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Mathew Leach peddled along the familiar dirt road gliding past the dirty old sign for Rodman’s Pass. He pressed farther up the broken path that would soon turn to gravel. While his friends wouldn’t be caught dead taking it, it was a path he’d come to know well taking it dozen trips up to the peak. As his bike careened down a small dip  in the road he gave the peddling a rest and let his thoughts drift to the inevitable conversation he was about to have. It was one Matt had been dreading for some time and he was plagued with the guilt it would undoubtedly bring. As the road picked back up around a sharp curve, his eyes fixed on his destination.

The decrepit Victorian estate sat alone at the precipice of a steep hill overlooking the more populated landscape of familiar suburbia in the valley below. Though the once lavish, expansive, two story mansion was an icon of the town’s wealthy historical beginnings, it now sat abandoned in disrepair. Compared to the average house in Matt’s working class neighborhood, its expanse and luxury still rivaled something Matt could only recall in the Movies or TV. 

The staggering abode built in the late nineteenth century must have been the pinnacle of architecture in its day but over a century later its massive wooden doors and broad stain glass windows sat covered in dirt and grime. It sat on several acres of greenery that might have once been the pride of some master gardener but now ran rampant with weeds, vines, and unkempt bush. Much of the aforementioned greenery had engulfed the exterior of the house like a bad rash spread across the once beautiful facade, making it difficult to determine what the home’s original color was. The entire exterior of the structure gave clear evidence of having been badly worn down by time and weather conditions. 

The dismal aesthetics were only a part of the home’s misfortune, and they certainly weren’t the reason that kids from town no longer took the path up the old hill. The view alone would be worth it, if it weren’t for the rumors and legends surrounding the place. Matt had only been in Farmingdale for the past year, being a military brat his family moved quite a bit which made it difficult to make friends. The ones he had made this year at school thought him insane for venturing up to the old house. Suffice it to say, most kids in his new town were convinced it was haunted. 

Matt slowed when he came across the rotting old iron gates that spanned the length of the vast property. The main gate was so run down that even though the entrance was padlocked, one side had rusted off the hinges a long time ago. This made it simple enough to slip on and off the property with any challenge, which is what Matt had been doing. He layed his bike against the fence and hurriedly ducked under the lopsided gate. He doubted anyone was up here but he prefered not to be noticed if anyone was. 

He glanced over at the mansion now sprawled out before him, taking in the sight once more as his heart sank. The thoughts of the coming conversation once again flooded his mind. He glanced back behind him scanning the old path he’d traversed confirming he hadn’t been followed. He then jogged over to the right side of the house skipping over the overgrown bushes and tangled vines that covered the poorly kept gravel path. He hopped over another set of bushes lining the front  of the building and staggered along the right side of the old structure looking for the familiar wooden plank that covered the broken first floor window. 

Matt approached the window like a seasoned cat burglar executing a well planned heist, carefully lifting aside the old plank without separating it from the last few nails it clung to. He wrenched his whole body through the gap and over the window sill avoiding the nails and splinters that protruded from the board. He hoisted the rest of his frame through the window and fell to the dusty hardwood floor below. His body clamoring to the floor was the only sound that reverberated through the dark deserted house he now occupied. 

Matt glanced around letting his eyes adjust to the darkness around him. A dark, deserted, creepy old house that anyone in their right mind believed was haunted, and Matt was breaking into the place once again. Matt shook his head smirking, he really needed to get a better hobby. Matt got on his feet dusting himself off. He looked around and gathered his bearings. He was in the parlor, much of the old place still possessed furniture and antiques that had been left from the last occupants. He wasn’t sure why no one had claimed the property but thought perhaps it wasn’t worth much at the time the last family had lived here over a century ago. The parlor was furnished with antique couches, mahogany tables, candelabras, and an antique fireplace, all of which hadn’t been used in the last century from the looks of them. 

By now Matt was acquainted with the old place well enough to know that every room was stocked with these types of antiquities. Stepping into the mansion was like stepping through a time capsule that offered a glimpse into the late nineteenth century complete with popular amenities. He probably could have made a fortune snatching trinkets and off loading them on antique road shows, but that wasn’t why Matt returned to this place. He was a sixteen year old boy, he could care less for the trivial means that sat readily available to him throughout the cold, creaky old palace. His mind centered on what every boy his age thought about…and with that he headed for the door realizing he didn’t have time to waste.

