Crowfeather Manor

On an oppressively stormy night, the sort that would make even the bravest heart quiver, I wandered into the grand, eerily silent dining room of Crowfeather Manor. As I creaked open the window, a biting wind surged in, bearing with it not just the wet tang of rain but a hint of something rotten. From afar, a lone wolf's howl pierced the atmosphere, sending cold ripples through the air. 

I was hypnotized as a shadowy owl, made its descent onto a withered tree. I watched mesmerized, as its sheer, white wings flapped through the air. It seemed as though every single feather of the bird was crafted with care. Ah, such elegant, sophisticated things in this world there are. I let out a cold breath into the air, calmly watching the beautiful beast silently stalk its prey.

Out of the blue, an unsettling "splat!" cut through the peaceful silence. Pivoting, I saw egg yolk slowly bleeding down the ancient wallpaper. Through the dimness, I barely discerned three teens, more mischievous than frightened. Sensing an opportunity to impart a slice of the manor's eerie history, I rushed out, rustling the old Crowfeather sign as I passed.

I glided behind the smallest of them and spoke into his ear with a dry, wispy voice. “Think twice, before you trespass.” 

"Did you hear that?" The youngest of them mumbled, a touch of unease in his voice. His hand slowly reached for his neck, but not before I floated away. 

"Probably just the wind," another replied with a scoff, though the hesitance in his voice betrayed him. I hovered behind him, sending chills down his spine. 

“Stupid ghost,” one of the teens said out loud, not afraid at all.

“Pfft. As if ghosts even exist.” Said the tallest boy.  

‘I rolled my eyes. ‘Stupid humans,’ I thought. Unable to resist, I glided stealthily behind him and exhaled a frosty breath down his neck. He jerked around, his dark green eyes wide open, frantically looking around.

“Did anyone else feel that?”

“Change your mind about ghosts?” The tallest chuckled, trying to break the tension.

“No, it was probably just the wind.”

“I think we should leave,” the tallest one said quietly, slowly backing away. His tense jaw and clenching fists were a dead giveaway that he was scared, but he obviously didn’t want to show it to his companions who would most likely make fun of him, and tell their entire school. Fearfully, the tallest one (whom I assumed was the leader of the group) reached inside his jet-black bag and launched another egg toward my Manor. I raced after it and intercepted it with an air of practiced ease. ‘Those boys will never know what hit them,’ I thought to myself. I aimed and launched it back towards the teenagers. The smallest one scrambled away and hid behind a nearby tree to avoid getting egg yolk on himself. The other member of the group dodged it at the last second. Unfortunately, the eldest teen was right behind him. I watched gleefully as the egg burst against the leader's jacket. The dark leather, once clean and crisp now had yellow egg yolk dripping down onto his boots. Their startled yelps echoed into the night, a gentle reminder of the mysterious aura enveloping Crowfeather Manor. I cackled evilly into the night, trying to imitate the villain from the last horror movie I had watched eight years ago until I couldn’t see their figures anymore.

I sighed, floating back towards the manor, memories coming back to me that haunted my mind since the very day my life was taken. This was the very place where my life had been cruelly snatched away eight years prior, all because of a careless dare at the tender age of nine. Initially consumed by sorrow, over time, I came to relish my ghostly powers. The town had painted my death grisly and violent, when it was only a simple trip over an ill-placed candle, and tumble down the stairs. 

I missed my parents, but I grew to hate them, they never came looking for me. I hated my sister the most. She was two years younger than me, but somehow managed to be twice as annoying. What was even more frustrating? She was my parent’s favorite child. Mae was an annoying little brat who would’ve probably killed me if she had the chance. I know that older sisters are supposed to be the perfect role models, but honestly, it was hard putting up with Mae’s constant complaints.

Tethered to this haunting place, the only reprieve from my ghostly existence was the act of possession, a dark path I had vowed never to tread. Yet, that resolution wavered when a man arrived the next morning.

The man was the first to enter the manor's threshold since my departure from the mortal realm. His threadbare clothes and scant belongings hinted at his modest means. Perhaps he wondered about the staggeringly low price of the manor. From the shadows, I watched him spy the sign at the entrance – [Crowfeather Manor - SOLD for $1,000,000].

 “Such an insult,” I murmured, bitterness tingling my ethereal voice. “The manor is worth much more than that.”

I watched the man the entire night, as he ate dinner, watched a TV on an old television set he had brought, and closed the lights of the house. He seemed pretty content with living here. That would change real soon. The man seemed to know which room he wanted to sleep in because after watching television, he went directly there.

 As he stepped through the door, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He gasped and turned around to find thin air. He turned around again, only to turn back towards me as I placed my other hand on his shoulder. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel them. After a second, I released my rough grip on him and turned to face him, blowing the smallest breeze into his face. I watched, frustrated as only his face twisted up and his jaw tensed, not showing much fright. 

