Another week, another chapter. Thanks to WanderingChild2007 for the two reviews, they made me feel special. D Anyway, you know I don't own it, so let's get on with it. Enjoy!


"N-number what?"

"One thousand." He said it very calmly as if they were discussing the weather instead of death. "We always have room for one more and today's your lucky day."

Paula started edging backwards to the door, hoping that there was someway, anyway, that she could escape. Ghosts were one thing, but a ghost trying to kill her was another thing entirely. The demented look in his eyes told Paula that there was probably no chance of her ever getting out of the house. Alive that is. She was right. The doorknob would not turn. Fear flooded her senses, she could not think, she could not move. Gracey was still smirking at her and a throaty chuckle emerged from his lips. What had he become? This was not the man that had greeted her in the foyer hours earlier. It was like he had pulled an Anakin Skywalker and went over to the dark side.

"I don't understand."

Gracey waved his hand dismissively. "There is no need to understand." Paula gulped audibly. "Now, I know that you like to play Hide and Seek, so let's start our own game, shall we? You can hide anywhere in the house, I'll count to a hundred, and then I'll come find you."

"What happens after you find me?"

"You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure it out on your own. Ready?" He waved his hand and the study door unlocked. "1…2…3…"

The first three numbers were all Paula needed to start running. His menacing count echoed as she ran for her life. Gracey certainly had the upper hand. He had lived in the house for decades and had the power of materializing. Paula would not be surprised if he had some sort of ghost GPS so he could find her. She would just have to go to a place he would never look. A place without ghosts, if that was even possible to find. While running up a carpeted staircase, an idea hit her. The attic, or at least that's what Gracey said it was. Now if only she could find it. She continued running. If she could keep running, then she would be all right; at least, she hoped so. Finally, after running around in circles, she came back to the intersection in the passageways. She ran up the creaky wooden stairs, and hoped that the room was not something out of Bluebeard. She quickly turned the latch as Gracey's voice echoed out through the corridors.

"I'm up to sixty-five now, Miss Andersen. I hope you've found a good hiding place. 66…67…68…"

Paula had to push on the door to get it to open. Obviously, as Gracey and the wear indicated, the door had not been opened in a while. However, the door was not locked. It gave way once Paula applied her shoulder as leverage. These hinges were also in serious need of WD40. As the door opened, a great cloud of dust rose, which made Paula sneeze. Besides the blanket of dust, interesting items filled the room. While she examined the room, she moved into the centre, ducking low hanging wooden beams. The overpowering scent of flowers filled Paula's nostrils and a second later, a vase with a blue and white design came whizzing through the air straight at Paula's head. She yelped and ducked causing the vase to crash against the door. As she hit the dusty ground, a ghoul with a skull-like face popped up from behind a trunk. Paula threw herself backwards, away from the phantom, who snickered and sunk back down to his hiding place. The sound of a heartbeat grew louder and louder as a wispy spirit with a red glowing heart and another vase in her raised hand.

"You finally come up here after all these years…" The voice was full of anger and distinctly female.

"Wait!" Another voice, male this time spoke up. "It's not Gracey!"

The ghost lowered her weapon slightly and timidly whispered, "It's not?"

"Nope."

"How do you know?"

"I'm staring right at her."

Paula cautiously looked over to her right, where the male voice was coming from. There was no other spirit there; just a hatbox that's top had been knocked off when she had fallen backwards. Unknowing what lay inside the box, Paula peeked over the edge of the box. Inside was a disembodied skeletal head. Perched on his head was a tall top hat with messy wisps of hair sticking out from under it. The head smiled at her revealing several gold teeth.

"Hi there!"

Paula shrieked again and pulled herself away from the box. The woman ghost had stepped into the light so that Paula could see her. Like every other ghost in the manor, the woman had a blue glow that surrounded her body. Her long platinum blonde hair flowed to the middle of her back and over her hair was a sheer white tiered veil that flowed to the floor. She wore a beautiful wedding gown. It had a high neck and leg o' mutton sleeves. A gold cameo necklace hung around her neck from a violet ribbon. The long skirt had an intricate lace overlay that flowed down to make a short train on the dusty attic floor. She had a pretty, young face and Paula figured that the woman could not be older that her own age of seventeen. Now that the woman saw who was in the attic, the beating of her heart softened, set down the vase, and offered her a hand up.

"Don't mind him. He was always the black sheep of the family."

"Thanks, Em. What a wonderful thing for you to say."

"Be quiet, Tony."

A headless body tottered over to the hatbox and took out the head. The body placed the head on his shoulders and twisted it in place. A sickening crack emitted from his neck. Once he got his head on straight, he gave them another toothy grin. He wore a handsome double-breasted grey suit underneath a large dark blue cloak with a large v-shaped collar that surrounded half of his head. Also underneath the cloak was a dark red scarf that trailed down to his knees. In his right hand, he held a knobby cane. He held out his other hand for Paula to shake. She took it as he introduced himself.

