"Friction in the relationship creates a negative energy—fuel for whatever's here to feed on," Dad said as we walked down the hall. I sighed and nodded.
"It thrives on fear, latching onto that negativity, mocking it, twisting it. It's a cycle," I added.
Rose spoke up next. "And it's using that energy—to mess with the clocks, knock down pictures, open the front door, scratch the cellar walls. Maybe even the birds. Maybe not."
"Well, it's working," Carolyn muttered, pushing open a door. Inside was a neatly made bedroom with a single bed, a wardrobe, and hardwood floors. She hesitated before speaking again. "This is where Andrea had that experience on the bed."
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"How do you know when they're around?" Andrea asked. We were in the living room—just the two of us. Mom was with Cindy, Dad was recording with Carolyn in the kitchen, and Rose was outside with the other girls.
"I get goosebumps," I admitted. It was like stepping into a freezer in a warehouse—cold and sudden.
Andrea ran her hands over her arms. "So if I get goosebumps... does that mean they're near me?"
"Maybe. Can you tell me what you've seen?" I asked, clasping my hands in my lap.
"I'm not sure what it was," Andrea murmured. "My mom thinks it's the thing scratching at the cellar door." After our conversation, I let Mom know where I was going and headed outside.
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"Whatcha doin'?" Rose sat on the ground with the other girls, a delicate flower crown perched on her head.
"Checking out the barn," I replied. She didn't hesitate to get up and follow me.
The dark red barn loomed ahead, and as we stepped inside, I pulled the heavy door shut behind us. My eyes landed on a flashlight sitting on a nearby shelf. I grabbed it and flicked it on, sweeping the light over the cavernous space.
"This place isn't good," Rose muttered.
I nodded. "Tell me about it. How the hell do we let her down easy? Five kids, a haunted house, a shitty husband... those girls are terrified." I truly felt for the Perrons. How could they live like this every day? I wandered toward the back of the barn, mid-conversation, when Rose's voice suddenly cut off. Like she had trailed off mid-sentence.
I turned—expecting to see her—but she was gone. My breath hitched. As far as I knew, there was no rope inside the barn. But when I turned again, I saw them—legs dangling. A dress skirt swaying slightly.
"Holy fucking shit," I whispered. A girl hung from a rope tied to one of the rafters. Her neck twisted at an unnatural angle, eyes seemingly locked onto mine. I stumbled back, heart hammering. Frantically, I turned to the door and tried to shove it open. It wouldn't budge. "Open the door!" I shouted, banging my fists against the wood. "This isn't funny! Rose! Rose, where are you? Let me out! Please!" Behind me, the body began to sway. Panic surged through me as I pounded harder, screaming for help.
Then, suddenly—the door burst open. Rose stood there, wide-eyed. I stumbled forward, spinning back to the barn. She was gone.
"What the hell?" Rose whisper-yelled, gripping my shoulders. She was just as shaken as I was.
"Rose," I rasped, "the woman in the cellar wasn't the only one who died here. Someone hung themselves in the barn."
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We sat around the kitchen table—Mom, Dad, Rose, Carolyn, and me. We had no choice but to tell them what I saw. It was their house, after all.
"Do you think she's the same one Cindy saw?" Carolyn asked, hands folded over the table.
"I don't know," I admitted, still trying to make sense of it.
Dad exhaled. "When these things invade a home, sometimes it's because something invited them here."
Rose nodded knowingly. It wouldn't be the first time we'd seen a case where teenagers held a "harmless" séance and unleashed something far worse.
"I've asked the girls, but we need to know—have either you or your husband ever practiced any kind of Satanic worship? Anything involving the occult?" Mom asked.
"My God, no," Carolyn responded, face contorting with both shock and disgust.
Rose leaned forward. "People dabble. They think it's just a game—play with a Ouija board, hold a séance—and before they know it, they can't get rid of what they called upon." She glanced at me, a silent acknowledgment of our own past mistakes.
"With what Lizzie saw in the basement, this house might have been a satanic shrine at some point," Mom said. "Do you know the history of the farm?"
"Just that it was built in the late 1800s. We bought it at an auction through a bank trust. Never knew who the owners were," Carolyn sighed. "I always wanted to live in the country. I thought it would be safer than the city." I swallowed hard. I wished it were that simple.
"This house needs to be exorcised," Rose said. "But for that, we need the church to authorize a priest."
"I'm fine with that," Carolyn said, though her voice wavered.
"It's not that easy," I said. "We have to provide proof that something is really happening here."
"Why?"
"Because it doesn't always show itself when we need it to," Mom explained.
Carolyn glanced between us. "And if we can't prove it?"
"Then we don't have the church," Dad said grimly. Carolyn sighed. Poor woman.
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At the front door, we prepared to leave. Dad held the kitchen clock in his hands, examining it carefully. "What's your faith?" he asked Carolyn.
"...I was raised Methodist, I guess," she said with a shrug.