He left the parlor through a pair of large glass paned doors and found his way through the grand foyer; he'd memorized the layout so well by now he barely needed light to navigate hallways. He found another set of large oak doors to his right which led into what he assumed was a ballroom. Whoever the previous occupants were, they must have entertained quite a bit. The room was larger than the others in the mansion and lined with decorative wall paper, beautiful antique mirrors, dusty tables, chairs and a grand view of the cliffside through full length windows that sat on one side.

  Matt imagined the gatherings that must have taken place here over the years and in that moment was almost jealous. He didn’t know enough people to fill a portion of the tables that made up this massive room and he wished he could have seen it in all its glory. What a sight this place must have been when it was crowded with jovial party goers. He had to settle for his own private shindig now. 

 Matt stepped over to the end table which held his old boombox and a set of partially used candles. He watched as the sun glanced off the rocks of the cliffside through the broad windows, the sun would be setting soon. Matt had gotten there just in time. He brandished a lighter from his pocket and began placing the candles on the mantle which sat on the far end of the room. One by one he lit them and spaced them on either end allowing the mirror that sat above the mantle to reflect the full expanse of the room. The set up had to be just right, he’d done it enough to know how important space and timing was. 

Next he stepped back over to the boombox, checked the tape deck and after a moment of apprehension pressed play. The familiar vocals of Sam Cooke bellowed through the empty quiet space, he was her favorite. Matt saw the last blades of sun light pass over the valley as night encroached and the mansion grew eerily more dark. While anyone else might have felt the sting of fear swell up sitting all alone in a revered haunted house as night fell, Matt grew excited.  He sat there staring into the mirror above the mantle thinking again on what a grand site this place must have been in its hay day. 

Several minutes passed, two of Cooke’s best songs came and went, and Matt sat patiently. Over the past two months he’d learned the patience of someone decidedly more mature, coming to this place had definitely served him in that way. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he was growing up, even his friends and family had noticed. It was a positive change, and though he hadn’t told anyone what he’d been up to, he doubted that anyone would care when they saw how happy he’d become. What he did here was their little secret, he was convinced the people in his life wouldn’t really understand. 

The music stopped abruptly, Matt who’d been lost in thought snapped back to the present. He glanced over at the boombox sitting idly on the table beside him. The candles began to flicker as a rogue wind ran through the house. Dust and cobwebs wavered back and forth over the old furniture as Matt shot a quick glance back toward the mirror. Matt took in a whiff of the cool night air, as shadows danced throughout the old mansion. A nearly inaudible whisper broke the silence and grew louder as he sat motionless. 

A melody thundered from the boombox again nearly startling Matt off his chair, it was “Bring It On Home”, and it was her favorite song. Despite the cold exterior, Matt’s heart warmed at the sound of the tune. She was coming.  The candles grew brighter and the ballroom was spectacularly lit as the dust and cobwebs settled. As the tune droned on, he could hear a faint shuffle from the floor above. Matt got up grabbing the boombox and a lit candle. He hurried out the grand ballroom and into the main corridor where he found the main stairs which sat at the center of the large room. 

He focused on the faint flicker of light erupting from the second floor room just beside the stairs. Her room, she was still here. He felt the familiar feeling of his heart thumping with eagerness. He remembered the stories he read as a boy, the kind with the valiant prince and his finding love at first sight. Something most people only thought existed in fairy tales. Matthew thought that too once, before he met her. The flickering light approached the open doorway at the top of the stairs, and he held his breath in anticipation. 

As Ophelia Finch emerged from the darkness beyond and approached the stairs carrying a candle of her own. Matthew felt a weight lifted at the sight of her. He exhaled as he watched her descend the stairs almost as if she were gliding down them. She was the poster image of a debutante from the gothic era long lost in a centuries past. Her auburn hair woven into the typical Victorian Coiffures, braided wrapped and pinned in the manner of the women of her day. Her dress was a typical Victorian gown, a violet corset properly tapered to her curvaceous figure opening to a bustle that trailed behind her as she descended the steps. A pair of vivacious dark brown eyes set behind soft facial features, a pair of rosy cheeks, full lips, all accentuated by the style of brightly worn make-up of the era. A bright complexion that was also somehow dark amidst the flame of the candle. Matt envisioned a dark princess awaiting her valiant knight everytime he watched her descend those stairs. 

