Three Days

“What do you mean, you both are going on a business trip?”

“Honey, you have got to listen. This is for a multi-million dollar deal. This will be the first and last time, I promise.”

In the 14 years I’ve been on the face of the Earth, my parents have never left me alone for more than a few minutes. Now, they’re going to be leaving me for 3 whole days. 

“You can do it, honey. Look, we’ll even hire a babysitter for you.”

I excuse myself and run upstairs. It takes me a full minute to make it to my bedroom—running through the painting adorned hallways—running for what seems like miles. 

Curse them and their large house. So what if they lose the deal by staying home? They’re already so rich.

The next day, however, a mound of bags sit at the end of the grand staircase, ready to be loaded into the limousine. Mom and Dad are in their room, sorting out some last-minute papers. 

My feet engulf themselves in the silk of the Persian rug, and that soothes me down a little.

“Why?”

“Honey, you’ve got to understand,” my mom says, rummaging through her handbag. 

My dad pats me on the shoulder and they both give me a hug. 

“It’s only for three days. We even have a babysitter. She’ll be coming by in about an hour.”

They give me a final goodbye kiss and head out.

The doors clang shout behind the, and the sound echoes throughout the great hall. 

The first order of business is to quickly grab a snack from the kitchen, and then I sprint back to my room. I lock my door behind me and collapse on the bed, breathing heavily. 

The truth is, I’m scared to be alone. The house seems so scary and intimidating, and I can’t know what’s lurking around the corners. Mom has never liked servants and butlers, so I don’t even have anyone to keep my company. 

I shiver. The house feels so empty. Who knows what can be lurking around here? 

I know, it’s silly for a 14—year—old, but… you can never be too careful.

For the first time, I wish my parents weren’t so rich. 

And then the bell rings, making my blood run cold. I steel myself and control my breathing. It’s probably just the babysitter. 

I head down, peer through the peephole, and then open the door. 

“Hello! How you doing,” booms a cheerful voice. She puts an emphasis on the word you—probably from the upstate. 

I look up at her. She towers over me, and an assortment of necklaces, rings, and bracelets shine at me. They dangle like snakes and clunk when they hit each other. 

And then from behind her round—frame glasses, her wide eyes peer at me, blinking rapidly. 

“Hello,” I say, timidly. 

“Hello!”

She lets herself in and walks up the stairs, suitcase in hand. I don’t offer to carry her dusty and half-open suitcase. 

She comes down after half an hour, no doubt after freshening up in one of the numerous suites. 

“So, want me to fix you a snack?”

“It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

She pouts for a moment but grabs a book—The Haunting of Hill House—and heads to the den. 

I grab a few Oreos and head to my room, passing the den on the way. I get a glimpse of a tattoo—a skull—on her neck. 

Leave some Oreos on my desk for later, as I don’t want to go near the sitter again. She creeps me out. 

I try to pass time throughout the day and try to stay away from the sitter as much as possible, but that is inevitable. She wanders through the corridors of the house, and I once saw her with a tape measure. 

I finally muster up the courage to ask her what her name is, during dinner. 

“Shadow.”

Her name itself sends a shiver down my spine. 

“That’s… an interesting name.”

“Yeah.”

I take a spoonful of the bland macaroni. I try to not make eye contact with Shadow, and she doesn’t either, probably because she keeps whipping her head in various directions and muttering to herself. 

How peculiar. 

Before long, I hear my spoon clinking against the bowl. How did my food disappear so fast? I swiftly place my bowl in the sink and leave the room.

I head back to my room and to my surprise, my Oreos are gone. What? Did Shadow come into my room? I bet she doesn’t even know where my room is in the labyrinth of halls. 

Once again, my skin tingles and pores start to rise on my arms. I lock the door and pull up the blankets. Today was too long of a day.

Sunlight peaks through my blinds the next day and makes me feel better. Okay. Only two more days. 

I head out into the hallway and am greeted by shadow, who is measuring out the walls. 

“What are you doing?”

“Oh. It’s nothing. Just planning out some things for my house.”

Why would she be planning things for her house in mine? I brush it off and go make myself some breakfast. 

While Shadow remains upstairs, I dare myself to take a peek at her book. 

I open one page and all I see is just nonsense about ghosts. Is she crazy? I don’t know. Just two more days. 

I pass time like yesterday, trying to stay as far away from Shadow as possible. I see her roaming the various corridors and checking out the bedrooms. I’m fine with that, just as long as she doesn’t go into mine. 

She is highly careless, though. She always leaves cabinets of the kitchen open, as spills food all over the table. I see some tipped over vases and crooked paintings in corridors she inspects. 

Meanwhile, she continues to whip her head around furiously during our meals, and I’m becoming more and more afraid of her. She’s been acting more and more hostile towards me now and snaps at me whenever I make a sound. I wish she would go away. Okay. Just 2 more days. Today is almost over.

I head to bed that night, again feeling scared about Shadow, half expecting her to jump out and scare me. Why didn’t I think of hiring a bodyguard with all the money my parents have?

I get comfy in my bed and wake up suddenly to my door creaking open. 

My breathing intensifies. I shiver and feel cold. 

I peek over the edge of my blanket, expecting to see Shadow with a knife in her hand, coming towards me. 

Instead, a transparent foot crosses the doorway. And then the body follows. 

I gasp. It’s a...ghost. 

I blink rapidly, hoping that I’m not hallucinating. No way. Ghosts aren’t real! 