"Have your children been baptized?" I asked.
"No, we're not really a church-going family," she admitted.
Rose shook her head. "You may want to rethink that. Without faith, you have no protection."
Dad met Carolyn's uncertain gaze. "Our presence here could make things worse."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because we're a threat," he said simply. "And whatever's here? It won't like that."
A wave of emotion flickered across her face.
"This is your home," Mom assured her gently. "And Ed, the girls, and I will do everything we can to make sure it stays that way. No one likes uninvited guests, okay?" Carolyn nodded as Mom pulled her into a hug.
"We'll talk to the historian in the morning, see what we can find," Dad added. "It'll be a few days before we return. We need our tech guy available, and someone to film everything." I glanced up. Cindy and Andrea stood at the top of the stairs, watching us with worried expressions. Let's just hope for the best. Everything's going to be fine.
"Are you ready for this next case, girls?" Dad asked as my best friend and I made our way downstairs into the kitchen.
Rose was staying with us that week—the week everything changed. Her parents had gone on an anniversary trip, and since she didn't have anywhere else to go, my parents let her stay over, not that she didn't already do that every weekend. I remember my sister, Judy, was at school that day.
"Next? You mean we get to tag along again?" I asked, shock lacing my voice as my mother handed me a plate of breakfast.
After my parents figured out I had the same powers as Mom, they allowed my best friend and me to help them with an investigation. It had been chaotic, and I didn't think they'd let me go again—not after what happened last time.
"Yes, next. You're eighteen; we can't stop you. And Rose, you're really good at this, despite being so young. I'm so proud of you both," Mom smiled while working on a fresh cup of coffee, and Rose looked at me with the biggest grin.
"Aww! Lorraine, you're the best!" Rose responded, pulling Mom into a hug.
"Where are we going?" I asked, a smile tugging at my lips as I sat down across from Dad, who was reading the newspaper and sipping his coffee.
"Rhode Island. The Perrons claim to have had some strange occurrences—pictures falling off the walls, one of their daughters screaming in the middle of the night because she thought she saw someone in her room," Dad said, folding up his newspaper and looking at me over his reading glasses.
"So, a typical haunting?" I questioned.
"Wake up, girl, there's no such thing as typical in this field!" Rose snapped, making me giggle slightly as I took a bite of my scrambled eggs.
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It was an incredibly nice house. Two stories, a decent size for a family of seven, though I could tell something had gone terribly wrong there. I could sense it. Something terrible had happened, and something worse was to come.
"This has got to be it," I said, looking up at the home with wide eyes.
"That doesn't make this any better!" Rose crossed her arms over her chest. Dad and Rose were just regular paranormal investigators with no psychic abilities, but we could all feel the energy pushing us away from the property. Looking back, I think we should've just listened.
"You feel it too?" Mom asked, crossing her arms over her beautiful ankle-length dress. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans.
"Yeah, this is bad," I replied, pushing myself forward. We walked up to the large, dark wooden front door, which was pulled open to reveal a woman, maybe in her twenties or thirties.
"Carolyn?" Mom asked, smiling at the woman. Rose raised her brows at me, as if asking if I could see or feel anything. Sadly, the dark energy latched onto Carolyn's back made me shiver.
"You found it okay?" Carolyn smiled at us sweetly, seeming not to notice the thing grabbing hold of her. I gently elbowed Mom, and she nodded in acknowledgment.
"Yeah, no problem," Dad said, smiling. Carolyn led us inside, where her five daughters were gathered in the living room.
"Oh, this is my daughter Lizzie and her friend Rose. They've been helping us," Mom introduced us, pointing to each of us as she said our names. Rose waved while I nodded at the woman.
"Lizzie, hi," I smiled, shaking Carolyn's hand firmly.
"Rose," Rose smiled.
"I'm Carolyn. These are my daughters—Cindy, Andrea, Nancy, April, and Christine," Carolyn said. We began discussing the hauntings in the home, though I felt uncomfortable. Rose seemed to notice and kept her hand locked with mine almost the entire time. As I smiled at the girls, I noticed a tall, dark figure—like a sixth sibling—standing nearby. An intruder.
"...In the last few nights, it's gotten even worse," Carolyn explained, arms crossed over her cardigan.
"And these apparitions—do any of them have a smell?" Rose asked, taking notes in her notebook, as always.
"The one I saw... it was horrible, like rotting meat," Cindy said. Rose and Cindy said the last part in unison, and Rose and I exchanged a worried glance. That was common knowledge in this field.
"I knew it," I whispered, looking down at my beat-up sneakers. My other hand, the one not holding Rose's, was shoved in my pocket, playing with a string of grounding beads as I ran through possible scenarios in my mind.
"What? What is it? Please," Carolyn begged, looking very worried. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to worry.
"It usually indicates some kind of demonic activity," Dad said. A wave of fear and panic washed over their faces, and I tried my best to reassure them.
