The soul peered into the windows and smiled. New unsuspecting bodies entering his domain. The night of mischief is coming to a start. The soul of the boy giddied up and phased out of the room.
“Are you sure this is okay? We can still turn back.” Alex said, his voice quivering with fear. His hands are coiled around Tom’s arms which irritated his older brother to an extent.
“So we just need to stay in here until four, seems easy enough.” Phillia said as she scans the surrounding for potential room they could stay in. So far, everything looks like a dump. The wooden boards creak to their every movements and certain wildlife already took this place as their territory. In truth, they should be more afraid of a rabid possum than some urban folklore.
“We still got 9 hours and 10 minutes.” Nina said without looking up from her phone calculator. “There’s also no cell signal here so scratch the plans for watching Netflux.”
Sherrie groaned. Tonight was supposed to be her binge-night for watching “Weirder Objects” and it’s destroyed by this stupid dump of a place. At least she brought her mom’s juicy short novels. Her luscious night of erotic fiction won’t be ruined at least.
“There!” Phillia pointed at the room above the gigantic central staircase. The door is unlike the other doors they found. It was new and the paints hasn’t peeled of yet. It was as if the door was changed or being maintained by someone.
“Someone might be living here. We should leave.”
“Don’t be a wuss. It might just be an old fart or Troy and the others are jost trolling us. Either way, we can beat them is someone jumps on us. Especially with Phillia here.” Tom said as he slapped Phillia’s pudgy arms.
The group huddled together and climbed up the creaking staircase. Dust fell off the ceiling with their steps and the possums eyed their trail. The air around them hanged with dread. The hairs behind their rose up. Someone is watching them and it’s not the possums. Nevertheless, they reached their destination without falling into one of the many holes that littered the staircase.
The inside of the room is suffice to say, looks better than the rest of the house. The dust and abandoned items are still there. But they won’t be worrying about the holes in the ceiling in case it rains. They can also bar the doors when someone tried to come in and they can escape the tree outside the large window.
“We’ll camp here for the rest of the night. Nina, set up the light. Twins, food. Sherrie, the Futons.” Phillia said.
“And you?” Sherrie asked.
“I’m going to set up this Video Player I borrowed from my dad. I got all three seasons of “Weirder Objects” downloaded right here.” Phillia rasied the red flash drive on her hands for all to see.
“Why didn’t you say so? I shouldn’t have brought these books.”
Tom jumped at Sherrie’s bad and grabbed a handful of her books. “Oowiiee! ‘Hot Love Under the Moonlight’, ‘Horsepl-”
“Give that back you retard!”
“’Leather Slave’ I never thought you’re into these stuff.”
“Tom you asshole. Those are my mom’s.”
“Mrs. Questa has good tastes Sherrie.”
“Tom!”
The first hours of the night went smoothly. Like the calm before the storm. The group huddled in their Futons, grabbed and shared their snacks as they watch “Weirder Objects” on the small screen.
Above them, a small figure looms unseen to the naked eye. He was supposed to be unhinging chandeliers and hexing the rusted armors by the hallways. But the thing they brought. The small theater with moving pictures transfixed him to the spot. The scene he was watching has a boy in it and a tornado of wind is trying to get inside him. The boy lost consciousness and woke up many scenes later. Although, the boy is speaking differently. Like something was controlling him from the inside.
“Phill is possessed man. Prolly by that thing in the ‘Inside Out’” Tom said.
“Thanks Captain Obvious. Now would kindly shut the fuck up!” Sherrie half whisper - half shouted.
“Quiet both of you. Nina, can you pass that cherry soda.”
As the group was busy comforting themselves, the ghost with scabbed skin and one scooped up eye had an idea. A new idea for his line of mischief.