I hide under my covers hoping that it's all a dream and that the ghost will be gone by the time I wake up. 

But sure enough, a finger lightly prods me on the shoulder. 

“Hello there,” the ghost softly says. 

I yelp, but his hand clasps itself over my mouth. It’s cold but warm at the same time and feels like slime. It feels like it’s not there, but it is. 

“Can you see me alright? This is the first time I’ve ever shown my true form to a mortal.”

I nod. 

“Okay, look. We ain’t got much time, as Her Highness Shadow will detect me soon.”

What does he mean, Her Highness Shadow?

“She’s planning to create—”

Before he can finish his sentence, he warps way into a vortex. And he’s gone. 

I tremble with fear. What is going on? I try to close my eyes and sleep, persuading myself that this was all a bad dream. 

The next morning though, a hand once again stops me from heading out into the hallway. I can just about make out the figure of the ghost—his semi-transparent silhouette. 

This time, I know better than to yelp. Shadow is probably close by. I close my door, lock it, and head back to my bed. 

I can just about make out the form of the ghost and can see his horrified face. 

“Shadow sensed me last night. We do not have much time.”

What is this ghost and what does he want? Is he even real or am I hallucinating?

“Listen, Shadow wants to make this the headquarters of the ghost world.”

With that sentence, the ghost sits back, triumphant. What does he mean?

“Are you saying there’s a whole ghost world?”

“Yes,” the ghost says, looking at me like I’m oblivious. “What do you think all those ghost sightings are? And sorry about the food. I was getting hungry.”

Oh, my. A whole ghost world? I’m barely able to stop myself from running from this ghost, but a world of ghosts, no doubt thousands of them? Of course, that’s why the food was going missing. So maybe he is real.

“Your home is large enough to be the headquarters. You need to stop her.”

And with those last few words, he vanishes. 

He leaves me baffled. What am I supposed to do? Is this some type of prank? Or is he real? 

I head down, ignoring what he says, but thinking about his words. I brush them off and join Shadow at the table. 

This time, however, she doesn’t mutter and whip her head around. She stays still, and I can feel her eyes on me. I dare not to look up, scared that I might see my life flash before my eyes. She’s the queen of ghosts? If she is, I should be truly terrified. And I am. 

I leave as quickly as I can, and head to my room, the only safe place. Just one more day.

After some time of reflecting on the ghost, I hear some music and chanting from downstairs. What could that be? 

I quietly open the door—which doesn’t squeak due to its extremely oiled hinges—and tiptoe downstairs. And there, at the landing of the grand staircase, sits Shadow. 

She’s chanting rapidly and has some weird object on the ground in front of her. I can’t decipher her language, but a bad feeling sparks itself in my body. 

What is she doing? Curiosity gets the better of me and I crouch and watch, seeing if anything happens. I should have called the police on her or something. I should have trusted my gut’s feelings about her. 

After a few minutes, she stops chanting. She raises her hands and forms them into fists. 

Suddenly, I’m knocked off my feet. A huge portal appears in the air, swirling. I stare in shock. What is going on?

Then, one by one, ghosts start coming through.

They’re more solidified than the ghost that visited me, and they come in, streaming in tens at a time. 

I panic. They start spreading everywhere, heading into the various rooms. Shadow tilts her head back and laughs like a maniac, and all the ghosts bow to her. 

I run back to my room, and to my surprise, it’s already occupied. A young-looking ghost stares back at me, his eyes widening in surprise. I take advantage of his surprise by throwing a book at him, but all it does is go through him. 

And then I have an idea. I grab the vacuum cleaner in my closet and turn it on. The ghost advances, going for my head. I point the hose extension at him and he goes through it, pulled in by the suction. 

I grin, triumphant that I defeated him. But my victory is short-lived. Hundreds of more ghosts come through the portal, laughing hysterically. Among them stands Shadow, looking like she has conquered the world. Maybe she has. 

Determined to get these ghosts out of here, I turn on the vacuum and suck in as many as I can. They wail and get sucked in, but even more, are coming towards me. 

The vacuum starts to shake, as the ghosts inside try to get out. I try to make my way to Shadow, who has now become more and more transparent and has become a ghost. Her tiara and robes make her look like a queen—of ghosts through. 

I can feel the vacuum’s power subsiding while it tries to cram in more ghosts. My arms hurt.

“Stop!” yells Shadow. 

She makes her way towards me, and with a flick of her hands, makes the vacuum cleaner explode, freeing all the ghosts. 

“I had to deal with you soon. Too troublesome. But I must say, thank you for the house. It is simply beautiful.”

“You're never going to take over, Shadow,” I say, mustering some courage. 

“This is my home. Ghosts don’t belong here. Get out.”

Shadow, once again, laughs like a maniac. 

“Really? Let’s see what you can do about that.”

And then, everybody freezes when the great door’s handles begin the turn.

“Hello, honey! We’re back,” my mom shouts. 

“Mom! Dad! Help! There are ghosts in the house!”

But they continue to bring in their luggage, oblivious to me and the ghosts. 

“You think you can call them? They can’t hear you. Only the Queen—I—can talk among the ghosts.”

“I’m not one of you.”

“Are you sure about that? Look down.”

To my horror, I look down and see through myself. I’m transparent. I’m a ghost. I try to run towards my mom and dad, but I can’t move. And then everything slows down. Shadow snaps her fingers, and my parents collapse, unmoving, onto the floor. 

I yell and scream out of agony until I blackout. The last thing I hear is Shadow’s maniacal laughter.