"It's not the worst we've seen," I said. Technically, I wasn't lying.
"Oh my God," Carolyn sighed nervously. Dad glanced over at a few doors lining the hallway, where frayed ropes were tied to the doorknobs.
"It keeps them from banging at night," Carolyn said.
"Comes in threes? Bang, bang, bang?" Dad asked, knocking on the wall. Carolyn nodded, and my stomach dropped as the sense of dread became stronger.
"Uh-oh," Rose whispered nearly silently. I simply nodded.
"It's an insult to the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—and I bet it stops at dawn," Mom added. Another nod from me, and I looked at the ground, trying to hide the worry on my face.
"God's light," Dad finished.
"Whatever it is, it thinks it's funny," I pointed out.
"Do you have a dog?" Rose asked, looking out the back window and noticing a collar wrapped around a cross made of sticks.
"Used to," Carolyn replied, a sad expression on her face. I don't know how I knew this, but I did.
"A black lab?" Mom asked, seemingly noticing the same thing.
"Sadie. She choked herself with her chain outside, right? Andrea found her," I blurted.
"How did you know that?" Carolyn asked, staring at me with a mix of concern and bewilderment. I simply shrugged.
"I saw it," I said.
"She has the same gifts as me. We just... see things," Mom explained, as my eyes drifted to a door blocked by a chair. Mom noticed it too and walked over to it.
"We don't go down there anymore," Carolyn said, not moving from her spot, as though her feet were glued to the floor.
"Why?" Dad asked, already moving the chair.
"Because there's something in there that keeps scratching from the other side," Carolyn said.
"Animal scratches? Not uncommon for a new house," Rose suggested. Dad moved the chair and opened the door, revealing deep, violent scratches on the walls and door.
"Not an animal," I said. As I neared the stairs for a better look, I saw something—someone—sitting in the dark shadows.
A woman, sitting with her back turned to me, holding a bloody knife. A wave of sadness washed over me as I took a step forward, descending the stairs to the woman, and I gently placed my hand on her shoulder.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Her pale, decaying face, with only the whites of her eyes visible, snapped back, looking at me.
"Look at my mess!" she screamed, blood pouring from her mouth. I screamed and fell backward, snapping out of the vision.
"What the hell did you see?" Dad asked, helping me up off the ground.
"Someone died... in here," I gasped, trying to catch my breath after the fall.
"Rose, get her back upstairs," Mom demanded. Rose lightly grabbed my wrist, and we made our way back upstairs. "This can't be good. She's never reacted to a vision like that. Ever," I heard Mom say. Rose and I sat down on the couch while I continued to catch my breath. Finally, after I regained my composure, the front door swung open.
"The heck?" I whispered, trying to keep my language in check around the younger girls.
"Hello?" Andrea called. We all stared at the door. Then Andrea stood, and I placed my hand between her collarbones, gently pushing her back.
"Back. Stay back," I said, getting up and slowly walking toward the door.
"Who's out here?" Rose called over my shoulder. No response. Just as I lightly grabbed the doorknob, the door slammed shut with a heavy force.
"The wind can't do that. Has that ever happened?" I asked, turning to the girls.
"No, not as far as we know," Christine replied, shaking her head.
"What was that?" Dad called, as the three adults rushed upstairs.
"The door opened by itself, then slammed shut," I said, my eyes still glued to the door.
"Is everyone okay?" Carolyn asked, placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"Yeah, we're good," Rose replied. With that, we went upstairs.
"Tell them about the birds, Mom," Andrea said, leading us up the stairs. The rest of us turned to Carolyn, slightly confused.
"It's the strangest thing. They fly into the side of the barn. Necks get broken. All kinds of them," Carolyn explained. She grimaced at the thought, and I pouted. Poor birds.
"And things have been getting moved around a lot. The table in the kitchen was blocking the door this morning," Cindy added in a hushed tone as she walked behind us.
"And the clocks. They stop at 5:15 AM," Carolyn added. We all turned to Rose, the tech-savvy one in the group.
"All of them?" Rose asked.
"Every single one," Carolyn confirmed. The wall by the staircase was bare, full of nails sticking out of it. Carolyn noticed Dad carefully inspecting them, possibly looking for damage or something.
"We used to have family pictures, but something keeps knocking them off the nails, so I just stopped putting them back up," Carolyn said.
"And Roger hasn't seen any of this?" Rose asked, brushing off the clock thing as she wasn't sure how to explain it if the clocks worked fine during every other time of the day.
"Nope," Carolyn replied, shaking her head with a disappointed sigh. I couldn't help but feel bad. She was a struggling mother with five daughters, a haunted home, and a husband who didn't believe her. I couldn't imagine how it felt. We reached the top of the stairs and stood in the hallway when Carolyn added, "It only happens when we're gone. He thinks it's all in our heads." She crossed her arms over her chest.
"He's not being shown anything on purpose," Dad said, exchanging a glance with Mom.
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