Perfect Haunting Conditions

Florence heard the teenagers approaching and didn’t know whether to be excited or annoyed. She didn’t need to see them to know they were teenagers, it was always teenagers. Something about the abandoned mansion had a particular draw for the youthful. They were that perfect balance of unworldly and foolish with a heavy dose of ego. They disregarded the stories of tragedy and haunting, and entered her home with confident curiosity, sure that they would be the first to successfully spend the night inside the mansion, unlike so many before them that had failed. 

Florence wasn’t much older than a teenager herself, though she’d called the mansion home for 150 years. She’d watched her daughter Hattie grow up here, and eventually have children of her own. Those children had also grown up, and after several generations, the family left and the grand house stood empty and rotting. Florence couldn’t bring herself to leave though. Everything good in her life, including life itself, had been ripped away from her inside this house. Anger and sadness coursed through her lifeless form. Perhaps that was all that gave her any form at all. 

“How do we get inside?” 

“There’s a broken window around the back.”

She had to hand it to them, it was a perfect night to explore a creepy old house. The sky was clear and the moon was full, casting its light through every hole in the wall and crack in the boarded up windows. Perfect haunting conditions. 

As she listened to them noisily crawl through the kitchen window she floated lazily around the foyer wondering which angle she should take tonight. The wailing mother was a good option - one she was quite good at too. Demonic poltergeist was always fun, and often produced amusing results. Tonight though, she was in the mood for the sort of drawn out, unsettling experience that would stick with these kids for a lifetime. 

She perched at the top of the staircase and watched as they entered the foyer, flashlights in hand. There were four of them. She sized them up. The clear ringleader, a confident boy leading the group. One other boy, who walked with a carefree jokester attitude. A girl with long braids carrying a backpack. And a final girl with long blonde hair, bringing up the rear. 

The group entered the sitting room and one of them said, “Let’s set up here.” Florence sighed, they were all the same. She drifted down through the wall to watch. The girl with the braids had begun to pull candles out of her bag. There was no need to clear the furniture, that had been done by others before them, the sofas and tables pushed away from the center of the room. In that regard she really couldn’t fault them for being unoriginal, the sitting room really was the best space for a seance. 

The other three walked about the room, observing the possessions that had been left behind by the family - old books along the shelves, a grand piano, photos on the wall that were now completely obscured by dust. 

The blonde girl began to wipe away the dust from a framed photo in the corner. Florence watched as she uncovered it. She knew the photo well, it was one of Hattie with her husband and three children. Florence stood beside the girl, and they stared at the photo together. She could see the girl’s breath, one of the side effects of Florence’s presence. The unnatural cool was one of those things that alerted the living to something other-worldly. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at!?” The jokester grabbed the girl’s shoulders and she gave a small shriek.

“Toby! Don’t do that!” she whirled around giving him a shove. 

Toby laughed, “You scared already?” 

“No,” she shuddered. “I just think we need to be respectful, someone died here.” 

“People die all the time. You gotta relax.”

“Zeke, you have that lighter?” Braids asked. 

The ringleader handed it to her. As she finished lighting the many candles she’d set up - a tad excessive, Florence thought - they all sat down facing each other and began what Florence knew to be their attempts to contact the dead. 

Throughout the years Florence had found that the best way to go about haunting was to let people form a false sense of security. Once they felt safe then the real fun could begin. She’d previously, on several occasions, made her presence known immediately to trespassers. However, she quickly came to the conclusion that a shattered vase and shrill screams would immediately send them running, and though that proved to be amusing, it was short lived. Besides, she could be much more creative. 

The group did all the usual things: held hands, closed eyes, asked the spirits to reveal themselves etc. Florence sat atop the fireplace mantel watching them. It’d been about thirty minutes by the time they gave up. 

“Bianca I thought you said you’d done this before?” Zeke said finally.

“I have,” Braids opened her eyes. “Well, I’ve done it with my aunt. She did the actual summoning,” she admitted. 

Zeke sighed and dropped her hand. “I’m gonna go explore.”

“But we haven’t even tried the ouija board yet!” Bianca said as he got up and grabbed his flashlight. 

Zeke stepped carefully around the abundance of candles spread out on the floor. “Does it matter? There’s nothing actually here.” He turned in the doorway, shining his flashlight under his face. “Follow me if you dare!” he said in a spooky voice before disappearing into the hallway. 

“Should we play hide and seek?” Toby asked, grinning. 

“No way.” Blondie answered. 

Bianca looked disappointed. “Sorry guys.” 

Toby stood. “All good. I’m gonna check out the study. That’s where the murder happened.”

Incorrect, Florence thought. 

The girls were left sitting amongst the candles. 

“So,” Bianca said, “why’d you wanna come here so badly?”

“I just know a lot about the history of the house so I wanted to see it. My Grandma told me all about it.”

“What’d she tell you?” 

