Melinda Gordon felt fear. The kind of fear that bubbles up in your stomach and won't go away. She was in her own house except she couldn't find her son, Aiden, or her husband. All she could hear over the sound of her thumping heart were loud footsteps descending down the stairs.
The first thing she saw was the knife. The man holding it walked robotically down the stairs. She was frozen, unable to move. An older man with a thick, dark mustache was advancing towards her, his sick smile unmistakable.
She was stuck to her spot like glue, her mind telling her legs to run, run, run, but her legs ignoring the simple command. He advanced, faster and faster, until she could feel his hot breath against her skin. And then, as if in slow motion, he raised the knife.
"Melinda!" a familiar voice said urgently, his wife sitting up, startled, after finally waking up. She was sweaty and panting but she welcomed Jim's arms around her like a life line.
"Where's Aiden?" she asked after telling Jim what had happened in her dream, worried that she had woken her son up.
"He's at a friend's house, remember?"
"Yeah, it's just... I don't know. Something doesn't feel right." She looked over to the window, the curtains blocking her from seeing out.
Jim's concern on his face was difficult to hide. This business his wife worked on - not the antique one, obviously, but the ghost one - always posed it's dangers. He didn't like it, but who was he to stop her?
"Get some sleep, okay? You can try to find your ghost tomorrow. And be careful."
She nodded, laying back down, but right before she closed her eyes a man materialized in front of her. It was not the man with the mustache from her dream. No, this man was younger and clean-shaven. He spoke, his voice deep, before disappearing. And his words gave Melinda chills: "If I can't have her, then no one can."