Her - 2022

Jun 22, 2022

I am a passionately curious man. Some parts foolish, but largely… Interested. Perhaps that was what led me to this endeavour. I am stubbornly sceptical but I seek to be proven wrong, especially when it comes to the paranormal and the occult. I recount my story now, from the beginning. I hope, dear reader, that by reading my account of events, you may act with caution and compassion wherever you tread.

Money was tight. I owned a small house in the suburbs of a small town, but my job didn’t pay well and the cost of everything around me rose sharply. One evening, I enjoyed a horror movie about a paranormal being, some light entertainment. In the film, the haunted mansion in question was sold frighteningly cheap due to the aforementioned entity roaming its corridors. 

Following a fancy, I decided to search the internet for homes for sale at a reduced rate because of paranormal activity. Boredom can do strange things to an individual. After an hour of scanning various sites, I actually found one. The pictures didn’t show much, but the price tag was set at a mere thirty thousand pounds. For perspective, that’s about the price of a brand new family estate car.  

So I booked a viewing. Well… Money being tight meant I didn’t get much entertainment then and I had nothing to lose.  Were this house to be in good repair, I’d seriously consider selling my own home to buy it at a steal. I laughed at the thought. Someone throwing away a fortune because of a fear of something that has no verifiable evidence! This could be my break. Could be.

On the day of the viewing, I gathered some friends as I thought the experience might be amusing. That, and I felt uneasy about going to a place like this alone. Not because of the paranormal, but more because what lengths would someone unhinged go to in an effort to ‘prove’ to me the paranormal exists? A stupid thought, but I never did much trust strangers.

As we rounded the corner, we were greeted by a veritable mansion. A monstrous building reminiscent of a cathedral painted white. Statues and gargoyles adorned carved alcoves that spanned the entire length of the gothic structure. Huge, iron studded doors nestled inside pointed archways. I sighed. Here we go, I thought. This place looked like a stereotypical horror movie set and immediately my internal ‘scam radar’ blared. A house this size would be worth millions! Not the measly thirty-thousand asking price.

A stern old man came to greet us. His face was weathered and his eyes stared far. I stepped up and shook his hand.

“Is this Rooksbridge View?”

The man nodded. “You’re here to view the place?”

“I’m interested.”

That seemed to be enough for him. He glanced over my shoulder at my friends but said nothing more. He waved for us to follow him around the side of the building. 

As we tailed him, a horrendous grinding noise bombarded my ears. The sound of two milling stones turning against one another. I glanced in the direction of the noise to see the dozens of statues lining the walls turning their heads to track me. One at the top turned its head so far around, the stone cracked and the head came tumbling down, shattering against the ground several metres away.

The group jumped. I scowled at the old man and berated him.

“A prank like that could have killed someone!”

My friends shifted uneasily around me. Most were sceptics like me. We all had an understanding that this experience was merely disguised as a house viewing. The old man pointedly glared at the now headless statue but said nothing. He continued, and hesitantly, we followed. 

We entered through a smaller side door into a corridor lined with a red carpet. Most of the furniture had been moved out at this point, so the walls were bare. We continued to follow him down the corridor, turning corner after corner after corner.

“How long is this corridor? And where does it lead?” I asked him. Three right turns? We should be back at the door by now… When I turned to check behind me, all of my friends were gone, except one. I went back expecting to find them around the corner, but when I turned the corner, I saw the door we entered through.

What?

This isn’t right. These walls must be on casters. They move them to confuse us and give us a sense of loss and dread. I shook my head and grabbed my friend’s hand.

“We stick together now so they can’t separate us. This viewing is beginning to grate on me.”

I marched around again to catch up to the old man and tell him we’ve had enough. Only, when I rounded the corner again there was another door. This was a long corridor five seconds ago. Terror exuded from my friend’s eyes. She shied away from the door but I kept a firm grip on her hand.

“It’s okay,” I reassured her, “this is all a set up for their own entertainment. They’ll likely charge us money at the end to ‘escape’ or some nonsense. I’m a fool for bringing you along. I will reimburse you.”

I pushed through the door into a large, open room filled with various items of furniture. Chairs, tables, vases, dressers. It looked like a store room. As we moved through, the furniture began to move by itself and hover in place. I felt my friend grip my hand tighter. 

The words “GET OUT” appeared in black, dripping ink on the walls, written over and over again. More fading into existence by the second.