The man hurried into his room, which was the same as it was eight years ago. Earlier in the evening he had brought all of his moving boxes and his suitcase into the room. He had neatly unpacked all of his clothes and set them in the dresser next to his bed. As he continued towards his bed, I slammed the door shut. The man spun around and laughed.

“Come on, Gale, harden up,” he said to himself, chuckling. “You’re living in a manor where a dead girl lives, and you’re getting scared by the wind?”

“Yeah Gale, harden up,” I hissed near his ear. This time, he didn’t even bother turning around. He settled himself into bed and shut the lights off with a switch near his old dusty bedside table. As soon as the lights clicked off, I floated onto the house's roof and started stomping around. In Gale’s room, I hoped it sounded as if someone was walking on the roof. I seriously hoped he was scared out of his mind. I continued for seven more minutes.

Deciding it was enough, I floated back through the roof and watched him lie in his bed, not even unsettled by my attempt to frighten him. I sighed and sat on the windowsill, staring off into the vast, empty distance. My trance was broken when I heard an unsettling sound. I whipped around to see Gale passed out in his bed, with loud, scratchy sounds coming from him. ‘Is he snoring?’ I thought to myself. ‘How is he already asleep?’

I growled in frustration, knowing that it was going to be much harder to get Gale out of my manor than I thought it would be.

The next morning I had an idea. I floated out to the garden I had been tending to at my time in Crowfeather Manor. The garden was small, but it was the only thing near Crowfeather Manor that was lush with life. I pulled out a handful of beets and tossed them into a string basket. The beets were bloodred, the kind that makes you not want to eat them, no matter how delicious they look. I brought the plants into the kitchen and started creating something that would finally scare Gale away. I chopped up the roots until it was practically a liquid.  

Once I was finished, I waited. And waited. For two hours I sat on the kitchen countertop and waited for Gale to come down. He never did, so I floated through the ceiling and into his room. I peeked in, but to my surprise, he wasn’t there. The bed was made, and all of his belongings were neatly packed in cardboard moving boxes.

‘Yes!’ I thought triumphantly. I hadn’t even tried to scare him out; everything just fell right into place. Suddenly, I heard the sound of the stairs creaking. I floated out of the room and saw that Gale was walking up the stairs with an incense burner. He placed it onto his rusty nightstand and started dragging the largest box towards the stairs. He hauled it down the stairs and left it in the middle of the foyer.

Once all the moving boxes were downstairs, Gale walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a cup and placed it under the tap. Bright, blood-red water started flowing into his cup. He shut the tap and emptied the water into the sink. He muttered something about rusty pipes and placed the cup down. It clinked on the counter, a metallic sound ringing through the manor.

My thoughts were interrupted by multiple ding sounds. I turned and found Gale putting a square piece of metal next to his ear. 

‘What is that?’ I thought. 

“Hello,” came the sound of an old man. “Twenty-four-seven pipe repair service,” I spun around, frantically trying to find the source of the voice. 

“Hello, my name is Gale and I need someone to fix my pipes today.”

I was utterly confused. Who was the mysterious man coming from the black square? Who was Gale talking to?

The man spoke again, “Fill out the form on our website, and I will send one of my men over today.” What’s a website?

“Great,” Gale exclaimed, clicking a bright red button on the square, and placing the metal thingy down. 

“What is that?” I accidentally wondered out loud. Oops. 

“Who was that?” Gale asked, searching the room with his eyes for me. I clutched my breath and stood as still as I could. “I heard you. This isn’t funny,” he said, looking around warily. 

I stood as still as I could, not daring to breathe. Not that I needed to, anyway. 

“Show yourself!” Gale yelled, drawing a knife from the drawer. I realized this was my moment. I grabbed both his shoulders and screamed. Gale screamed too. That worked out pretty well. 

He started stabbing the air, trying to hit his invisible attacker. Of course, he had no luck. At one point, the knife went right through my transparent body. I giggled silently, sitting on the kitchen countertop watching as Gale stabbed the air. 

After a while, he relented and stopped trying to murder the air. 

“Stupid Manor,” I heard Gale mutter. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into my head as I slowly changed my ghost powers so that Gale could now see my figure.

“Hi,” I whispered hesitantly. 

Gale spun around, and his jaw dropped. He stood staring at me, gaping at me for a few moments until I floated a little closer to him.

“Hi,” I said again. “I’m Sadie.”

“Ahh!” Gale yelled but quickly settled down. Maybe he wasn’t used to seeing ghosts. He gave me a small, nervous smile. Then he sat down on a rickety chair. “I-I’m Gale.”

I nodded. “So, you’ve probably been wondering what all voices and scares have been.”

Gale nodded hesitantly. He was still breathing hard. 

