A night in the Nightilas mansion

“Truth or dare?” I was being questioned enthusiastically. It was a rather normal game of ‘truth or dare’, which 11-year old’s like us always play. Dare was always picked, unless you were as dumb as that newcomer to our school, who said truth, and we forced out all his secrets, which went viral. Sometimes it would be something manageable, like doing 500 star jumps in 30 minutes, but other times, it went dangerous, like jumping off the 7’th stair, a feet which no one could defeat. Once, however, it went supernatural. 

             “Dare.” The reply was so instinctive, that I felt that the creator of the game should just name it ‘The Game of Dare’.

             “Spend a night in the Nightilas Mansion.” My friend, Max answered me. What? Nightilas Mansion? That mansion where the maniac committed suicide? The thing is, the mansion is rumored to be haunted, as the maniac’s spirit still haunted it.

             “Sure. I’ll do it on one condition. The condition is that you and the rest of The Golden People come along.” The Golden People were my group of friends, who would go out and try to prove theories.

             “I’ll ask them to come along. I mean, who’s afraid of that house. We’ll go and prove that legend wrong. There’s nothing called ghosts and spirits. Do remember to pack a torchlight.” Max replied confidently, sending a shiver down my spine. My god, the motive of telling him to come along, was for him to be afraid and me saying that if he was afraid, why should I go along. But now, he was more certain about doing it.

*

             Soon, it was nightfall. Everyone was gathered in front of the gates of the Nightilas mansion. With a large creek, we suddenly changed from normal boys to trespassers. The weeds grew up to our knees, and made weird shadows alongside ours.

             “Hey look, that’s the shadow of a man!” Jeremy shouted. I was frozen as if a deer caught in headlights. This mansion was haunted indeed.

             “Of course, that’s your own shadow!” Max shouted. The moonlight shown through the trees suddenly, as if the emphasize his point. Jeez, I almost peed my pants thanks to a false threat. There were multiple sets of footprints going in, but none going out. As we neared the gate, a gust of wind blew the door open, revealing a dark hallway, with burnt out torches along the ways. We went in of course.

             After all of us were in, we appointed Leah, who was the only girl in The Golden People, and was stupid terrified. As she made her way towards the door, a gust of wind blew, closing the door.

             “Hey! The door’s closed.” Leah shouted. Following was a bare audible click, and was certainly the click of a lock.

             “Well, duh! Unlock it!” came my reply while I was busy turning on my torchlight.

             “No, it’s locked!” Leah cried desperately. Max went over to twist the doorknob, but it would not budge. Max used all his remaining strength to twist it, only for the old, rusty doorknob to drop off. Max said a few vulgarities in frustration, and went to the end of the hallway. Grabbing a golf club in sight, he charged towards the door, and hoped to knock it down. All he got was a broken golf club. We were all surprised by how sturdy the wood was. Nevertheless, we still had to stay for the night, so it was better off if we did not care about it until tomorrow morning.

             We went to the depths of the mansion. There were rooms, and even secret chambers. Lost in our enthusiasm, we did not notice that the doors we closed became concrete walls, while the concrete walls became doors, leading us to everywhere, everywhere but where we began. I turned off the torchlight to properly experience the thrill. Meanwhile, someone was following us all along.

              “Hey, I think it’s time to turn back, you know.” Leah said, shaking with fear. The rest agreed, and I turned instinctively to where I came from, only to bump into a concrete wall. Cobwebs fell from the wall straight onto me, while the 300-year-old concrete wall threatened to fall.

             “I’m pretty sure that was where we came from.” Jeremy said, “Right Max?” There was no response.

             “Stop playing fool and come here Max.” I shouted. There was still no response. I was forced to turn on the torchlight and flashed it around the room. I saw Jeremy, staring into the torchlight. I saw Leah, who was rubbing her hands for warmth. Max’s name was still left hanging in the air. Where was Max. By now, everyone had noticed something was wrong, and everyone dashed out of the door, no matter where it led us. Everyone held hands together, to make sure none of us went missing.

             The instant we started down the hallway, I began feeling something was amiss. I did not notice it all the way, and I could only feel a burning feeling inside me to knock down the walls and get out.

             “Hey! There’s something wrong here! Why are the torches burning? Wouldn’t 300-year-old torches be out by now?” Jeremy asked. He definitely did have an eye for detail.

             “Smart boy.” A low, raspy voice broke in the room.

             “Who…Who are you?” I asked.

             “Dumb boy.” Came the response. Suddenly, it became clear that it was the maniac’s spirit.

             “Mauahahahahahahahahahaha! Today I get my replacement finally. You see, I am the spirit trapped in this house, but if some other person comes, I go free. I have taken one. And you guys, the front door is right down this hall, so…” He was cut off abruptly. A blinding ray of light shot out from the air, and before we knew it, there was a goddess standing in front of us. She took out a small mirror, and captured the maniac’s sprit in it. Then she turned to us.

             “I can help you, but what is done, is done. Your friend cannot be saved. Please do not mess with the supernatural next time. Luckily, I was in the area. Now scram!”

             We needed no second reminder. We dashed straight out of the Nightilas Mansion without turning our head back. We ran out of the gates, rambled down the streets like hungry wolves after some prey, and with a clang and a plop, the gates of our homes opened, and we were on our comfy beds in no time.

             The legend of two deaths only grows and grows, but we are sure that it is not a legend. But how do we prove it without going back for a night?