“Okay!” I shouted into the room, “Then show us the exit and we’ll be on our way.”

All the furniture in the room rose a good metre off the floor than crashed back down, splintering and shattering with the sound of a dozen trees falling at once, cracking and splitting.

Splinters of wood showered us both, but it was not fear that gripped me. I felt anger. Fury. Whoever was running this prank seriously endangered the safety, and indeed, the lives of my friends and I. I growled and tugged my friend through the room, grumbling to myself about suing the owners of this place. 

But then we stopped. 

We heard music. The kind I hate the most. Incessant thumping of electronic sounds that the youth are so vehemently adamant is good ‘dancing’ music. I headed toward the sound, towing my friend along, and we came to another door. I pushed it open to what I can only describe as a full nightclub. Neon lights showered the dark room as a wealth of figures filled the dancefloor.

Is this it? The meaning of this place? A themed club?

The door closed behind us, and when I tried to open it, it wouldn’t budge. 

I had to shout over the headache-inducing noise to let my friend know we had to head to the door on the other side.

We pushed through crowds of youths gyrating and nodding to the singular, unchanging rhythm. I didn’t much want to engage them in conversation, and it seemed like they weren’t bothered by our presence there so we pressed on. 

Finally, we made it to the door. I put my hand on the doorknob and the music and lights ceased at once. I glanced over my shoulder and for the first time since entering this house, I felt fear.

Every last figure in the room stared at us.

Like sentinels, they stood, watching. Dozens upon dozens of glares boring into our skulls. 

I threw the door open and pushed my friend through first, rushing after her and slamming the door shut.

I held the door for a bit, but it seemed nothing else tried to get through. When I turned around to face the new room, I groaned. An identical copy of the last room, only, totally empty and quiet. A gentle glow dimly lit the deserted club, but then panic struck me. My friend!

I called for her several times, but had no response. Then a notion hit me and I laughed. No wonder my friends were so eager to come along. They’re all in on it. Only last week we had a debate about the paranormal. I’d told them I do not believe but part of me wished to be proven wrong. This was all an effort to make me a ‘believer’.

The very thought made me laugh out loud. I called into the darkness.

“Very funny, guys. Come on now.”

But no response came.

I grew unreasonably agitated. The paranormal does not exist. There’s never been tangible evidence or proof, and I always found it strange that ghosts never haunt sceptics. Whatever their game, I was now beyond the limit of curiosity or fun. I just wanted to be at home. Perhaps the quickest way out of this would be to play along with their little game. So be it.

“Show yourself.” I called into the dimness of that empty nightclub. “Ghost of Rooksbridge view, reveal yourself to me. Perhaps I can help, or perhaps you can claim my soul…” I mumbled, “or whatever it is ghosts do.” I felt incredibly silly. To this day, I still cringe when I think about it, though for an entirely different reason. My life was about to change. I didn’t know it then…

A light flicked on above another door. This one was totally black. No handles, no grooves, no pattern. Just a jet black slab like a monolith. I walked over and pushed it open. Upon stepping through, I suddenly felt cold and small… Afraid? 

Ahead of me, a figure sat at a small table with an empty chair opposite. It seemed to be playing with an array of dice sprawled over a green mat. I glanced behind me, and the door was gone. So were the walls. In fact, in that moment, I felt dread. This was my turning point. It seemed all existence had been erased and everything beyond the scene in front of me was void. I felt the floor, but saw only blackness. I saw no light source illuminating the table and the figure. I saw no walls, no ceiling, even the stale air surrounding me seemed… empty. 

A voice called out to me. A whisper inside my head. Not in my ears as you may imagine. This was inside my head. Like a thought, but more… Solid. And not from me. I felt the invasion of it, forcing its way into my mind. I heard no sound but felt a soft, feminine vibe. 

I pulled up a chair, and the figure looked at me. A young woman, perhaps in her twenties, with pale blue skin and empty eyes the colour of bone with no detail. No pupils. No irises. Tribal patterns, a slightly darker shade of blue adorned the skin around those haunting eyes. 

Then she spoke to me in her own voice, and at that moment I knew this was no prank.

“Non-believer. You asked me to reveal myself.” Then the invasive words in my mind again, so here I am.