I chuckled. “I was trying to scare you out of my Manor.”

Gale looked at me weirdly. “But- but aren’t you a-”

“A ghost. Yeah. See, nobody has even set foot inside this Manor ever since my death. So, when you came I tried to scare you out.” I looked at Gale sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Gale laughed. “Yeah, it’s just… I can’t even….”

“Grasp that you’re talking to a ghost. That ghosts even exist?” I said.

“Exactly; you took the words right out of my mouth,” Gale exclaimed, a little more friend-like.

I smiled, enjoying this happy mood for once. Suddenly, Gale’s expression darkened.

“Is it- is it okay that I ask how you died?”

“Oh, well I don’t remember.” I sat, thinking for a moment about how to put this in words that would make sense to Gale. “Do you remember being born?”

Gale shook his head.

“Dying is the same.”

He nodded.

“So let me ask you a question now; how did you wind up here and also, what was that little metal thing that you were talking about?”

Gale laughed. “You mean a phone?”

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “What’s a phone?”

“It’s like this little device that you can text, call, and do other things with.”

I made a face. “What’s texting?”

“I’ll tell you later. Anyways, to answer your first question, “This was the cheapest place I could find.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” he coughed. “I think I need some time to process this.”

“Okay,” I said. “What would you like for dinner?”

“You cook?” He asked.

“I’ve spent the last eight years cooking.”

“Well, in that case, I like borscht. You know, the Russian beetroot soup?”

I could make borscht. I made it countless times for Mae when my parents had left for late dinners.

“Yeah, I can make that. Why don’t you get some rest, and come back down in half an hour? We can have dinner at 7:00,” I said, trying to remember the recipe. 

“Ok, great! I’ll be down at 7:00,” with that, he got up and headed to his room.

I remembered the recipe, so I headed out to the garden. The garden was at the back of the house, so none of the villagers’ prying eyes had noticed it yet. I grabbed a handful of potatoes, four carrots, and a basketful of onions and beetroots. 

I headed back into the kitchen and chopped everything up. I turned on the stove, which flickered to life. I guess there was still oil left from eight years ago. I placed a pot on the stove and poured in some water. The liquid immediately started bubbling, slightly spilling over the sides of the pot. I poured all the vegetables into the pot, which bubbled even more, spilling vegetable broth over the sides. 

The borscht hissed as I poured it into a bowl. I kept the remaining soup on the counter, in case Gale wanted more. The white bowl burned my fingers as I carried the steaming borscht up the stairs into Gale’s room. Gale hadn’t been out of his room all night. We had agreed on 7:00 for dinner, but it was already 7:23. 

I slowly floated up the stairs to Gale’s room and knocked on the door. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer. I cracked open the door. Gale wasn’t in his room or the bed. I floated through the door, to find Gale staring off into space on the balcony.

"Gale? I made you some borscht. Are you hungry?" I asked. Gale remained sanctioned at the balcony, staring off into the stars.

"Gale?" I asked again, my voice edged with fear.

Suddenly, Gale convulsed, his body wracked with violent tremors that sent a bone-chilling shudder down my ethereal form—a sensation I had long forgotten. 

"Help," he whispered weakly, his voice barely audible amidst the eerie silence. Then, in a horrifying twist, his head twisted around, a full one-eighty degrees, as if defying the laws of nature itself. He needed to live. 

The sight of his eyes, now a ghastly shade of grayish-blue, struck me with a primal fear, as though I was peering into the depths of a soulless demon. A surge of revulsion washed over me, causing me to instinctively recoil, my incorporeal essence retreating in terror. Gale crumpled to the floor, his body devoid of life, while a faint, blue wisp escaped his now vacant vessel, dissipating into the darkness.

Drifting back toward him, I hovered over Gale's lifeless form, a sense of foreboding enveloping me like a suffocating fog. The air grew colder, the very essence of the room tainted with an otherworldly chill. And then, as if summoned by some malevolent force, a frigid hand rested upon my spectral shoulder, sending a surge of icy dread coursing through my ethereal being. 

Slowly, I turned, my heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, only to behold a face that mirrored my own—yet twisted into a grotesque semblance of a ghostly apparition. Long, flowing brown locks cascaded around a visage with piercing gray eyes that seemed to pierce through the fabric of my soul. The pallid complexion and hollow gaze spoke of an existence beyond the realm of the living. It was as though... as though I was gazing upon a distorted reflection of myself. In that harrowing moment, everything fell into place, the puzzle pieces aligning with a sickening clarity. Gale had merely been a vessel, a pawn used by Mae to find me, and now, her ghostly presence loomed before me, ready to unveil the sinister purpose that bound us together.

"Hello, sister," said the ghost, her light all-to-familiar voice sending a second shiver down my spine. "We have lots of catching up to do."