Fresh Hell

 

Checking up on my friend’s house while he was on vacation, I did a quick walk through, tweaking the thermostat, flushing the toilets.

As I was poking through the fridge for expired items, movement caught the corner of my eye. Something white on the kitchen floor. Before I could focus my attention on it, it had already slipped through the archway.

I followed to investigate, but it was no longer there. Perhaps it was my imagination.

No, there it was again! Going into the bedroom. It looked like the hem of someone’s dress.

Panic gripped me by the neck. There was no one else here. Not one sound but the abnormally audible ticking of the kitchen clock.

Hesitantly, I followed it into the bedroom.

And just saw the edge of it going into the bathroom.

There was nowhere left for it to go now.

Bracing myself for… I don’t know what, my hands shaking, I forced my weak legs to follow after it.

I rounded the corner and saw a woman in a white wedding dress standing before the mirror. She was taking down her old-fashioned hairstyle, removing hairpin after hairpin from her chestnut locks.

I blinked, and she was gone.

Before, I was shaking from fear. Now I was shivering from the unnatural cold that sank straight into my bones. I could see my breath.

Nope.

Rushing back through the house, I grabbed my purse and left through the front door, pausing to lock it behind me with trembling hands. I’d accidentally left my water bottle in there, but I wasn’t going back.

I texted my friend. “You don’t need a housesitter,” I typed. “Someone is already staying here. You can keep your $50!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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