Chapter 003: The Morrow House

***

After the acceptance of the dare, the Scooby Gang left to go into the "haunted" house.

That meant making a pit stop at Sasha's and Quinn's houses—Sasha so she could change out of her crop top and plaid skirt into a more practical striped long-sleeved shirt and acid-washed jeans and get the camcorder the four of them would use in their plan, and a second in case the first died, and her bag, and Quinn's so they could get flashlights. Sure, Emmy knew they could have grabbed a flashlight from their places, but Quinn's parents always had loads of tools in their shed, including flashlights. And besides, with Quinn's house... her folks hardly cared if Quinn smelled like beer and weed. Emmy's and Ben's folks and, to some extent, Sasha's, Quinn's on the other hand...

Flashlights were easier to get at Quinn's.

With what they needed—and Emmy glad her trusty denim jacket, long-sleeved, turtlenecked grey shirt, faded dark denim jeans, and her black Converse had been both a good party and haunted house outfit, Ben's jacket and sweater and jeans combo and Quinn's striped shirt, brown sherpa jacket and jeans also practical for a haunted house so they didn't need an outfit change—they got in Sasha's car and made the short drive to Ashwood Drive and to where the Morrow House was, already grinning and joking about the ghosts they would see, that the camcorder would probably record only time-rotted furniture, peeling walls and a lot of dust instead of any so-called ghosts haunting Morrow House.

If she was being honest, Emmy was actually looking quite forward to it, something in her that wasn't weed buzzing at the idea of being in Morrow House. Maybe it was her love of creepy things that had shifted into her love of forensics and wanting a career in it. Maybe it was the teenage thrill of being in something so creepy and so infamous. Maybe it was some other third thing. Maybe it was all three. Emmy didn't know, and she didn't particularly care. She was just excited for this—and by the energy of her friends, it was mutual.

When they got there, Sasha parked the car and turned it off just as they walked out—and saw the Morrow House.

Before time and abandonment dug its claws into it, Morrow House had once been quite nice—a grand two storeys with white pillars supporting the overhang of its first roof, dark paint on its walls and white trimmings, and a presence that screamed it was grand. But now, Morrow House showed its abandonment, as no one wanted to live in a house where two murders had happened in it. The paint was peeling and weathered, and in some places showing bare wood, the white trimmings were chipped and discoloured, the windows boarded up, and the pillars had fine cracks in them. Plants crawled up the pillars, pushed through the porch steps and the wooden planks of the porch, and draped across the first roof and dangling down. Even the house's presence had changed—it felt abandoned, but more than that, there was something about it that felt ominous, that had shivers skittering across Emmy's skin and goosebumps prickling on the back of her neck, like Emmy should be turning the other way and running until she was back in the safety of her home. Like something strange and dangerous did lurk within its dilapidated halls.

Like if she or her friends stepped in it, then they would be making a grave mistake.

But even despite that feeling, Emmy couldn't move as she stared at the Morrow House, feeling... drawn to it, to climb up its rotting steps and walk along its creaking floors, that something was pulling her to it, whispering as the same eerie stillness from earlier settled over, the dark shadows of the night distorted and strange, and even more strange in the Morrow House, as the attic window—the only window not boarded up—seemed darker than the shadows around her, like all light had been sucked into it, and it almost seemed to be grinning a sharp-toothed grin, and was it her imagination or was the door opening—?

"God it looks even creepier at night."

Emmy started, seeing Ben grinning as he looked at the house, his flashlight on, lighting up the overgrown, weed-choked lawn surrounding the paved pathway leading up to the Morrow House, her best friend having spoken as he continued, "Maybe there might be some ghosts in there after all."

Quinn rolled her eyes in skepticism as Sasha nudged him, hissing, "Shut up," with a smile.

"Hey, I'm just kidding," Ben said, before he looked at Emmy. The grin faded as he asked, "Hey, Ems, you okay?"

Emmy blinked, almost like she'd been pulled back into herself. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, got a little lost in my head."

"You sure you didn't get possessed?" Quinn teased sardonically.

Emmy rolled her eyes. "Ha, ha, very funny, Quinn."

"Relax, I'm just kidding," Quinn said, bumping her shoulder.

"I know. But maybe you're the one who'll get possessed," Emmy mused, a devious grin on her face.

Quinn shot Emmy a look and elbowed her. Emmy elbowed her back.

"Guys, can we not talk about being possessed?" Sasha requested.

"Relax, Sash, we're just kidding. We're not gonna be 'possessed' like Mad Harold Morrow," Quinn said, finger-quoting as she heavily rolled her eyes.

"That, and he was probably lying," Ben interjected next to them.

"Yeah, I know," Sasha said, before she smiled. "Sorry, guess this place is just giving me the creeps."