He’d met Ophelia two months back consequently on a dare which meant to  leave him up in the old house for an hour. Once he’d entered, the others he’d ventured up the cliffside with fled leaving him alone and helpless. The first time she emerged he’d nearly pissed himself and ran off himself, but something had stopped him. Then she spoke, and he felt a connection he hadn’t felt with anyone his entire life. He couldn’t explain it, other than complete infatuation from the first sight of her. He had an inexplicable attachment to this mystical vixen. An animalistic attraction that he could describe as otherworldly. 

 He’d secretly been coming up as often as he could ever since that night. He’d lovingly come to know her simply as “O”. She loved the nickname, apparently they weren’t all that common in her last life. Matthew smiled as she reached the bottom and approached him, and beneath her intense stare O smiled back. She gestured towards the Grand Ballroom where they had often spent their time. It was her favorite place and he’d become quite fond of it himself.

They’d danced to the ballads of Sam Cooke across the moonlit ballroom for what seemed like hours. When Matt finally glanced down at his Timex it had only been twenty minutes. He’d often lost track of time once they’d embraced each other. By embrace, it was really more like a meeting of energies, hers and his. It literally felt like sparks when their hands clasped and they twirled along the hardwood floor. Matt had forgotten all about his reason for coming this evening.

“What troubles you Matthew?” O’s voice pierced like a gentle whisper caressing the thick chill in the air. With that Matt stopped dancing and locked eyes with her. Now was as good a time as any. 

“O, I’m sorry. My family sold the house. We’ll be moving again….I.. I won’t be able to see you anymore...”

O stood remarkably still as she appeared to consider his words carefully, her face betrayed no emotion. After a moment of stoic consideration she shifted, releasing her grip from Matt.

“Matthew, please tell me you don’t plan on leaving me.”

“I don’t have a choice! I.. I don’t want to. I don’t know what to do. My dad 's military and he’s gotta go wherever they send him.. we just… we just have to follow.”

“You told me you grew tired of moving. Was that not true?”

“Yes. Yes. I am tired of moving, changing schools… tired of never fitting in… O you’re the only person I’ve felt close to, felt connected to…” Matt trailed off seemingly upset. He bowed his head, daring not to meet her gaze.

“You wish to leave me?” after a moment O asked plainly.

“No. No, I don't want to leave you.”

“Are you not capable of making your own choices? Are you not a man at sixteen?”

“No, it's a different time. I’m not able to just run off. I’m still in High School O.”

“I have grown quite fond of your company Matthew. Quite fond.”

“I know. I know. If there was any other way…” Matt snuck a glance at O’s expression as he struggled to explain. She still remained quite expressionless as she studied him. After a moment she took his hands in hers and began to dance like they had before. “Dancing in the Moonlight” was playing on the boombox now, another one of their favorites. They swayed to the rhythm of the popular song speechless for a few moments. Finally O leaned in close enough to whisper in his ear. 

“What if there was a way? Would you stay Matthew?”

“Of course I would. I mean I wouldn’t have any way to live though O. I’ve never been on my own…” O cut him off by placing an index finger over his lips. For the first time since the start of the evening she smiled. She gestured toward the mirror, still smiling. 

Matthew didn’t realize what he saw when he gazed into the mirror at first. It looked like a reflection of the two of them but decidedly different. They danced in the mirror but he wore the formal attire of someone from long ago. He saw the others now too. The grand ballroom was full of patrons, all in similar garb. Matt continued to stare at the image as they simply danced on. People merrily drank, laughed, and danced alongside Matt and Ophelia. As they pranced along in a trancelike state Matt felt all the worry, the anxiety, all the problems he’d arrived with just slip away. As he gleefully slipped away he heard Os' last words echo, “Stay with me Matthew. Nothing bad has ever happened here.”