Chapter 4: 4 – Trace

-

Trace wondered, as he trudged up to the gate in the iron fence, how he’d gotten into this mess.

He really needed to learn to be more assertive. Allowing himself to be prodded into staying all night on Hallowe’en in a supposedly haunted house was really stupid. What if it turned out to be dangerous inside? What if the owner turned up and objected to his presence?

What if he just fretted himself to death with what-ifs?

He sighed to himself. He’d barely even convinced them to stop on the way here at a convenience store where he could buy two cheap flashlights, a lot of caffeinated pop, and some junk food.

Behind him, he could hear the laughter of his new co-workers. They weren’t going to stay; they were going to drive back to civilization and their own beds. They probably wouldn’t even check until tomorrow on the photos and texts he’d agreed to send to demonstrate that he was still there.

Honestly, they’d probably accuse him of faking the pics anyway—of taking them all at once and just spreading out the times he sent them. That would probably be safer, and smarter, if he had any idea how to do it without any details that would give him away, but he hated lying anyway. If he agreed to do something, he always did it, or failed only through extenuating circumstances out of his control.

So here he was, having yielded to a childish dare, walking up to the front door of an abandoned house on Hallowe’en. And just to add a cherry to the whole sundae, the heavy clouds overhead promised dramatic weather appropriate to the setting before long.

What if there were squatters? A serial killer? Rabid wildlife? Non-rabid-but-still-aggressive wildlife? Rusty nails and rotten floorboards? Toxic mold? The owner?

This was a bad idea, and he knew it.

But if he backed out now, he’d be facing ridicule at work for weeks, until something new distracted them, and occasionally even after that. That wasn’t anxious speculation, it was experience speaking. So what else could he do?

The way the house wrapped forward at the front at either end, like a cat’s whiskers folding forward around prey, all accentuated by the stone-and-metal fence that extended it outwards and closed it off other than the immobile gates, made him feel even more uneasy. It was a bit like a courtyard, although less completely enclosed.

He climbed the steps, hesitated, then tried the door. If it was locked and there was no way in, then he was legitimately off the hook, because he just wasn’t breaking windows or anything.

The door didn’t budge.

There was, however, a key lying on a stone table, a big metal thing on a dark ribbon.

In all fairness, he had to try it. He rather hoped that it wouldn’t work in the door, but it did, turning smoothly and without effort.

He opened the door, stepped inside, and took a selfie, with the flash, of himself in the doorway. He sent it off with a quick note: «I’m in.»

The silence was eerie. He pulled out a flashlight, and closed the door behind him. The cheap light offered little real illumination. Maybe he could settle down somewhere near the back of the house where no one would see the odd flash of light from the road or driveway, somewhere with windows so he could have at least hints of ambient light. The flashlights weren’t going to last all night, he was sure of that.

The flashlight was so weak that he couldn’t see much of his surroundings even when he tried sweeping it over furnishings and walls; it was just too dim to reach far with any degree of effectiveness. He could, at least, see his feet and the floor immediately in front, but that was about as good as it was going to get.

You are reading story Haunted at novel35.com

So he went straight ahead, hoping he could avoid getting lost. Considering how huge this place was from the outside front, it would probably be easy to do.

Wandering mostly blind, he stumbled over a room with a shape he could recognize even in the poor light. Reverently, he pulled the drop sheet off a grand piano. It was tragic, the thought of what uncontrolled variation in temperature and humidity, lack of protection from dust and insects, and simple lack of use had almost certainly done to what had once been a beautiful and elegant instrument. It couldn’t possibly be in tune.

He circled the room, and found a great harp, also covered. He had no experience with harps, but it didn’t take an expert to realize that the notes when he ran his fingers across the strings were flat and discordant. It must have been a work of art, once, the pillar as tall as he was, and traces of coloured inlay remained.

He returned to the piano, and cautiously seated himself on the bench. He switched off the flashlight to save power; he didn’t need to see for this.

It was definitely out of tune.

That was a shame for him personally, along with being just appalling to see these gorgeous instruments mistreated and abandoned. Music could have kept him company and kept his spirits higher while he was here.

He’d never been one of those cliche kids who tried to ditch piano lessons and never practiced. He’d loved every minute of it, and had expanded enthusiastically into vocal lessons as well. While trying to pick up the fundamentals of drums, planning to move on to guitar, he’d realized that he wasn’t going to be able to make a living at it, and he’d settled back to just his own voice and the electronic keyboard that would fit in a small apartment.

It just wasn’t the same as a proper acoustic piano, and he’d never had the chance to play a grand piano, not even a medium-sized parlour grand rather than a full-sized concert one.

Sadly, he kept messing around on it, wondering whether he could work with it anyway. It was a forlorn hope, but he had nothing better to do.

Lightning flashed, blinding to dark-adapted eyes. Before his vision had time to clear, thunder rumbled, an escalating drum roll that climaxed with a massive crescendo that shook the house. Seconds later, he heard rain against the window with violent force.

Apparently the universe had decided to tilt the scales further in the direction of his staying here all night. Going out in that would be a nightmare of sensory overload and cold wet misery.

That key had been flat the last time he’d touched it, he was certain of it. Now it sounded pure and true.

Perplexed, he started low and went high, one key at a time.

Every key sounded perfectly in tune.

He blinked at the piano.

Why could he see it clearly, illuminated by soft yellowish light?

Why did the wood no longer look cracked and peeling, now a polished glossy cherrywood finish that he couldn’t help stroking reverently?

“You seem to know what you’re doing with that,” a rich, wonderfully-modulated male voice said, somewhere behind him. “Please, play for me. I’m not fussy about what—pick anything that you enjoy and are familiar with. There’s sheet music in the cabinet to your left, if you need it, quite a wide range of it. I’d really appreciate it.”

You can find story with these keywords: Haunted, Read Haunted, Haunted novel, Haunted book, Haunted story, Haunted full, Haunted Latest Chapter