I drive along the narrow country roads, the outlying branches bound to scratch the

side of my car. I switch my headlights on as darkness starts to swallow any view I

previously had of the road ahead of
me. As I continue to drive along, the top of a roof comes into sight. 'Here we
are..' I think to myself. The building comes closer into view as I park on the
gravel. It's hauntingly beautiful. The sun has set
right behind it, causing the scene before me to look like a detailed silhouette
attached to a watercolour painting. I pull out my phone and snap a few quick
photographs, posting them on Instagram. I
captioned the photo, 'Spooky, right? This haunted home is where I will be sleeping
tonight. Be sure to tune in at 9 p.m. sharp!' with a few ghost emojis at the end. I
quickly post it, though it struggles a bit
due to the poor service of the secluded area, and after about 5 minutes, my phone
is flooded with notifications. Likes, comments, shares. I smile, and I make my way
into the house. I don't actually
believe in ghosts. I think that it's just the fact that our brains want something
to believe in when we see and hear, supposedly, unexplainable things that could be
considered unnatural and paranormal.
However, there is a wide audience for this kind of thing, a wide audience willing
to pay for the hope of catching a glimpse at something supernatural from the
comfort of their living rooms. And for the
most part, the pay is good. All I have to do is sell the already-appointed story of
'haunted house' or 'ghostly apparitions spotted here', and the money comes rolling
in. I enter the house through the
doorway, and I'm instantly greeted by a lack of light. I switch on my phone's torch
and search the walls for a light switch. I find one quite close to me, and I switch
it on. The lights are dim and flicker every
so often, adding to the overall creepy vibe of the building. 'That would make great
content.' I think to myself, making a mental note to try and get that on camera
later. I wander through the house,
which is relatively small compared to what the outside lets on. I enter the living
room, which is dated and dusty. My producer informed me that the previous owners up
and left without explanation and
that the house hasn't been lived in since. Straight off the bat, I notice a fowl
smell. I can't quite tell what it is, but it gives me a strong urge to throw up.
However, I quickly rationalise the putrid odour,
reminding myself that the house has been abandoned for years. Most old houses smell
rotten. I continue my walk around, wanting to get familiar with the rooms before I
set up my cameras. I move
towards the kitchen next, which looks pretty mundane and, well, ordinary. 'Perhaps
I will skip filming in here.' I think. I head towards the stairs, passing a closed
door on the way. I try to open it, but it
seems to be locked. I ignore it for now and head upstairs. Up here, there are two
bedrooms and a bathroom. The bathroom is rancid. Everything seems to be stained a
murky shade of brown. I decide not
to ponder over what the cause of these stains is, but I do think it will get the
attention of a lot of viewers, so I choose to make it a key point of tonight's
episode. Next, I stroll into the first bedroom, which
is decorated with outdated curtains and furniture. Dust seems to cover every
surface, and cobwebs plague every corner they can find. A cool breeze washes over
me, which is a nice change from how
stuffy and uncomfortable the other rooms seem to be. Finally, I walk over to the
last bedroom. Again, this room seems to be frozen in time, with vintage decor and
dust everywhere. I take notice of the
bed, which appears to have multiple large holes in it. 'Moths' I immediately think,
but I'm sure I can put it off as something more sinister. I make my way back down
the stairs, every other step seeming
to yell out in pain as I place my weight on it. I head back outside, the night air
still and silent; the only sounds are the occasional chirps of crickets and the
rustle of birds in the trees. I open the boot and
get my filming equipment out. Quickly, I lock the boot and start to walk back up
the gravel path to the house. As I am walking, I look at the downstairs window,
noticing that the lights are now off. 'Faulty
electrics' I rationalise. I open the door. The lights are on again, still dim and
flickering. I brush it off and set my things down in the living room. I pull out my
camera as well as my lavalier microphone. I clip
the mic onto my shirt and fiddle with my camera for a bit before finally switching
it on. "Hello everyone! Welcome to this week's paranormal investigation. Today, I
am here at a seriously spooky house in
the English countryside. " I pan the camera around the living room, showing off the