Florence was curious to hear the answer. She’d heard the story a million ways, but the truth seemed to drift farther and farther away with the past. 

The candlelight danced across the girls’ faces and cast flickering shadows across the walls. Florence settled herself on the floor next to the girls, listening intently. 

“Well,” Blondie said. “It’s quite a sad story. There was a young woman. She was smart and beautiful, but quite poor. Even though she was of lower status she caught the attention of a wealthy man.” Blondie gestured around her. “A man who lived here. A married man.” 

“Ugh,” Bianca interjected.

“Yeah. Anyway, she kept rejecting his advances. But eventually he got frustrated and forced himself on her. She got pregnant, which at the time was a huge scandal and made her a social outcast. When she had the baby, she knew she would never be able to afford to take care of it. So, she brought the baby here and confronted the man in front of his family. She told everyone what he’d done, that the baby was his, and she demanded money. He denied everything, obviously. But the crazy thing is that his wife believed the woman.”

“She probably knew he was a piece of shit.” Bianca said matter-of-factly.

“Probably. So anyway, everyone is yelling and crying. Somehow, the details are a bit unclear, the man ends up shoving the woman and she falls and hits her head on the edge of a table, and she dies.”

“And the baby?”

“Apparently the wife insisted they keep it. She was a bit too old for people to believe it was her’s, but their daughter was married so they told everyone it belonged to her. And I guess everyone just thought the young woman left town.” 

“Huh,” Bianca said, “that’s really good. I’ve never heard that one before.”

If it was possible for an apparition to feel their heart pounding in their chest then Florence was sure she could feel her’s now. The girls, the candlelight dancing on the walls, it all seemed to blur before her. She had never, in 150 years, heard someone tell a story that came so close to the truth. 

She needed some air - figuratively, of course - and she zoomed through the ceiling, up three floors to the attic. She sat by the window and stared out at the overgrown grounds. 

The memory of the events were still vivid. Working here at the mansion. Meeting that horrid man. Turning down his relentless advances. She remembered her fear as her innocence had been violently taken from her when he’d caught her alone. Again, how scared she’d been when she realized she’d be having a child - without a husband. And again, the all-consuming terror she’d felt when he screamed at her and beat her until she could no longer accuse him. 

The truth was kept a secret by the household out of fear and financial necessity, and Hattie was raised as part of the family, here in this house.  

The pain of not being with her daughter was more than Florence could bear. She’d refused to move on, opting to stay and watch her daughter’s life happen without her. Even when Hattie was long gone, Florence’s emotional turmoil persisted. 

Something creaked in the room beneath her. Florence was jolted out of her memory, her terror giving way to rage. She wanted everyone to feel exactly how she’d felt in those moments long ago. 

She descended through the floorboards into the room below. 

She was in one of the bedrooms. Zeke was standing inside the doorway, surveying the room with his flashlight. As he walked lazily towards the bedside table, Florence gave the door a nudge and it slowly swung shut with a creak that pierced the silence.

Zeke whipped around, shining his flashlight at the door. After a moment he turned back towards the bedside table. There was a small oval frame with a photo of a child that he picked up and examined. When he’d put the frame down and turned to look elsewhere, Florence grabbed it and moved it to the vanity. A minute later, Zeke had made his way over. It took him a moment to notice the frame, and Florence saw a look of confusion cross his face as he picked it up. She smiled. Zeke stared at the photo before glancing back towards the bedside table. He hurriedly put the frame down. 

“Weird.” he said, shaking his head. 

As he continued to explore the room, Florence stayed close by so the unnatural chill would settle over him. Finally, he gave a shiver, his breath visible as he strode across the room towards the door. When he pulled the handle though, it wouldn’t budge. Florence held it shut, watching his confusion and struggle. Frustrated, he turned to look again at the room, perhaps hoping to find something that would help him open the door. Instead, he saw the small oval framed photo of the child, standing on the floor a few feet behind him. 

Florence couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she watched his confusion give way to full on panic. 

“Guys!” Zeke pounded the door. “Toby! Guys can you hear me?!” He was pulling the doorknob with all his might. “Hello?! Can anyone he-”

Florence let go and the door flew open. Toby was on the other side. “You okay?”

Zeke practically jumped out into the hallway. “Something is seriously wrong with this place!”

“I like it.” Toby said lightly. 

“There’s some sort of,” Zeke gestured wildly, looking for the right word, “demon child living here!” 

Toby snorted and clapped Zeke on the back. “You gotta relax, bro. Let’s check out the attic.”

Zeke hesitantly shined his flashlight back into the bedroom before quickly following after Toby. 

Florence followed them up the stairs, letting herself make audible footfalls behind them. 

“Did you hear that?” Zeke stopped to shine his flashlight down the stairs.

Toby continued. “No.”

Florence could see Zeke was on edge - probably at war with himself about what was reality - but he followed Toby anyway. Perhaps he wasn’t the ringleader after all. 

