Hey guys! Now that summer is here I can finally get my fanfics done. I hope you guys enjoy!
"But Dad, I am perfectly healthy-"
"We just want to be sure," the man insisted," you've been exhausted these past few days. I don't blame you for the stress, Madge. Your grandma- she puts all of this nonsense in your head. I should have never introduced you to that book."
Madge held onto her copy of the story, for fear of her father snatching it away. He just glanced at the cover, then smiled at his daughter. After kissing her forehead and bidding her goodnight, he got up and left the room. He had a lot on his mind and his daughter's ever growing illness wasn't going to help.
"Is she alright?" Edith asked softly, knowing that her granddaughter was not, in fact, ill.
"She'll be okay," her son's expression softened," she needs rest and maybe more medicine. You should get some rest too, mom."
John went into his room, but Edith stayed in the hall. She knew what was best for her family, but was dismissed like every other time. If only her son could understand...
With frustration, his daughter picked up her book and read it to herself. She couldn't believe she was stuck in her room because of her visions. No, it wasn't visions. It was really the ghosts! The house had been haunted.
"Why can't I get it through your head?" she asked quietly, as if her father was in the room and still talking to him," What is so wrong that I can't come to you with the truth? I wish you understood. I wish you did."
Madge knew talking to herself wasn't going to help, so she just read her book without a word. Slowly, she found that she was falling asleep. Her eyes closed as the book was clutched to her chest, feeling a bit feverish and overall tired from the situation.
She woke up in a room she hadn't seen before. It was a tiny room, in her perspective, with only one thing in front of her. Madge felt her heart race as she looked around, clutching her chest, holding her book tightly. It was her security blanket in this room, without much knowledge of where she actually was.
"Hello?" she called, without an echo," Mom? Dad? Grandma?"
No answer. Madge looked around, hoping to find some guidance in this dream. She studied the vault in front of her. It was a metal circle, the bolts twisted on the sides and the lid. The twisting top looked as though it was holding back something evil. Nonetheless, the girl was guided towards the vault without much of a thought. She held the book in her left hand, tucking it close to her chest as she twisted the top. It took a few quick movements before it finally opened. The thundering crash of the lid hit the floor.
In the vault was inches of thick, red clay. Madge had heard about this in the story, and been told by her grandmother. The vaults were in the basement. They had always been. It was where the Sharpes hid the bodies...as Madge leaned closer to truly study the substance, a red hand came from the sea and grabbed the girl by the throat. She struggled for a good second before it began to drag her in. She could smell the mixture of clay and blood in her nose, pure panic setting in. Madge's nose was less than an inch away beforeā¦
The girl woke up, clinging to the book. The sweat ran down her forehead, feeling weak and scared all at once. Her fear was slowly subsiding, but spiked once more when she saw the figure in front of her.
"Stay back," she whispered, ready to throw her book at the ghost anytime.
The ghost had been as white as snow, eyes like that of a blind man. The cut on his cheek was deep and the color of the clay in Madge's dream. He did not stir in front of her, but gave a small smile when she raised the book. The girl realized that he wouldn't be hurting her. Madge had seen this man before, but where?
"Can I ask why you're here?" she asked quietly.
The ghost did not speak. He turned his head to the door quickly, which made the girl jolt back. He slowly looked back to her, and extended his hand towards her. Madge slowly got out of the bed, contemplating her own actions as she went to the door. The strange ghost looked to the door once more. She leaned her ear against the door, still afraid of the ghost before her.
"...we have a lot of setting up to do," John mentioned to another person in the hall," Rearranging is the first step to success in our new home. That means fixing up rooms and getting rid of all that old furniture."
"Oh, but some of it is priceless," his wife brought up," Like that old piano! We have to keep that."
"We will, dear," John sighed," if this house is haunted, the spirits wouldn't be too happy with throwing out some of their precious furniture- now would they?"
Madge felt her back muscles tense. She looked to the ghost, who looked into her eyes. The smile was gone and a feeling of despair washed over his tired face. He shook his head gently, then looked back to the door. Madge felt her hands were shaking as she turned to the door again, hearing that they were walking away. She lifted her head from the door and looked to the ground. She understood now why the strange man was here.
"Does this mean that-?"
But when she went to speak up, the ghost had vanished from her sights. Madge kept her eyes to the door. She had to keep these visions to herself- for fear of her father sending her off, thinking she was sick- or just touched in the head.