"I'm Tony Cavanaugh and this here is my sister Emily."

"Nice to meet you. I don't mean to be rude, but is there anyplace to hide up here?"

As the two siblings thought, Gracey's voice rang out through the room. "85…86…87…89…"

"George is playing his favourite game again, is he?" Tony's voice grew darker as he looked around to help the nervous mortal. Emily pointed to an open trunk next to her.

"What about this?"

"Em, remember what happened the last time someone hid in a trunk?"

"Oh, yeah." Her eyes lit on a large portrait of a redheaded pirate with a cherub, who had wings and an anchor tattoo, pouring wine into her goblet while three seagulls looked on. A flag with a skull and crossbones gave way to the sea and a three-masted ship on the horizon. The redhead held a sword loosely in her hands and a pistol was tucked into a brown belt at her waist. Pink striped socks came up to her knees and a tattoo of a heart with an arrow through it graced her right thigh. The rest of her outfit was pink, even the hat that sat on her head was a dark maroon colour with a large light pink feather emerging from it. Her right elbow rested on a red upholstered chair and sea coloured fabric spilled from the set. A bowl overflowing with fruit sat in front of the chair. There was an opulent gold frame surrounding the picture.

"99…100…ready or not, Miss Andersen, here I come."

The sounds of amplified footsteps echoed through the mansion. Paula assumed that he was just doing it for dramatic effect. Even though she knew what he was doing, the sounds still put her on edge. Emily lifted the picture so that Paula could crawl behind it. Gently, Emily put the picture back to its original position and draped a heavy old green curtain over the frame so that it completely covered Paula's curled up form. In the shadows, Paula hugged her legs to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees. She silently repeated the mantra that she had said while playing this game in her childhood. Please, don't find me. Please, don't find me. The sound of footsteps grew louder until they were in the room. Emily's heartbeat got stronger and more irate. George was in the attic. Paula was glad that Emily's heartbeat was so loud. If it were not, then her heart would be deafening.

Crash.

Another vase had met its maker, or at least Master Gracey's form. He looked down at his midsection, where the vase had gone through. The smoky blue mist was rearranging back into his tuxedo jacket. He cleared his throat and chose his words carefully before speaking.

"It's nice to see you again, Emily. I see that your aim has improved."

"Oh George," she began with a sweet tone, and then it turned angry. "It's only been sixty-seven years."

"That long?" He looked around the attic searching for Paula. Also, he began to look nervous. Emily was famous for her Scarlett O'Hara like temper that could rival a redhead's. Tony stepped out of the shadows and addressed the master of the manor.

"Looking for something, George? You haven't been up here since an interesting game of hide and seek."

Gracey stared coolly at the hatbox ghost. "Don't loose your head, Tony…"

"Too late. That was brilliant; did you come up with that all by yourself?"

"A game of hide and seek is exactly what I'm here for." He ignored Tony's statement. "Have either of you seen a teenage girl running around?"

"The only things I've seen after all these years are these ghastly popup ghosts. You're the first person to come up here in ages, and if you leave now then I may forget that you came up here at all."

Gracey looked around once more before turning to leave. Satisfied that Paula had not come in here, he left without another word to Emily or Tony. Paula breathed a sigh of relief and exited her hiding place. The ghostly bride put her fingers to her lips. There was a chance that the Master was still waiting outside the attic door to see if his bride had been lying. Emily looked around for a secondary escape route. The dilapidated shutters had covered the broken window behind her and the door could be guarded by Gracey. Tony gestured for Paula to follow him while pointing to the floor. He was pointing at a square door in the floor that had an old brass handle attached. Paula tugged at the door until it came up with a quiet creak. She rolled her eyes; that was getting annoying. Behind the door was nothing but blackness.

"What is it?"

"Well, obviously it's a trapdoor. I don't know how many people have used it or know about it, but I figure that it was put here just for Em, 'cause the builders figured that she would get cold feet. Ow!"

Emily smacked him on the arm, hard. "I did not get cold feet. I was just nervous."

"You were a wreck."

"Tony…"

Paula broke in. "So you don't know where it goes?"

"No, I didn't say that. It leads to a hallway off the main foyer."

"Great." Paula lowered herself into the blackness. Her legs dangled in the air, so she figured that she had to let go and drop the rest of the way. With her eyes squinted shut, she counted silently to three, no more, no less, and let go of the hole's sides. She dropped several feet, and then hit something that gave a metallic ring in the darkness when she landed. It was a smooth and slanted surface. There was only time to open her eyes and see that there was nothing but darkness around before she began to slide forward. What she could not see she felt as the slide twisted and turned. The cool metal made her shiver and she hoped that the ride would be over soon. Abruptly, the slide ended and Paula was thrown through the air only to land on a musty mattress. She sneezed as she stood up and began to look for an exit.