I cannot accurately describe the feelings I had then. Excitement was one. Elation too. But also fear? Worry. I worried that she’d not let me leave or share my findings. I was excited at having been proven wrong, though. I also cannot explain how I knew this was real, but I knew as surely as you would know a dog when you simply hear its bark. Then, of course, I thought about my friends. So naturally that was my first question. I feel a fool now. Here I had been presented with tangible evidence of the paranormal and of the myriad questions I could have asked, “are my friends okay?” tumbled from my mouth.

She assured me they were unharmed. Did I trust her? I have to say, at the time, yes I did. I can’t explain why, but I felt no malice from her.

“Why are you here?” was the next question I asked.

She told me she was the guardian of this place. She would forever be here to protect it from falling into the wrong hands. I’m not sure entirely what she meant, but I took the answer as satisfactory. She reflected the question back at me. Why was I here? I answered honestly.

“To get a cheap deal on a nice house, I suppose.”

She found that amusing. But in her laughter, I felt great pain. I’m not sure what made me blurt out the next statement, but I’m glad I said it.

“You’re hurting, aren’t you?”

Her expression fell solemn. 

“I should have passed long ago. Being here is torture. I am tormented day by day, night by night.”

“Let me help you.”

The room… It feels odd calling it a room… I guess, ‘space’ would be more apt… The space fell silent. 

I broke the silence by gesturing to the dice on the table. Something in me pressed to help this poor soul. The compassion inside me, I suppose.

“Let’s play a game of dice. If I win, I will help you relieve your pain and purchase the house.”

My request piqued her interest. She waved a slender hand and met my eyes.

“And if I win?”

“You get my soul.”

Something about my answer prompted more laughter from her, but she agreed and gestured to two dice in front of me.

“Best of three.”

I nodded and picked them up, then rattled them in a closed hand and released them onto the table. A four and… What? The second dice showed the number ‘99’. I let out a nervous laugh and confirmed my total. “One hundred and three?”

She accepted this without pause and rolled her own dice. A three and a two. 

“One to you.” She confirmed. 

A ninety-nine? What kind of dice were these?

Once again I rolled, this time the dice acting like reasonable dice should. A five and six! I was satisfied with that roll, but what was to say she wouldn’t roll five-thousand or something absurd? Well, I watched her pick up two dice and release eight. Various shapes and sizes rolled across the table, including some I recognized from games of Dungeons and Dragons.

She counted up her total and the answer came into my mind instead of from her lips. Thirty three. I couldn’t refute it. She let the ninety-nine of the previous round slide. Very well. 

We grinned at one another. 

Preposterous. A sceptic and an actual spirit, playing games, smiling together. This had to be a dream. I was certain that in a few short moments I would awake in my own bed. For now, I played along all the while feeling a kind of kinship to this spirit. I was actually enjoying my time with her.

Grabbing the dice for a final roll, I released them and winced at the snake eyes staring back at me. Two ones. The lowest roll one could get with a pair of dice. I remember jokingly thinking, there goes my soul. Why was that funny to me? I should have been mortified. 

I watched her roll, expecting to lose, but the moment she released the dice I saw the outcome had already been decided, even before they settled. Her dice were totally blank. With two dice, she rolled a zero. I won… I won? But… How?

I rose from my seat, and she mirrored my movement. I felt a warmth in my chest. A kindness. A gratitude. She walked to my side and where I should have been feeling abject terror, I felt pity on this poor soul. Trapped here for an age. She raised her hands and cupped my cheeks. I fought to not pull back at her icy touch. She pulled me close and kissed me on the lips. I… How did that feel? Cold and warm, I suppose. Odd. I’m still baffled by it, even now. But… I miss it.

She stroked my cheek and told me I had a good heart. She readily accepted my offer to help her pass over and embraced me in a hug. I always imagined a ghost wouldn’t be… physical. But here I was, with my arms wrapped around a spirit. Part of me still didn’t believe it. She nodded toward a door that appeared. I walked to it and lingered on the handle for a moment, but when I checked over my shoulder a standard, empty room had replaced the void we previously occupied. 

I opened the door to the outside of the mansion. My friends waited for me, looking a little spooked. The old man was nowhere to be seen. We bundled into a car and went home without saying much to one another.

Only when I settled down in my own armchair, pipe in hand, did the day’s experience hit me. I had time to process everything. To write my thoughts down. And then I realised something horrible. By helping her pass over, I would never see her again. That thought gave me great pain. Was I… In love with her? With a spirit? And now I’d have to keep my promise and help her leave…

And I never even learned her name.

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