antique furniture in the room—again, everything covered in cobwebs and dust,
completely undisturbed. The lights
flicker again. 'Perfect opportunity,' I think. "Woah, did you see that?! Now I know
what you are thinking—perhaps the electric in the house is faulty. But I can tell
you all, wholeheartedly, that we had all
the electrics refitted and checked before I came to film here tonight," I lie, "so
I truly have no clue what's causing the lights to flicker!" I walk towards the
mysterious, locked door, purposefully skipping
past the kitchen. "Now this is really weird," I tell the camera. "This door is
locked from the inside. But how! I've tried to open it, but it won't budge. Really
weird, right?!" I point the camera at the door and
shake the handle a bit. "Anyways, let's continue on upstairs!" I tell the viewers
as I slowly step up the creaky staircase, showcasing the mouldy, ripped wallpaper
on my way up. I decide to go into the
rancid bathroom next, thinking that it will be sure to disgust the majority of my
viewers. "Be warned, this next sight..is not the most pleasant. If your squemish,
you should probably look away." I warn. I
take a breath before slowly opening the door, gagging every so often for dramatic
effect. I finally open the door fully, waiting to see the horrible, stained
bathroom. I saw it not even 15 minutes ago, and I
am yet again greeted by it. But there is something else. Red stains. Red...liquid?
In the bath. I blink a couple of times. 'That wasn't there earlier, was it??' I ask
myself. I clear my throat. "How repulsive is
this!? If you could smell how bad the odour is in here, I'm sure you guys would
want to be sick too!" I say this to the camera again before flipping it around to
show all of the stains up close. "And what is
this red liquid?? It wasn't here before." This time, I don't have to lie. "Perhaps
it's blood!" I say, but I truly wonder if it is blood. And if so, whose is it? For
the first time, I feel genuinely concerned. I mean,
I'm the only one here. So who, in the span of 15 minutes, could have entered the
house, gone upstairs, and smeared blood all over the bathroom without my knowledge?
Its impossible! Either way, I go
into the bedroom with the ripped mattress next. As I walk over to the room, I
notice someone standing in the window of the other bedroom. I steadily walk over to
the door, the floorboards crying out
beneath me. I peer through the door, but the room is empty, like before, with a
blanket of cobwebs and dust encasing every surface. 'Don't be stupid. Of course
there was no one in there. Just your mind
playing tricks on you.' I reason with myself. "Ok, so this next room has something
completely unexplainable in it too!" I turn my attention to the camera again. I
walk into the room. I direct my camera
towards the holey mattress. "What happened here?" I rhetorically ask. "You might be
thinking, perhaps it's moths, but look at the tear by here! I would say that looks
like something ripped it open,
wouldn't you?" I shake my head from behind the camera, knowing how many people will
actually believe what I'm saying. I turn towards the dresser in one corner of the
room, and my heart skips a beat.
Whereas everything else is covered in dust, there is a small, child-like handprint
on top of the dresser and, next to it, a key. 'I'm sure I didn't touch that
dresser... I didn't touch any surfaces,' I say to myself.
Despite the odd feeling I get, I start to film the creepy handprint. "This is so
weird. I swear this wasn't here earlier!" I say, having to lie less and less. I
glance at the key. It's small and ornately crafted. I pick
it up and stuff it into my pocket. I turn to leave the room and head back
downstairs. As I face the doorway, I jump a mile. A small child is half hidden by
the door. She looks frightened and pale. 'Must have
got lost and saw my car outside' I think. "Hey, sweetie, are you okay? Are you
lost?" I ask her gently. She doesn't say a word. She just seems to be staring at
me. Wait. No. She's looking behind me. I
quickly turn around. Nothing's there. I let out a sigh of relief. I turn back
towards the door. The girl is gone. I completely forget about my camera for the
time being; making sure this kid is okay is far more
important. I briskly walk back down the stairs. The air feels cool down here as
well. Weird since it was unbearably warm down here earlier. I place my camera down
on the table, not bothering to explain
what has occurred to my viewers. Instead, I focus on finding the girl and ensuring
her safety. As I search the area, my mind races with questions about who she was
and why she seemed so frightened. I
can't shake off the feeling that something isn't right. I walk into the kitchen.