"Don't worry, the feeling's pretty mutual," Ben assured. He frowned and rested a hand on her shoulder, saying, "Hey, do you want to go? We can just go home and not do the dare."

Sasha shook her head. "Nah, I'm good. It's just an old house. Nothing scary about an old house."

"Yeah, if you ignore the murders that happened in it," Emmy deadpanned, before she winced and apologised, "Sorry, that probably didn't help at all."

"No, it's fine. I'm good," Sasha assured.

Silence before Emmy asked, "So... wanna head in?"

"Yeah," Quinn, Ben and Sasha said in unison as the rest of them clicked on their flashlights and walked up the cracked pathway to the Morrow House. As they did, Ben turned and quipped, "Is it too late to call an exorcist if we do get possessed?"

Emmy and Quinn rolled their eyes as Sasha smacked the camcorder against a grinning Ben's shoulder, before they walked up the creaking, rotting steps and onto the floorboards. Emmy stepped forward to grab the door handle and turned it.

It gave a rusty groan before it swung inward, the un-oiled hinges creaking like her abeula's joints on a cold winter day, like the skeleton of the house was shuddering and groaning from the door being opened. And even as it groaned and creaked like an old woman, something else seemed to shudder—like the whole house released a sigh out, like it had been expecting them.

"Oh, creaking doors. Already spooky," Sasha noted.

"It's an old murder house," Quinn reasoned, shrugging. "Don't see any ghosts yet, though."

"Give it time—they'll probably jump out and say 'Boo!' when we least expect it," Ben pointed out.

Her friends chuckled and Emmy grinned, pushing away the odd feeling.

"Come on, let's head inside," she said.

They did, one by one entering the house, the floorboards creaking underneath them as the door shut behind them with another bone-like creak.

None of the four noticed that neither of them had closed it. And if they did, it had to be the wind.

What else could it be?

Inside, the Morrow House was as decaying as it was on the outside—dust and cobwebs covered the furniture, stair baluster and knick-knacks on top in thick grey shrouds, the wallpaper was faded and peeling away in long, drooping curls, dust accumulated on a framed portrait of the Morrow family on the wall and a mirror near it. The lamps and overhanging chandelier were similarly shrouded in dust and cobwebs, and it was pitch-dark inside except for their flashlights. Sasha reached forward to flip on a light switch, but no light came—apparently four decades of murder-induced abandonment led to your electrical bills not being paid.

"Good thing we brought flashlights," Quinn observed as they gathered in the hallway, the floorboards creaking under their weight, the carpet doing little to muffle it. The imprints of their footsteps were left in the thick grey dust coating it, and plumes of it puffed up with each step they took.

"Forget the ghosts—you better write your will before you go inside here if you're asthmatic with all this goddamned dust," Emmy noted and they laughed. Sweeping the flashlight, Emmy saw the staircase, what looked like a door leading to a basement, and farther ahead, what seemed to be a living room, kitchen and dining room and another closed door leading to maybe a bathroom, entombed in dust and cobwebs and eeriness like everything else in Morrow House was.

Sweeping her flashlight back, Emmy saw it light up the portrait—a man with greying hair next to a woman with her hair coiffed up and wearing a string of pearls, and three smiling children, two boys, one girl. The Morrows, and the man Harold Morrow, neither in the family knowing that he would murder them and he'd be locked away.

As Emmy looked at it, there seemed to be something about the eyes in the painted Harold Morrow's face, something she couldn't look away from...

"Hey, Emmy! Cheese!"

A click went off and Emmy jumped, seeing Sasha holding a Polaroid camera, grinning.

"Sasha!" Emmy exclaimed, glaring at her friend. "That isn't funny! You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry," Sasha apologised as the photo was spat out from the camera, waving it in the air.

"Why do you have your camera?" Emmy asked, now confused.

"I know the camcorder is to record evidence of there being no ghosts, but what's the point of being in here if we don't at least have anything to remember? I mean, it's practically a ritual by now that I take some photos of us," Sasha explained, showing Emmy the photo—her, staring at the portrait, facial expression curious and, to Emmy's surprise, her hand not holding the flashlight had reached forward to touch the portrait.

Something prickled in Emmy—she didn't remember doing that. But she pushed it away because Sasha was right—ever since she'd gotten her camera, she made it a point to take as many photos of them all as possible, no matter where they were, whether it was photos of them acting stupid, photos of them smiling at the camera as a group, or candid photos like that, they were memories captured in time that they all cherished, that Emmy knew Sasha had put in a scrapbook. Of course her best friend would want to take photos of them being in Morrow House—who else could say they spent the night in a supposed haunted house with their best friends and had the photos to prove it?

