A Flash in the Pan

 Wade saw the house's roofline and hiked along the forest's edge. It was ten minutes until 12:00 noon when he walked past it initially, but the tall spires and darkened stained glass windows' Gothic look weren't to be ignored. He'd never seen an actual Gothic mansion before—only what he'd seen in movies and knew about from what he read in books. The house piqued his interest, and Wade, without thinking about the possibilities of anything untoward, quickened his pace toward the front door.

He stepped onto the porch with a high, double-arched ceiling and noticed a broken window and shards strewn across the porch floor. He wondered why someone would try to get out and if the person got out.

He grabbed the steel doorknob; it felt cold in his hand. He tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge. As he was about to leave, the door opened wide, and a gust of wind pushed him into the house. When the door slammed, it sounded like the final nail in a coffin. 

He stood in the foyer, which was lit with candles throughout. He heard squeaky floorboards and low, torturous moans. There was an unexplainable sense of someone watching him as the candles flickered.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder, and a female voice whispered his name. He turned to see a woman. Her voice was soft, and the floor-length gown was a deep, Manik red velvet.

"You look like you're going to a ball," he said. Her pinned blonde updo off her neckline showed her pearl necklace and matching earrings. 

"We're going to a ball." She giggled. Her powdered cheeks and ruby-red lipstick captivated Wade. "I'm Sophie. I've been waiting for you. Ready?" She took Wade by the hand. 

"You've been waiting for me? What do you mean? You don't even know me. How do you know my name? What the hell's going on?"

"Precisely."

"I don't want to go to a ball. I came here to look around and see what's inside this place." 

"Oh, you'll see in good time. Trust me." She tugged on his shirt, and they ascended a few stairs. They stopped when a book dropped. 

Wade picked it up and read the spine. "Thirteen Ghosts." Old portraits of the dead and eerie landscape paintings hung on the staircase walls, laden with cobwebs and dust. 

"Take this bag to keep the book in while we move forward to the ball," she said, handing him a bag. 

His mind raced through the Gothic horror stories he'd read. He remembered repeatedly reading about how appearances were sometimes deceiving and how reality oftentimes can be far scarier than fiction. He wondered about Sophie—was she a rose with thorns? Regret over his decision to investigate the house fueled his desire to flee. A shadow flickered at the corner of his eye. He caught a woody scent that lingered in the air. Tobacco smoke?

A thunderous voice rattled the house. The walls appeared to be waltzing. A spine-tingling fear shot through his body. The voice taunted them with an eerie version of an old song meant to lure children out of hiding.

"Sophie, Wa-de, come out, come out, wherever you are." Terrified, Wade's teeth chattered. Sweat dripped down his back, pooling at the waistband of his underwear. His body temperature rose like mercury on a mid-July scorcher.

"Who's that? How does he know my name? Sophie, what's going on?"

"Don't worry about him. We need to keep moving forward. Your tuxedo is in the bedroom on the left.” She looked into his eyes. Wade jerked his head back, focusing on Sophie's appearance. "Besides Wade, some things are on a need-to-know basis." 

She grabbed Wade's hand, and they climbed the stairs. They entered the room off the landing to the right. 

"Wade, come on." She pulled him along, leading him to a particular stack of books in the back of the room. She went through the books and into the maze. 

Wade stopped short. “I’m out of here.” He heads for the stairs. He thought he heard Sophie gasp from somewhere within the wall. Wade jumped from the landing on the run to hurl himself down the stairs. 

Think Wade. You've got to get to the door. Run. He kept his eye on the front door; it seemed so close. He ran faster to no avail. He realized he was no closer to the door. Now he understood why his grandmother said, "Your friend's running in a bushel basket, always moving but getting nowhere." Wade looked at the stairs. He had only taken two steps from the top of the landing. He held his head, moaned, and slid down the wall. He put his back against the wall and slid into a seated position. He waited for his fear to subside. 

In his anger, he knocked the column of books over and found a narrow door behind it. It opened, and he squeezed through. Inside the constricted walls lit only by torches, Wade yelled for Sophie in a loud, aggravated tone.

"Sophie! Are you here? Answer me. Why can’t I get down the stairs? How can you do this to me?" Wade shouted down the torch-lit hallway. " It feels like the walls are closing in on me. Are you trapped here, too?" 