There was no sign of the girl. I walk into the living room. Not there either.
'Perhaps she left?' No. Something doesn't feel right.
I hear a door creak. My heart jumps, and I turn to try and figure out the source of
the noise. No doors have moved. I feel bile crawl up my throat, and I force myself
to swallow it back down. 'Perhaps I
should just leave. I don't like the feel of this place anymore.' I feel my
scepticism start to dissipate, unable to explain what's going on. I become aware of
the weight in my pocket. The key. I lift it out and
study it. Its small. I glance around, my eyes fix on the locked door. I remember my
lie from earlier. The door isn't locked from the inside. There is a small keyhole
just below the handle. I walk over to the
door. Hesitantly, I push the key into the hole, turn it, and it clicks. I shiver as
I slowly open the door. Another horrid smell hits my nostrils. It's worse than what
I smelled earlier. More pungent. I take my
phone from my back pocket and switch the light on. Wooden stairs lead down into
what seems to be a basement. With unsure steps, I make my way into the basement. I
wish I hadn't. The smell is worse.
Rotten and sickening. I reach the bottom of the stairs, and I gasp. There, on the
floor, surrounded by a pool of blood, was the young girl. A petrified look etched
on her face. I cover my mouth as I try not
to throw up. It appears that her neck has been snapped, as it hangs to one side. I
rush back up the stairs and grab my camera, tears flooding my eyes. "This is not a
joke. I have just found a young girl
dead in the basement of this house. Please, call the police and tell them where I
am. Quick!" I cry before shutting my camera off and running outside. I immediately
call the police, and within ten minutes,
two police cars have arrived. An officer waits with me outside while the other
three go into the house. I attempt to calm down; however, it proves difficult with
the image of the poor girl engraved into
my memory. After a couple of minutes, the officers make their way back out of the
house, confused yet annoyed looks on all their faces. One officer walks over to me.
"We didn't find any dead bodies or
blood in the house. Are you sure that's what you saw?" he asks me. "Yes! Yes, I
swear there was a young girl down in the basement. H-Her neck was broken, and she
was bleeding!" I tell him frantically.
He gives me a look that tells me he doesn't believe a single word that I'm saying.
"Look, I get that you do your ghost-y show and whatever, but stop wasting our time!
I'm going to have to ask you to pack
 up and leave this property, please. I will also be in contact with your producer
to prevent any further practical jokes such as this. Now good evening," he says
sharply. I stare at the officers, dumbfounded,
as they begin to drive away. I walk back in, collect my things, and walk down into
the basement one last time. Sure enough, nothing is in there. 'What on earth...' I
think as I emotionlessly walk back to my
car. I place my equipment in the boot and unclip my microphone. I slip into the
driver's seat soundlessly and spare one last look at the house. I stare in shock
as, from the living room window, I see the
little girl, her neck dislocated and hanging to one side, as I had found her in the
basement. My jaw drops. I feel panic rise in me as I desperately drive away from
the house. I try not to let tears blur my
vision as I speed down the dark country roads. My head is clouded with disbelief as
I try to process what happened. However, my journey is cut short. Before I have
time to react, another car comes
crashing into mine. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. I feel the impact as
well as a sharp, agonising pain in my neck. I feel my consciousness start to slip
away, and the last thing I see before I
close my eyes for good is the little girl...and myself beside her, our necks now
matching.

(2531 words)