The Dare
The sun dipped below the jagged treeline of Raven Hollow, painting the sky a bruised purple as five figures trudged through the fog-choked woods. Liam adjusted his letterman jacket, his sneakers crunching leaves with a rhythm that matched his steady heartbeat—calm, controlled, like he was about to step onto the basketball court. Beside him, Maya clutched her sketchbook, her dark braids swinging as she scanned the shadows with wide, curious eyes. Ethan lagged behind, earbuds dangling, his fingers tapping furiously on his phone screen. Sofia bounced ahead, her ponytail swishing, a grin splitting her face despite the chill. Noah brought up the rear, nose buried in a paperback, muttering about how they'd all regret this.
"Blackwood Manor," Sofia announced, stopping at the edge of a clearing. Her voice carried that fierce optimism that could drag anyone into her orbit. "One hour inside, no chickening out. Who's got the guts?"
The estate loomed before them, a gothic relic clawing at the dusk. Its spires twisted like gnarled fingers, windows black and hollow, the kind of place that swallowed light whole. Ivy strangled the stone walls, and the front porch sagged under decades of neglect. Every kid in Raven Hollow knew the stories—cursed land, a witch's execution, vanishings no one talked about. Liam rolled his eyes.
"It's just a creepy old house," he said, crossing his arms. "You're all hyping it up for nothing."
"Then lead the way, hotshot," Maya teased, nudging him. Her voice was soft but edged with a challenge. Liam smirked and strode forward, the others trailing like moths to his flame.
The double doors groaned as he shoved them open, hinges screaming into the silence. Dust swirled in the beam of Sofia's flashlight, revealing a grand foyer that time had chewed apart. A chandelier hung crookedly, crystals glinting like teeth. The air smelled of rot and something sharper—metallic, almost alive. Noah coughed, shutting his book.
"This place is a biohazard," he muttered. "We're breathing in, like, a century of mold."
"Quit whining," Ethan said, not looking up from his phone. "No signal anyway. Might as well enjoy the vibes."
Sofia spun in a circle, her light dancing over peeling wallpaper and a staircase that spiraled into darkness. "It's perfect. Imagine the stories locked in these walls."
"Or the spiders," Maya added, stepping toward a cracked mirror propped against the wall. Her reflection stared back, distorted in the fractured glass. She frowned. "Was that there before?"
"What?" Liam asked, joining her. A handprint smudged the dust—five fingers, too small to be any of theirs. His stomach flipped, but he forced a laugh. "Nice try, Sof. You sneak that in?"
"Not me!" Sofia protested, hands on hips. "Maybe it's the ghost saying hi."
The group chuckled, the sound brittle in the vast space. Then the lights flickered—not the flashlight, but the chandelier overhead. A dull hum buzzed through the room, and the crystals rattled. Ethan's phone screen went black.
"Uh, guys?" he said, tapping it uselessly. "This thing's fully charged."
"Probably just bad wiring," Liam said, though his pulse quickened. He glanced at Noah, who'd gone pale, clutching his book like a shield.
"Old houses don't flicker like that without power," Noah whispered. "This place has been abandoned since—"
A faint sound cut him off—a melody, soft and lilting, like a child humming. It drifted from the upper floors, threading through the creaks and groans of the manor. Sofia froze, her grin faltering.
"Okay, who's doing that?" she asked, voice tight.
No one answered. The humming grew louder, curling around them like smoke. Maya gripped her sketchbook, her knuckles white. "It's… pretty, right? In a messed-up way."
"Pretty creepy," Ethan muttered, shoving his dead phone into his pocket. He grabbed a candlestick from a dusty table, holding it like a club. "Let's find it."
Liam hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. Upstairs. But if it's a prank, I'm punching someone."
They climbed the staircase, each step groaning under their weight. The air thickened, pressing against their chests. At the landing, the humming stopped—replaced by a low growl that vibrated the floorboards. Shadows stretched along the hall, too long and sharp to match their own.
"Still think it's wiring?" Maya whispered, her breath fogging in the sudden cold.
Before Liam could answer, a door at the hall's end slammed open, revealing a glimpse of warped portraits lining the walls—faces with eyes that seemed to follow them. Sofia yelped, dropping her flashlight. It rolled, casting wild beams, and landed on something etched into the wood: a glowing sigil, pulsing faintly, like a heartbeat.
"What the hell is that?" Ethan demanded, stepping back.
Noah knelt, tracing it with a trembling finger. "It's old. Pre-Christian, maybe. I've seen it in—"
A scream tore through the manor—not one of theirs. It was raw, guttural, echoing from below. The sigil flared brighter, and the mirror downstairs shattered, glass raining across the foyer. Liam grabbed Maya's arm, pulling her toward the stairs.
"Out! Now!" he barked.
They stumbled down, hearts hammering, as the chandelier swung wildly above. The front doors wouldn't budge—locked, though they'd left them open. Ethan pounded on them, cursing, while Sofia scooped up her flashlight, its beam shaking in her grip.
"Guys, look!" she gasped, pointing.
Footprints burned into the floor—bare, clawed, leading back upstairs. The growling returned, closer now, and the lullaby wove through it, mocking them. Liam's skepticism cracked, adrenaline flooding his veins.
"We're not alone," Noah said, voice barely audible.
The lights flickered again, plunging them into darkness. When they flared back, a shadowy figure stood at the top of the stairs—tall, impossibly thin, eyes glinting like embers. It didn't move. It just watched.
"Run!" Maya screamed.
They bolted for a side window, smashing it with the candlestick. Glass sprayed as they tumbled into the fog, legs pumping, not stopping until the manor was a silhouette behind them. The night swallowed their gasps, but the lullaby followed, faint and relentless, sinking into their bones.
Back at Liam's house, they collapsed on the porch, panting, staring at each other. No one spoke. The sigil burned in Liam's mind, and he knew—deep down, in a place he couldn't shake—that this wasn't over….