So she smiled and said, "Okay, that's on me. Should have known you'd do that."

"Yeah. And hey, maybe some ghosts will appear," Sasha commented, the sarcasm in her voice clear how she didn't expect that to actually happen.

Emmy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, as if that is ever going to happen. Or ghosts being real."

They chuckled before Sasha put the camera and photo in her bag. When she did, she looked at the portrait and questioned, "Why were you looking at this anyway?"

"I... I don't really know. I guess it's kinda creepy that this portrait was made before he murdered his family," Emmy answered, staring at it. Trying not to look in Harold Morrow's eyes.

"I suppose so. Kinda sad as well," Sasha noted as she looked at the portrait.

They stared at it until Ben shouted, "Hey guys! Quinn and I found a good spot to start recording!"

Emmy and Sasha looked at each other before walking back to their friends, the floor creaking underneath them, leaving the Morrow portrait behind—right as a shadow passed over Harold Morrow and made his eyes go black.

"Okay, we're here," Sasha said as she and Emmy arrived, seeing Quinn and Ben standing in front of the dust-coated, tarnished mirror, the camcorder in Ben's hands and the screen flipped out, ready to record them.

Ben grinned. "Great!"

As they gathered around, Emmy asked, "You wanna do the honours, Ben?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Ben replied as he turned the camcorder on.

A red light started to blink as the screen glitched before clearing out, revealing their faces as the camcorder started recording them—and Ben started speaking.

***

CAMCORDER VIDEO FOOTAGE 001

8:15 PM, MAY 27TH, 1987

BEN

Is this thing on? Okay it's on. Okay, we're here in Morrow House—AKA the most haunted house in town! Oooo!

Ben mimics ghost nosies. Beside him, Sasha laughs while Quinn and Emmy roll their eyes in unison at it, though Quinn wears a fond smile as she elbows Ben in the side.

QUINN

You dork. Are the ghost noises really that necessary?

BEN

Hey, I'm just setting the mood!

EMMY

As if you need to set the mood. This place is creepy enough without the ghost noises.

QUINN

Don't you love creepy things, Ms. I Love IT And I Wanna Study Crime Scenes?

Emmy flips Quinn the middle finger. She returns it as Sasha rolls her eyes in fond exasperation and Ben muffles a laugh, before clearing his throat and going on speaking.

BEN

Anyway... we've been dared to spend the night in this house that—get this—had two murders in it twenty years apart and is now said to be haunted! And, even more crazy, the guy who committed the first murder, Harold Morrow, said he was possessed when he murdered his family.

In unison, all four teenagers roll their eyes at it at both the haunted and possessed part.

BEN

So, we're gonna do what has never been done—stay the whole night in Morrow House and prove the haunting's not real with this! 

The camcorder is jostled as Ben points to it, before the footage steadies somewhat as he continues.

BEN

Honestly, I think we're all crazy to stay the night in here, but since ghosts are probably not real and shit, we should be fine.

QUINN

As fine as we can be in this creepy as fuck house.

BEN

 No, you're right, Quinn. This place is insanely creepy. I mean, look—

He swings the camcorder around, catching glimpses of the peeling wallpaper, the dust-shrouded cabinets and knick-knacks and stairs, the tarnished mirror, and the faces of Sasha, Emmy and Quinn, Sasha's looking worried.

SASHA

Ben, if you drop that...

BEN

I won't, Sash! That's more Emmy.

EMMY

Hey! I only dropped it one time.

QUINN

It was a pretty memorable time.

Emmy glares at Quinn who just grins back as Ben swung the camcorder back to face him.

BEN

Yeah, so we're gonna stay here! Wish us luck that—shit!

The camcorder nearly falls out of Ben's hands, but he manages to grab it as Quinn cackles, Emmy rolls her eyes with a smirk and Sasha rolls her eyes, but with no smirk.

BEN

Ignoring that... wish us luck that we won't be murdered!

QUINN

We're not gonna be murdered, Ben!

EMMY

Yeah, exactly. Jesus, Ben. But, it's kinda weird Dylan decided to do the dare again. Being in here does kinda feel like a horror slasher movie.

BEN

I'm joking! But, if Freddy Krueger or Jason or, fuck, Mad Harold Morrow shows up or there are ghosts and we're all gonna be murdered, I'm getting the hell out of here—everyone knows non-white folks are always murdered first.

EMMY

Maybe we'll survive, Ben, and Sasha and Quinn are murdered first.

SASHA AND QUINN

Hey!

EMMY

Kidding! I'm kidding!

She lets out a chuckle as the sharp looks Sasha and Quinn delivered to Emmy melt away as Quinn smiles and Sasha had a contemplative look on her face.

