The downpour beat against the windows as though attempting to break into the tranquil safe-haven of Emma Harris' little, comfortable home. She sat at her work area, absentmindedly following the edge of her espresso cup while the shine of her PC screen cast a delicate light all over. The words she'd composed before at night were obscured together; her center broke by the chewing feeling that something was off-base.
Her telephone hummed, breaking the quiet. Emma bounced marginally, a chill running down her spine as she looked at the screen. No guest ID. The number was new, and briefly, she considered allowing it to go to a phone message. In any case, something somewhere inside encouraged her to reply.
"Hi?" She spoke carefully, her voice scarcely over a murmur.
Briefly, there was only static on the opposite end. Then, at that point, a voice—a low, gravelly murmur—sliced through the commotion.
"Emma Harris?"
She gulped hard. "Who is this?"
"You want to come to the Blackwood Chateau. Presently."
The words lingered palpably, heavy and dismal. Emma's heart hustled as she grasped the telephone more tightly.
"Why? What is it that you need?"
The voice laughed dimly. "All will be uncovered in time. To remain alive, you'll be there quickly. Alone."
The line went dead, leaving Emma gazing at the telephone in dismay. She realized she ought to call the police, yet something held her back. The voice had sounded familiar, but she was unable to put it down. What's more, for what reason did they need her at the Blackwood Chateau, everything being equal?
Recollections of the old, deserted bequest streaked through her brain. Everybody in Maplewood knew the narratives—the gossipy tidbits about hauntings or of individuals vanishing suddenly. No sane person would go there around evening time. Be that as it may, the desperation in the guest's voice had left her with no decision.
Emma snatched her jacket and keys, her brain dangling with questions. As she ventured out into the blustery evening, she had no clue about whether this was just the start of a night she could always remember.