There was a sliver of light a few paces to her left. She headed to the light and pushed on the wall. It soon gave way and sent Paula tumbling into the first hallway she had encountered, except this time, all the ghosts were silent. They must have learned about the game she and the master were playing. The doors were all shut. This meant that Paula had a guessing game ahead of her. She picked a door that she thought that she had not gone through before, and it turned out she was right.

The door opened to a library. Scads of books lined every bit of the wall, except a few alcoves where white busts sat. Even thought the walls were covered in books, more books sat on any uncovered surface another door was on the opposite end of the room. She began to head over to it when something on a table caught her eye. It was a book with a blue cover and gold foil lettering that said The Most Dangerous Game.

"Subtlety, thy name is Gracey."

"Oh, you saw that?"

Gracey materialized in the doorway that she had just come through. There was no getting out that way, unless she ran through him, which could be possible if he did not solidify himself. Paula did not take that chance. She bolted to the other door, threw it open, and ran out to the hall. Another door was open a few doors down. It was the door to the foyer. Gracey had disappeared again, but Paula just concentrated on running.

The foyer was unchanged except for Gracey's portrait over the fireplace. It had changed from the handsome looking young man to a skeleton in the remains of a tuxedo. The eyes had also changed from blue to two white, glowing orbs with small black dots as pupils. Light grey wisps of hair hung limply from the sides of his head. Everything, from the separate vertebrae of the neck to each bone of his fingers, could be seen. The only skin visible was a patch above his left eye. Paula shivered and tried the front door. The rattle of the knob was an indication that it was still locked and there was no way to open it. A slam behind her made her jump around to see the door to the hallway was now shut, leaving no escape route for her. Paula remembered Terry saying something about a hidden room in the foyer. She began frantically pressing on sections of the wall to find the entrance. At a section to the right of the fireplace, she knocked twice to see if the area behind it was hollow. It was. She pushed with all of her weight, hoping that this was the secret door. With another push, the door popped in about an inch, then no more. Paula let out a victorious yell and tried to figure out how to finish opening the door.

It was only when she pushed to the right, that the door slid open. She jumped inside the small room and shut the door behind her, not noticing that the portrait's eyes followed her every move.

Paula let out a sigh of relief after closing the door. She was safe, or so she thought. The first thing she noticed was there were no windows and no doors. That put a definite problem in her plans. The second thing she noticed was the motionless body of her brother. His brown eyes were still wide with shock and there was not a mark on his body. The signs suggested that he died of pure fright. The only colour on his now pale skin was a dark coloured trail of dried blood that started at the corner of his open mouth and ran to his chin. Paula gagged at the sight. It was the first time she had seen a dead body, and it just had to be her brother. She reached down and closed his vacant eyes, which seemed to ease her reaction, and looked around the room.

The room was octagonal with striped wallpaper. Leering gargoyles each held two flickering candles in their claws. Four paintings graced the walls of the room. Two were of males and the other two were of the fairer sex. One depicted a smug looking man with his arms crossed. He wore a white shirt with a high collar, a dark grey suit, and a light blue. A dark brown derby was perched on his head. The other portrait of the man was of a bald, distinguished looking man with an impressive beard. A reddish-coloured sash that matched the curtains behind him sat over his tuxedo shirt and gold waistcoat. His right hand held the opening of his jacket and his other hand held some sort of document. The picture directly across from the entrance was of an older plump woman with her hair up and pearl studs in her ears. She wore a high-collared dress, which was adorned with lace at the collar and a lace edged, maroon shawl was carefully placed on her shoulders. In her dainty hands, there was a pink rose. Leaves framed her figure and confirmed the outdoor location. The final picture was to the left of the older woman and portrayed a lovely young woman who also was outside. Gloved hands held a peach, lace edged parasol, which complemented both her complexion and her dress. Her hair was worn in a fancy bun and brown ringlets hung at the sides of her head. Her dress was made in shades of pink like the redhead's outfit in the attic. She wore a maroon caplet that was edged similarly as her parasol and matched her princess cut bodice. The sleeves of the dress were like light pink puffballs with wide ribbons attached. The skirt was a pale, pale pink with green sunburst-like flowers dotting the fabric.

Gracey's voice tore her from her examinations of the room. The stately master walked through one of the eight walls that surrounded Paula. He was not the corpse that adorned the wall above the fireplace, at least not that Paula could see, and he still wore his crazed expression and smirk. Paula cowered against the wall where the young woman's picture hung as Gracey advanced toward her menacingly. When Paula hit the wall, she felt the partition give way slightly as the entrance had before. She did not notice this, as her attention was more focused on Gracey.

