him with. "They are the Staircase?" "How is that possible?" "What does that even mean?" "What could have happened?"

Lockwood held up a hand, quieting us immediately. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "Naturally, it isn't the Staircase itself. But, it's quite strange, because instead of seeing a glowing spot where a death has occurred, like normal, the glow covers the entire bottom half of the Staircase. As if, the deaths weren't stationary. It couldn't be that they had fallen. We've done cases like that, and the glow is only at the final landing point. This honestly looks like they died moving. I know that makes no sense. It doesn't make sense to me either. But that's not the only thing. There isn't six glows. There is seven."

"I thought the entire bottom half was glowing. How can you tell?" George questioned.

"The final stopping place of the body is slightly brighter than the rest."

"And you're sure?" I clarified.

"Positive."

"But George said there was only six deaths."

"And there was. But you two are forgetting. There had to have been a death, for there to be a ghost."

As if summoned, ectoplasm mist started curling around their feet, and the temperature suddenly dropped, two sure signs of a soon-to-be manifestation. I stared up at the top of the Staircase, scared of what was coming.

I felt eyes on me, and turned to see Lockwood watching me, a slight smile on his face. "Let's do this, Lucy." He whispered to me. I felt myself unconsciously smile, and together we turned to await the inevitable, rapiers drawn.


A/N: I don't feel good. And this seemed like a good way to end it. But if people like it, I might finish it? If you guys want me to I will write more. I have some ideas if you guys want, or I can leave it. Let me know your thoughts please!