The attic was a dumping ground of old photos, toys, and family possessions. So much potential, Florence thought. 

She let them have a few minutes of peace. Then, as they were rifling through a box of clothing, she took a marble from one of the boxes and rolled it on the ground towards them. The sound of the marble rolling on the floor silenced the boys’ conversation, and they both turned to look at the ground. Their flashlights illuminated the marble as it rolled slowly out of the darkness and hit Toby’s shoe. 

The boys said nothing. Zeke looked at Toby. Toby was looking at the marble. Slowly, he kicked it back towards Florence. She smirked as she sent it rolling faster back towards him. 

Both their faces fell. 

“Holy f-”

“We need to leave!” Zeke was already on his way to the door. “I told you something was wrong with this place!”

Before he could make it to the door Florence slammed it shut with a deafening clap. Both boys pulled desperately on the knob. A cold air washed over them as Florence stood close by, watching them shiver and struggle. 

“Open it!”

“I’m trying!”

“Let me do it!”

Creak…creak. They stilled, glancing at each other before turning to find the source of the noise - there was an antique rocking horse in the center of the room, being ridden by an invisible child. 

Florence lazily rocked the horse back and forth, loving the looks of utter horror on their faces as they clawed pathetically at the door.

Finally, she had brought the oval frame with her, which she placed behind them while their attention was back on the door. She tipped it backwards onto the dusty floor so the photo was facing up, and it gave a small clatter as it hit the ground.

She’d never seen anyone pale as quickly as Zeke did at the sight of the oval frame. 

“Help!” he pounded on the door. “Heelllp!”

“Dude, calm down!” Toby said, running his hands over his face, looking like someone who was reevaluating everything they knew about life. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this. The girls are just messing with us.” The quiver in his voice indicated he didn’t believe that. 

“Calm down?! We’re trapped up here with a ghost!”

“Let’s open the door.” Toby threw his body against it.

“That’s what I’m trying to do!”

Satisfied for now, Florence left to find the girls. 

Bianca was sitting alone amongst her candles, humming softly. Florence wasted no time. She swept into the room extinguishing the candles as she went, plunging the room into complete darkness.

Bianca ceased her humming and let out a feeble “Oh”. Then the cold crept in, and Florence could see the girl’s rapid breaths as she searched the floor around her in a frenzy. She’d just grasped her flashlight when Florence pressed a single key on the piano.

Bianca scrambled to her feet and faced the piano. “H-hello? Toby?” She clicked her flashlight on and shone it at the piano. Her chest rose and fell quickly with each chilled breath. She stared intently at the instrument. 

Then Florence began to play. She knew Chopin’s Funeral March was a dramatic choice, but she was nothing if not theatrical. 

Bianca stumbled, knocking over several candles and falling to the ground. She let out a high pitched scream that brought a smile to Florence’s face. Bianca edged her way backward along the ground, screaming all the while. The screams fueled Florence as she played, mixing the powerful melody with the sounds of the girl’s terror. 

“Flo!”

Florence’s hands dropped abruptly from the keys at the sound of her name. She looked at Bianca who was still staring towards the piano with panic in her eyes. 

“Flo!” she yelled again.

Florence was completely dumbfounded. How did this girl know her name? Could she see her?

Footsteps thundered down the stairs. The boys must’ve escaped. 

Another yell came from down the hallway, “Bianca?!”

Blondie entered the room looking confused. “What’s wrong?”

Bianca managed to get to her feet and clutch Blondie’s arm. “The piano!” she choked out. 

At that moment the boys burst into the room in a panic. “We’re leaving,” Zeke announced. “Right now. Grab your stuff, let’s go!” 

Bianca didn’t need telling twice, she was grabbing her bag off the floor and dragging the blonde girl along with her. Blondie, however, looked incredibly confused.

“Guys what’s going on?!” she wrenched her arm out from Bianca’s grasp. 

“There’s no time,” Toby said hurriedly. “I’m not spending another second in this place.” He hightailed it into the hallway with Zeke close behind, and called out, “Come on!”

“Okay, Bianca, tell me wh-”

“Florence!” Bianca interrupted her. 

Hearing her name was so jarring that Florence forgot to enjoy their fear. What was going on? How was she speaking to her?

“We can’t stay here.” Bianca said seriously, staring Blondie directly in the eyes. “We need to go - now.” She was already on her way out the door.

“But…” Blondie began as she looked toward the piano.

Bianca whipped around in the doorway to look at her, “Florence! It’s time to leave.” She disappeared into the hallway after the boys. 

Blondie continued looking curiously towards the piano until she heard someone shout from down the hallway, “Flo!”. 

“Coming!” she shouted back. She gave the piano one last glance before saying quietly, “Time to go.” and followed after the others. 

Florence sat at the piano in the now empty room. Florence! It’s time to leave. The words rang in her head. 

She could hear the teens noisily crawling back out the kitchen window. 

She gave her head a shake. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t. 

She continued playing the funeral march.