Horrible Harper

Chapter Two - Episode Three

4 The Scene

The sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow hallway, growing louder with every passing second.

His breathing was heavy, rapid, as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He stopped suddenly, pressing his hand against the cold wall, his eyes darting left and right in fear.

The shadows seemed alive, whispering in his ears, mocking his trembling body.

His heart pounded violently, each beat threatening to tear his chest apart.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw a figure lurking at the end of the corridor—silent, unmoving, watching.

He clenched his fists, summoning what little courage remained, and took a step forward.

The silence that followed was more terrifying than the sound of pursuit.

The night swallowed his voice when he whispered to himself:

"I have to keep going… I can’t stop now."

Scene Five

In the garden in front of the house, Harper sat beside Robert, Margaret, and Charles. The atmosphere was calm; the evening breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, and the chirping of birds gradually faded as night approached. It seemed as though silence had settled over the place, until suddenly it was broken by loud voices coming from a nearby house.

The argument inside grew more heated, overlapping voices shouting sharply, making the group uneasy. They exchanged glances in silence, while Harper followed the noise with far more interest than the others, as though something about it was pulling her in.

Suddenly, the door of the neighboring house flew open violently, and an angry young man stormed out, slamming it shut behind him with such force that the echo reverberated through the street. He stopped for a moment, panting from the intensity of his anger, then cast quick, restless glances around him.

The people in the garden froze for a few seconds, astonishment written on their faces. But Harper did not look away; her eyes were locked on him, filled with a strange mix of curiosity and unease.

Robert noticed this at once and tried to break her trance:

– Robert (in a low, impatient tone): Let’s go inside... This has become far too disturbing.

Margaret nodded in agreement, and Charles rose quietly. Harper, however, lingered for a moment, her gaze still fixed on the young man, until Robert gently touched her arm, pulling her back to reality.

They all moved toward the house, entering one by one. Robert closed the door carefully behind them, leaving the noise of the quarrel and the darkening street outside.

Scene Six

The night weighed heavily over the house, shadows cloaking everything in a suffocating darkness. In Harper’s room, only the steady rhythm of her breath could be heard as she lay in bed. Yet something deep within her stirred—an unseen force pulling her awake.

Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the pitch-black room. She sat up, compelled to move, as though the darkness itself whispered to her. Bare feet touching the cold floor, she crept to the door. With a trembling hand, she turned the knob and pushed it open. The silence of the night spilled inside. She slipped out, swallowed by the shadows.

In the next room, Robert and Margaret slept soundly, their breathing even, while Charles remained lost in his own slumber. None of them noticed Harper leaving.

She stood in front of the neighboring house—the same one where, earlier that day, a young man had stormed out after a furious quarrel. The memory of his rage burned vividly in her mind, igniting something darker within her. She advanced slowly, moving with a predator’s caution, her eyes sweeping over the house.

At last, she reached his window. It was ajar. Inside, the room lay in near darkness, save for a faint streak of light slipping through, falling across the sleeping boy’s face. His expression was calm, untroubled.

Harper climbed carefully, her body twisting like a shadow as she pulled herself through the window. She landed on the floor with barely a sound and rose, her eyes locked on him with a chilling, unblinking stare.

Her gaze drifted across the room, and there it was—his trousers hanging neatly from a wooden hanger in the corner. She approached with deliberate steps, pulled the belt free, and coiled it in her hands into a tight loop, a makeshift noose.

She crept back to the bed. In a single swift motion, she slid the loop over his head and tightened it around his neck. With a strength that seemed unnatural, Harper pulled back hard.

The young man’s eyes flew open in shock. His body jerked, mouth opening to scream, but only a muffled gasp escaped. He thrashed, clawing at the belt, but her grip was merciless—unyielding steel in the form of fragile hands. She tightened again, relentless, as his struggles grew weaker.

Foam began to bubble from his mouth, white and trembling, his breath rattling in his chest. His body convulsed once more, then went limp. Silence reclaimed the room.

Harper held the belt taut for a few more seconds, until certainty washed over her. He was gone. She loosened her grip, slipped the belt from his neck, and calmly returned it to the trousers, as if nothing had been disturbed.

Moving with the same ghostlike precision, she climbed back out the window, dropping into the cool night. Shadows enfolded her as she made her way back to her own house.

The front door was still ajar. She slipped in and shut it gently behind her. The hallway lay in darkness. For a moment, she paused outside Margaret’s room, her eyes fixed on the door with a strange, unreadable intensity. Then, without a word, she continued on.

Back in her room, she lifted the blanket, slid beneath it, and lay still. With one final, cold exhale, Harper closed her eyes and returned to sleep—peaceful, as though she had never left her bed at all.