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The crisp wind of autumn swept through the air, picking up dry leaves from the yellowed, stiff grass, nipping at the faces of the three friends that were sitting together on one of the lowest branches of an ancient hazelnut tree. Hazel looked up at the orange-red leaves as they were wrested free from their branches in wake of a gust of wind, fluttering about and fastening themselves in her and her companions’ hair. Sheryl, who was sitting at a precarious distance from the base of the thick branch, didn’t pay any mind to the fiery additions to her chocolate-brown hair as she began to speak. “Halloween is tomorrow,” she remarked.
“And?” Raymond, on the safest bend in the branch, raised an eyebrow as he flicked a leaf out of his wavy blond hair as he responded. “We’re a bit old to be trick-or-treating this year, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Exactly. As freshmen, we shouldn’t be doing childish things like that. So we should do something different this year.”
“Like handing out candy?” Hazel guessed, though she knew that wasn’t what Sheryl had in mind. Sheryl was the kind of person who craved danger and adventure, and she always had been. It was basically what drove her to do everything she did.
“Of course not, that’s boring,” Sheryl scoffed. “I was thinking of something more exciting, like exploring the abandoned mansion on Beaufort Boulevard.”
Raymond paled, the lack of blood in his face making him seem ghostly. “You can’t be serious. Everyone who’s lived in that place died a horrible, gruesome death. It’s haunted .”
“Psh, no it isn’t. Nothing but superstition and ghost stories made up by the crazy townsfolk. And if it is haunted, then that makes things way more interesting.”
“I, for one, am not looking forward to dying young,” Hazel spoke up. “Can’t we just hang out and watch horror movies or something?”
“Come on, Hazel! We can’t squander a chance to make history! We’ll be the first people to be in that house for who knows how long, surely that’s enough reason to get into the paper!” responded Sheryl. There it was, the mention of the local newspaper. Every single time Sheryl brought up doing something stupid or reckless, she reasoned that it could bring them fame. Hazel, frankly, didn’t mind being in the background and out of the spotlight, but she didn’t want to stand in the way of Sheryl’s lifelong dream.
“That’s what you said when we ate spoonfuls of cinnamon for a video. Not only did we not make it to the paper because they have higher standards, my throat hurt for a week afterwards,” Raymond commented resentfully.
“That was four months ago,” Sheryl huffed in response. She pressed her lips together tightly for a moment, as she tended to do in the rare instances where she thought things through. “And this will be the last time.”
“You said that last time,” Hazel rolled her eyes. “The day you keep that promise is the day that Hell freezes over.”
“I’m serious this time!” Sheryl insisted, scowling at her friend.
Hazel didn’t like the expression Sheryl gave her, as if she was going to throttle her if she kept on arguing; giving in was probably wiser.
“Fine, if you say so. I’ll go to the mansion with you if it’ll make you happy,” Hazel sighed. She was probably going to regret this at some point, but that wasn’t anything new.
“You’re dropping it that easily?” Raymond breathed. “But what about the deaths-” Hazel silenced him with a hard look. She wasn’t feeling the greatest about this, she really wasn’t, but she had a feeling that this argument would stretch on for hours without end if she didn’t cut it off right then.
“I’ll come along too,” Raymond finally said, visibly miffed. He had the strongest opinion about the mansion out of the three of them, but Hazel knew that he didn’t like to be left behind. Sometimes she felt bad when she sided with Sheryl, and practically forced him to join them, but she had reasoned that it was his fault giving in in the first place.
“Then it’s settled,” Sheryl grinned, the menace in her gaze vanishing as she spoke in an unnatural, sickeningly sweet tone. “We’ll meet in front of the mansion at 7 pm tomorrow.”
“But that’s at night!” Raymond exclaimed, the dismay etched into his face only deepening. “We won’t be able to see anything at that point, and-”
“Oh, shut up,” she hissed. “You already agreed to this, so stop complaining.” As if to emphasize the finality of the decision, she slid off the branch, shoes crunching on dry leaves as she walked off.
Hazel shifted uneasily on her branch, alone with Raymond. “This is a terrible plan.”
Raymond snorted. “That’s what I’ve been saying. I don’t get why you sided with her.” As he finished the sentence, he carefully climbed down the tree and strode away before Hazel could form a retort. All by herself, she groaned internally, dreading the trip to Beaufort Boulevard.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a black and windy night as Hazel rode her bike to a stop in front of the only mansion on Beaufort Boulevard. How coincidental- Hazel thought as she desperately tried to keep her soaked hair out of her face while the torrential rain continued to relentlessly assault her- that the weather just had to be rainy and dreary, just like in most of the gothic stories she had read. She pulled a small flashlight out from one of her pant pockets, but it did little to illuminate her dark, wet surroundings.
“Where’s Sheryl?” Hazel asked Raymond as the beam of light from her flashlight brought her friend into view. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the glare from the tiny source of light directed at his face.
“I don’t know, but if she doesn’t show up in the next few minutes I’m going home,” Raymond answered, clutching the handle of his umbrella tightly to prevent it from being blown away by a gust of wind.
“She might be on the porch already,” Hazel hypothesized, beginning to trudge towards the shadowy mass that was the mansion looming a few hundred feet ahead. Raymond walked alongside her, the two of them guided by the thin streak of illumination blessed by her flashlight.
“Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?” inquired Raymond, after a few seconds of silence.
“Unlike you, I didn’t check the weather forecast,” Hazel grumbled. “Why didn’t you bring a flashlight?”
“I did. It wasn’t waterproof in the slightest.”
The moment the porch was visible, Hazel ran up ahead to get under the awning, breathing a sigh of relief as she made it to the blissful source of shelter from the rain. While she was wringing the water from her hair, Raymond caught up to her.
“Did you have to leave me alone in the dark?” he griped.
“Sorry, I guess I kind of forgot about you when offered the gift of not being pelted by water,” Hazel responded. Raymond huffed in annoyance at her comment, surveying the area for Sheryl.
“She’s not here, let’s just-” he was cut off as the front door slammed open, Sheryl herself at the entrance.
“Come on in, I checked the place out and it’s fine,” Sheryl said, looking excited and completely neglecting that Raymond looked like he was about to faint from shock.
“You checked it out without us? Then why’d we come in the first place?” Hazel asked.
“Just had to do a few things, don’t worry about it.” Sheryl just stood there, grinning. “Don't just stand there, let’s go!”
“That didn’t really answer anything.” Hazel’s response fell on deaf ears, as she was dragged by the wrist into the suffocating darkness of the mansion along with Raymond.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you trying to give us a heart attack?” Raymond managed to force out as soon as the shock was replaced with irritation. Sheryl ignored him entirely as she pushed the old door shut on its protesting, rusty hinges, kicking up the thick layer of dust on the floor.
Hazel sneezed as dust assaulted her sinuses; it was somehow worse than the rain, sticking to her wet skin and limiting her field of vision by at least a factor of two. “This is not worth it.”
“Don’t fall behind!” Sheryl had already walked deeper into the house, the beam of her own flashlight just barely revealing her location.
“I’ve had enough of this madness and I’m leaving right now,” Raymond declared, stepping behind Hazel towards the exit. Hazel turned around to illuminate his failed attempt to open the door, a much more optimal decision than venturing deeper into the abandoned mansion that Sheryl definitely messed with.
“I- It’s not budging,” he stammered, panic creeping into his voice. “I was right, this place is haunted. We’re so screwed.”
“Let me try. Hold the flashlight, will you?” Hazel handed Raymond the flashlight, shouldering him aside to try to get the door open. Her initial attempt at just turning the doorknob and pushing did not suffice, and as she ran her hands over the edges of the door, she found that a panel of wood was jammed into one of the narrow gaps between the doorframe and the door itself, keeping it from moving easily.
“Why the heck- Raymond, hold the flashlight straight!” Hazel snapped irritably as the light that allowed Hazel to see the door wasn’t directed at her anymore, the darkness enveloping her. She whirled around, to see nothing.
“Raymond?”
Ghosts weren’t real, the house wasn’t haunted, but as many times as Hazel’s frenzied mind tried to reassure her of that fact, she couldn’t calm her pounding heart, force her tense muscles to move, or even take a full breath.
“Hazel? You there?” Sheryl’s voice broke through the dark. She was calm, a sheer contrast to Hazel’s state.
"Y-yeah," Hazel's voice was hoarse, barely audible over the thunderous beating in her chest. “Where’s Raymond? He’s not-” Hazel didn’t want to consider the possibility that one of her best friends was dead. She swallowed the lump in her throat as her voice came back.
“What’s going on?” She wanted to be able to rely on Sheryl right then, but something in her screamed that putting her trust in Sheryl was a terrible idea at the moment. Nevertheless, she was terrified and needed to be near someone to relax her nerves, even if it was the person who got her stuck in this situation. She took a step in the direction where she heard Sheryl’s voice come from.
“Nothing much. We’re just here to get into the paper,” Sheryl replied smoothly, her voice a bit closer. Hazel hesitated, before taking another step.
“Why is everything about the paper?” Some amount of anger seeped through the fear as Hazel whispered into the dust. She moved forward with stronger steps, wanting to find Sheryl right now and give her a piece of her mind, but as she walked, her foot hit something on the ground, and she tripped, hitting the floor, which was slick with a warm liquid. Her already shallow breaths caught in her throat, and as she scrambled to her feet, her barely audible breathing was replaced with loud, panicked pants as she began to hyperventilate.
“Sheryl! I think-” Hazel couldn’t finish the sentence. Dread immediately overwhelmed the spark of anger she had moments ago. She was going to die, wasn’t she? But she didn’t want to, she had so much to live for, so much to do instead of perishing here. Tears welled up in her eyes.
A firm hand gripped Hazel’s shoulder, and a single tear trailed down her cheek as a soft swishing sound heralded her death.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sheryl smoothed out the creases in her skirt as she sat across from the investigator she had requested to see. Just as planned, the bodies were found, discovered after Raymond’s parents went to look for him. Sheryl had considered staying at the scene, make things easier for herself and the authorities, but it was better to add some mystery, a hint of the unknown, so that the reveal would be just a tad bit more shocking. She’d be known to the world.
She leaned forward over the table, inhaling deeply before exhaling. “Will this go to the press?”
“Depends on what we discover from this,” the investigator replied. “The recorder is running, make your statement.”
Sheryl smiled slightly, and made her mark on the world.