The bet

It was the creaking of the ancient floorboards that caused my breathing to falter. Panic, like an icy nail spread down the contours of my spine. Fearing the worst, I cracked open one eye. The weak morning light broke through the yellow curtains casting the room in a sickly glow. Was there someone there? Something?

I lifted my head from the pillow and scanned the room. My eyes stopped on a shadow by the wardrobe. My breath haltered as I peered at it. Could something be hiding there? Watching me?

Relief flooded through my veins like sunshine through a window. No. It was just a shadow! Rubbing my aching eyes, I sat up. A smile crept onto my face. I’d done it! I’d won the bet. I stretched out, wriggling my toes. I could just imagine the look on Kat’s face when she found she’d lost! Thirteen fucking hours in a haunted manor!

Stretching, I reached over to my phone on the bedside table. Dead. But this place had been abandoned while the occupants still lit their dark nights with lamps of oil and I’d spent half the night filming little soliloquies so I could prove to Kat that I hadn’t chickened out.

“There’s no way on this Earth that you’d spend ten minutes in that manor.” she’d said, a sneer on her face. “You have nightmares watching ‘Goosebumps.”

It was true. I avoided anything even slightly gory or scary. With my gin fuelled courage, I’d accepted her challenge. The loser would have to take the other out for afternoon tea in town. I may be a total chicken when it comes to blood and guts, but I will never, ever lose a bet.

I’d been shaking half the night. I was certain I’d seen glittering eyes boring into me, despising me for invading their sanctuary. Moments when I sensed the wisp of a frozen breath on the back of my neck. I’d heard the stories about this manor. Well, we all have, haven’t we? The tales of blood curdling screams on the darkest nights. The mythical children who came seeking lost belongings and who were never seen again. I’d sat up, wide eyed, sweeping the vacant rooms with my torch. I thought I’d heard footsteps. I found tears racing down my cheeks when a sound like an old music box was carried faintly on the wind as a bell tolled midnight. At some point, exhaustion carried me away from the lurking monsters and into a restless sleep.

 I pulled my clothes on, hurriedly pushed my things back into my bag and decided to take in the rooms in the daylight while I waited for Kat to rescue me. I silently cursed myself for allowing my phone to run out.

The manor looked forlorn in the morning light, like a fading Hollywood starlet losing her fragile grip on fame. Pigeons fluttered through the rafters, annoyed with my intrusion. I shuddered as I gazed at the thick curtains of webs wafting in the chill breeze.

 My footsteps echoed as I slowly made my way across the threadbare carpet on the landing. I hesitated at a half open door. My eyes wide, I peered through the gap. Before me lay a long gallery, the deep oak walls adorned with solemn portraits, cavorting horses and pale landscapes long destroyed and converted into towns. I wandered down the gallery, wondering why these treasures had been abandoned.

 I found myself stopping before an imposing carved fireplace. I dragged my finger across the mantlepiece, leaving a thick imprint in the grey dust. I wondered what painting deserved the pride of place and wrapping my sleeve around my hand, began to rub away the years of neglect. The surface was shiny and smooth. Not a painting I realised, but a mirror. I rubbed harder, smiling at my reflection, the messy hair and the dark marks beneath my eyes. Behind me, in the shadows, were the eerie reflections of the portraits. Their eyebrows furrowed as they glared at me. I found my gaze wander from each pale face to the next.

  My breath left me as a scrap of mist. Rubbing the goose bumps that had suddenly prickled on my arms, convincing myself that the temperature hadn't really fallen, I found my pulse stall. Another pair of eyes were scowling at me from across the gallery. Hollow, as dark as ink, set in a face of pale blue, her limp hair clinging to those ashen cheeks. She wore a plain blue gown, Victorian perhaps. But her shoulders, her shoulders were rising and falling as she scrutinised me.

 I tried to scream, but the sound caught in my ever-constricting throat. I spun around, willing my legs to give me the strength to escape, but I found myself alone. I looked around, my eyes wild. No one. Nothing.

Taking tentative steps, I walked across to the portraits. A young girl, in a baby blue dress sat with her hands neatly folded on her lap. She stared out of her wooden frame, accepting the knowledge that she only had a sliver of life left inside her. Raising my trembling finger, I traced the prickly outline of her icy white face. I felt the texture of the paint, could sense the contours of the brush strokes.

 I grinned.

There really is no such thing as ghosts I thought as I heard the crunch of gravel, the hum of the engine. I looked out of the window, relieved to see Kat’s black corsa sweep up the driveway.

I raced down the stairs, flew through the hallway and squeezed myself through the gap in the boarded-up doorway.

“No way!” Kat shouted, throwing open the passenger side door. I sat down, unable to stall the laughter that spilled out of me.

“I did it!” I said, trying to control the shuddering, after all, I was safe now. “You owe me big time Kat!”

 She shook her black curls and laughed. A sudden rumble from my stomach reminded me how long it had been since I’d eaten.

I scanned the car for the charger and found it dangling by my leg.

“I’m starving. McDonalds, please.” I said, plugging in my phone and switching it on.

“So, tell me all about it. Did anything spooky happen?”

“Just wait till you see!” I replied, swiping through the apps so I could show her my little repertoire of Blair Witch style videos.

 I sighed deeply as Kat drove us up the overgrown driveway and through the rusted iron gateway. A smile lifted the corner of my lips as I watched the manor, decreasing and fading in the wing mirror.

I set my focus back onto my phone. Kat wouldn’t believe what I’d been though unless I showed her the evidence. My finger pressed on gallery, hovered above the screen ready to select the scariest film. I felt the blood flood out of my face as I checked the photos. My fingers trembled as I swiped through the final ones taken.

“So?” Kat asked, but my words refused to form. My mouth was dry as I stared at photo after photo of me sleeping in the manor, my dark hair spilled over the pillow, my eyes closed as I’d slumbered serenely. I felt the gentle whisper of a frozen breath against my cheek.