"Miss Andersen, it seems that your flight has come to an end, I'm afraid. Now you will share in the same fate that your brother met. It will be a frightfully good ride." His laugh echoed in the room as he disappeared to parts unknown. However, his voice could be heard through the small room as the candles flames flickered even more fanatically.

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as if you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching, or is it your imagination?"

Paula looked around, amazed. The room and the portraits were actually stretching. The picture above her elongated to show that the woman was a tightrope walker that was about to fall victim to an alligator's jaws. The old widow was actually sitting on a tombstone with the words "Rest in Peace, Dear beloved George" inscribed above a bust of a man with a hatchet buried in his marble skull. Across from her, the smug looking man was sitting on the shoulders of two men who both looked increasingly alarmed. The bottommost man was waist-deep in quicksand, or so the sign said. The last portrait of the dignified man stretched to show that he was wearing red and white striped boxer shorts and standing on a keg of dynamite whose fuse was lit. Paula wondered briefly (No pun intended, folks. I promise.) why the man was standing on said keg with his boxers on. Not privy to Paula's musings, Gracey went on with his spiel.

"And consider this dismaying observation. This chamber has no windows and no doors." Paula had realised this when she first entered the room, so it came as no great surprise. "Which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out!" The unseen Gracey laughed a chilling, mocking cackle. "Of course, there's always…my way."

The lights dimmed and Paula looked up. In a hidden cupola above the chamber, lightning flashes where seen through angled, broken windows, whose tattered curtains fluttered and snapped in the storm's monstrous gusts. In the centre was a wooden beam from which a fraying rope hung. At the end of the rope, a noose was tied and fitted around a skeleton's neck. From his tattered clothes and decaying bones, Paula assumed that he had been hanging there for decades. The limp skull turned its leering face to see Paula. A glow, not unlike that of the portrait outside, filled the empty sockets. Paula's scream could probably be heard through out the mansion and its grounds. It was a scream that would have put Fay Wray to shame. The shock of seeing the corpse pushed her further against the wall, this time hitting a small button like panel hidden by the dark woodcarvings. As the room went to pitch black, the panel opened suddenly behind Paula causing her to fall backwards onto a carpeted floor, which muffled her fall. The hidden door slid right back into place, leaving Paula alone in pitch darkness. The candles flickered back to life in the octagonal and Gracey went in for the killing blow, quite literally. Only, he was rather puzzled to find his victim had completely disappeared.

-X-

Paula was equally puzzled and wondered where she was. She seemed to be in a narrow hallway with only one room connecting to it. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the outline of a door a few paces ahead of her and to the right. A greenish glow came from behind the door. Unexpectedly, the door opened, illuminating the hall in green light and a sweet female voice addressed Paula.

"Come in. We have yet to meet."

Paula walked into the room that looked more like a gypsy tent than a room. The door slammed behind her, making her jump. A purple curtain with metallic threads woven in covered the rough wooden door, completely hiding it from human eyes.

"Come in, Miss Andersen, and have a seat."

Paula sat at a chair across from the glowing crystal ball.

"Where are you? I don't se…"

It was then that she noticed what, or who, was in the crystal ball. A beautiful woman's head stared back at the teenager with an amused look on her face. The green smoke inside the crystal distorted the natural colour of her features like the blue aura of the ghosts did. From what she could tell, the woman had black curly hair, and tanned skin. Arched eyebrows made her look very chic and thick lashes made her eyes even more mysterious. Her dark lips shone in the self-illuminated crystal and dark shadow adorned her eyelids. Paula gaped at the head.

"What...who are you? How do you know my name?"

"My dear, I am Madame Leota."


Outtake #2. Yeah, this is totally random, but it was crying out to be shared with the world, so here it goes. Just FYI the original line was 'I'm afraid that your flight is finally finished.' Obviously, I changed it after realising the crazy alliteration.

"I'm afraid that your flight is finally fin…" George fumbled with the last bit of the line. "Sorry, sorry, can we have another go?"

The clapboard comes down and the scene begins again.

Paula cowered against one of the octagonal walls as Gracey advanced toward her menacingly.

"Miss Andersen, I'm afraid that your flight is finagling…" He breaks character. "Did you realise the alliteration when you wrote this? You've got to be kidding me."

"Sorry." PK is frantically scribbling something on a script while the crew snickers. (I really cannot get out of the alliteration.) "Here, try this."

George reads it through a few times and then hands her the paper back. "Okay."

"Okay? Good." She turns to the camera and rolls her eyes jokingly. "Are we set? Right, action!"


What do you think? Tell me in a review. It only takes a few minutes. A special prize to anyone who guesses (correctly) the origin of the painting in the attic! See you next week!