SASHA

Okay, but if I'm being honest, you have big final girl energy, Ems, like Nancy or Ripley.

EMMY

Aw, thanks, Sasha. I think we all give off final girl energy  a little.

SASHA

Yeah, but you and Quinn give it off the most. 

QUINN

Thank you, Sash.

Sasha smiles, before she looks at Ben—or more specifically, at the camcorder.

SASHA

Hey, Ben, do you think you could turn that off now? I know we got an extra one, but I don't really want to waste the battery

BEN

Yeah, no, I agree. I was just finishing up now. So, we're signing off now until this is turned back on again. Hopefully we're not gonna die tonight.

EMMY, SASHA AND QUINN

We're not gonna die tonight!

Ben laughs, and it takes a second for the girls to join in. They all lean against each other, arms looped around each other's shoulder as Ben turns the camcorder off, catching one last glimpse of their smiles, capturing how all four of them believe this is going to be just a fun night in a creepy but not haunted house, that they will capture proof it isn't while making one last memory before summer comes and they go their seperate ways after summer, that they're just four teenagers doing a dare that sounds both spooky and fun.

But as the camcorder goes black, it catches the smile slipping on Emmy's face as she tenses up, looking over her shoulder like she's heard or seen something before looking back, an uneasy look on her face despite the smile.

And the mirror behind the group as a shadow, taller than any human should be, stretches out behind them. And in the spaces of its eyes, is a darker shadow—almost like two voids instead of simple shadow—with a pinprick of red inside it, watching the four teenagers standing in front of it.

The camcorder blacks out.

***

"Well, I think that was a pretty good first video," Ben noted as he lowered the camcorder and handed it to Sasha, who put it back in her bag.

"Yeah. Though I could have gone without joking about us dying tonight," Quinn asked, brow arched as clear sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"I was kidding. We're probably not gonna di—" Ben started, before he noticed Emmy staring down the corridor, a look on her face. "Hey, Emmy, you okay?"

Emmy startled, turning back to her friends, Ben looking at her in concern, as now Sasha and Quinn looked at her in differing expressions of concern.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, just thought I heard a noise," Emmy explained, smiling but it didn't feel right on her face.

"Well, it's an old house. We're probably gonna hear lots of noises," Quinn reasoned.

"Or ghosts," Sasha added, grinning as Quinn scoffed.

"Yeah, ghosts are gonna leap out and shout 'Boo!'," Quinn snarked, but she couldn't back her own grin, as the smile on Emmy's face felt more genuine.

"Hey, if we do see any ghosts, I'm getting the hell out of here," Ben said, raising his hands as Sasha concurred, "And I'll be right behind you."

"Me three, but since ghosts aren't real, we should be fine," Quinn commented, before she grinned wickedly. "So, who wants to explore the house?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Ben said, and he and Quinn walked down the corridor. Emmy made to follow along with Sasha before she turned to the mirror, reflecting the empty hallway. Something about it—the shadows reflected in it—prickled at Emmy, the same feeling of unease she felt earlier right before the camcorder turned off when she heard something. Something that could be the noise old houses make, and yet... and yet, the unease—the same unease she had felt earlier—was telling her something else as she stared at the mirror, reaching out to touch the tarnished, dust-speckled glass, to touch the shadows reflected back at her—

"Emmy, you coming?"

Emmy turned, hand lowering as her friends looked at her, Sasha the one to ask the question. The smile dropped on her friend's face as she asked, "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Emmy answered, turning from the mirror. A half-smile tilted at her lips as she added, "No ghosts in the mirror. Sorry to disappoint you."

Quinn scoffed, rolling her eyes as Ben smirked and Sasha only shook her head, but watched Emmy as she rejoined them and they wandered down the hallway, flashlights shining into the first room—a living room, furniture, cabinets and whatever the Morrows had left behind on that fateful day in funeral shrouds of grey cobwebs and dust—as they left behind the mirror, the portrait on the wall, whispers and laughter already beginning to bubble up as despite the spookiness of the house, they were at ease, because it was just an old house. No ghosts lurking in the corners or jumping out of the shadows. 

Just an old, creepy house.

Neither noticed the shadows growing darker, something stretching out from the mirror, sliding across the walls and ceiling, and reaching with long, claw-like shadows down at the Scooby Gang, the four unaware—even Emmy.

Unaware of the haunting, the horror, that was to come.

***

This was so much fun to write!!!

Yes, we're getting into the spookiness now! And Emmy is definitely sensing something... and something is Not Right in Morrow House... >:)

But this is officially the last chapter where things are normal, because next chapter... next chapter, the haunting officially begins. Who's ready? >:)

Please read, comment and vote!

GhostWriterGirl out!