His eyes caught frightening shadows in the gloomy corridor, drawing closer to him. As he searched the walls, looking for something that might help him protect himself, he noticed goggles in the wall and rats running in and out of them. He smelled a familiar fragrance, and he turned and saw Sophie by his side. 

"Wade, aren't you adorable? Especially when you're passionate about something. Yes. It's true; the stairs do that to everyone who has been on them at one time or another. And, yes, I do live here; this is my home now. I couldn't leave with you if I wanted to. But enough talk of this; let's head to the ball." She smiled at him. "We have a dance to get to."

"Sophie, I don't have time for your ball. I'm still working on a way out of this place. Trust me, Sophie; I know plenty of dances, but my priority is finding a way out. Now, about the book that dropped." Before Wade could say anything more, another book dropped. "The Haunting." His nerves jumbled, and he tasted pipe tobacco. Sophie picked up the book, slipped it into the bag, and covered her ears. 

"Listen, Wade, just keep collecting the books and dropping them into the bag; let me worry about everything else, okay?” She said. “Right now, I suggest we keep heading toward the ball."

"No, show me how to get out!" Wade said as he panted like a caged feral animal. 

"To survive the voice, we must arrive at the gala." Sophie grimaced. The two ran until Wade's adrenaline was exhausted, then sat on the hardwood floor. 

"Why's he chasing us?" Wade said.

"I owe him books and overdue fees. But he wants something else from me, and I don't want to give it to him. I don't know what he wants from you. But Wade, I don't like trouble—suffice it to say if he catches us, we'll have to give him whatever he wants." 

"Well, I'm not giving him anything. I'll take my chances with him at a man-to-man meeting." 

"Choose your words cautiously, and mind what you wish for." Her breath puffed out as the temperature dropped to 25 °F. Wade's teeth chattered as a shiver ran through the hair on the back of his neck and down his backbone. 

They ran to keep Wade warm more than anything else, but they still aimed to reach the ball. They stopped when the next book dropped. 

"Why is this happening? I'm freezing?" Wade said through his blue lips as he hopped from foot to foot, shivering aloud. He squeezed Sophie in a bear hug. The realization wrapped around him like a twisted sheet wraps a tortured soldier in a night of terror. "I wish this book-dropping would stop! I'm nuts over trying to figure out why it's happening. And now, you expect me to run from this guy? Someone I've never met when I don't know what he wants from me?" 

Wade stopped talking to pick up another book. "The Uninvited," he said aloud. "Why this book?" He thought as he added it to the bag and saw bright lights over a door down the deep, dark corridor. 

Sophie shrieked with delight. "Aaaaah! Wade, we're here. At last, I'll get my dance." She led him to a well-lit doorway with torches over a sign overtop: "Gala Ball." 

The ballroom's wheat-coloured gold theme mesmerized them, leaving them breathless and speechless due to its overwhelming grandeur and opulence. Its vaulted ceilings had scalloped edging and painted artwork. 

"See those archway entries? This room is something else," Wade said. His eyes fell on the decorative inserts and sconces that hugged the high walls, and he suddenly recognized how small and plain he appeared. 

"Look, they even glossed the hardwood, parquet floor for us," Sophie said. "Would you look at the gold leaf and scrollwork on the columns around the room? We'll be dancing with each of them soon," she smiled with a wide grin. 

"After our dance, maybe we could climb the spiral staircase and see the place from one of those curved observation balconies," Wade suggested, pointing to the second floor. He grabbed two flutes of champagne with their golden bubbles that rose to the top of the glass. They toasted each other and took a sip. Elegant floral arrangements and sprays were on tables around the room, covering the foul, stale air. "I've never felt so important and out of place at the same time before," Wade said as he looked down at his clothes and shoes. 

"Nonsense. You look great to me. Put the bag of books down so we can foxtrot?" She pointed to the floor. 

“Yes, the music called for the foxtrot. Do you know how to foxtrot?" Wade asked. 

"No, do you?" Sophie said, dejected. She looked at her feet. 

"Yes. I do. You know how to waltz?” Wade said as a joke.

“Yes, don’t be silly.” She said.

"There isn't much difference between the waltz and the foxtrot. It’s in the timing: the foxtrot is 4/4, the waltz is 3/4. If you already know how to waltz, learning the foxtrot is just a matter of rhythm. You'll see. I’ll lead you with my arms and legs; mirror me with your opposite arm and leg." He led the dancing, and she followed. They danced to the music beneath the candlelit crystal chandeliers spiralling down from the ceiling, illuminating the shimmering golden walls and parquet floor. 

"It's like we're dancing on a golden sea. Such elaborate opulence—all for us.” She giggled. Wade pulled her into him as they faced each other, their bodies pressed together, stopping at the top of the breast bone. His heartbeat was like a woodpecker pecking wood. He swayed left, and she swayed right. They stepped in a feather finish to the three-step slow foxtrot, their legs moving in synch as they shadowed one another with opposites. Their opposite arms outstretched together, maintaining a line of centre. The other hand rested on their shoulders. They glided across the floor and passed a full-length mirror; Wade thought he saw only shadows. He looked again. He saw himself but wasn’t sure what he saw other than Sophie. Horror ran through his body like a cheetah and remained inside, stuck like a sloth that weighed him down. He was speechless. 

The music stopped. The sweet smell of pipe tobacco wafted through the room.

And then the voice bellowed, "Leave the ballroom." 

"He knows where we are? How? Does he sound agitated to you?" Wade held his closed fists to his forehead; sweat rings emerged under his armpits and around his shirt's neckline. "I have a bad feeling about this guy. What is he after me for? One thing's for sure: I am done running," he said as he picked up the bag.

The voice echoed throughout the ballroom. "Time's up." 

She whispered to Wade, "He's the librarian here."

"A librarian? You're joking. For whom?" With a shaky voice. 

"The librarian always gets what he asks for, regardless of anything else going on in this house," Sophie said, her lip in a pout. 

Wade considered her words. "So this is it? How do I fit into this mess?" 

Before she could answer, "The Haunting of Hill House" dropped into the bag. And another, "House on a Haunted Hill," fell at Sophie's feet. Wade nodded at her to pick it up. 

The second she dropped the book into the bag, she murmured, "Sorry, Wade." Her appearance changed. He saw a red-eyed, cobwebbed-covered, skeletal ghoul draped in soiled rags. Wade jumped at the sight of her. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in disbelief. He was stunned. His hand flew to his mouth, muffling an involuntary gasp as creepy crawlies ran over his body like ants on an anthill. He thought back to when he met her. He heard her voice before he saw her. He must have created a visual of her before he turned around. And there she was—his living vision.

It was so disturbing that it provoked Wade to think more about his time in the house. His mind flashed back to the full-length mirror while they danced. His stomach swirled in terror. His head burned hot. He stomped on the floor, yelled, "Aa-aa-gh-gh,” gritted his teeth, and cut his eyes at Sophie. Then he backed away from her as if she were a leper. 

A wicked wind whipped up. Wade's strength did not match it; it blew him out of the ballroom, back through the walls, and landed him in the library. 

The final face-off for Wade came when he smelled the smoke of a pipe and saw evidence of nicotine lingering in the dust on the librarian's desk.

"You need a library card to come in here. But don't worry, Wade, it's free. I'll make you one now." 

"No." Wade held his hand up to the man. "You keep it. I won't be needing it. We came to return these books." He dumped the bag on the counter and turned to let Sophie speak for herself, but she was gone. "She never told me what you wanted from her, but whatever it was, she didn't want you to take it from her." Wade stared at the pipe while he spoke as a place for his eyes to focus on. He wondered where she had gone to hide. She must've been holding out on him the entire time. It was a put-on from the get-go. His thoughts fed his anger. 

"I'd like to leave now," Wade said. He saw the librarian's black cat as it ran across the desk. It had Wade's library card in its mouth. It jumped at Wade, slipped the card into his hand and landed on its feet before him. It meowed and then ran off.  

The librarian looked Wade in the eye. "You're one of us now. The card proves it. We all have one. Everyone who lives here lives here forever. You can never leave. Sometimes, being curious can bring unwanted consequences." The librarian broke into a full-teeth smile; Wade saw yellow-dotted, tobacco-stained teeth. He opened his mouth to respond and heard an unsettling laugh escape his lips. He collapsed. He couldn't believe it. He was ashamed of who he had become and frustrated that he was stuck there forever. "In time, you won't consider leaving anymore. Contrary to what you think, it's a flash in the pan."

***

Wade stopped to admire himself in the mirror. He adjusted his bow tie.

He greeted the newcomer in the foyer. The door opened by itself as his watch read 10 minutes until noon. A gust of wind ushered her in. She looked around and said to Wade, "What a beautiful house!"

"Yes, Diane, it is."