Through Their Eyes

The Phantom’s Plea

Emby despised Fright Wood, with its gloomy skies and eerie bare trees. It always left her feeling deeply unsettled. Despite her winsome demeanor, Emby’s insatiable curiosity often led her into troubling situations. Her favorite respite was tea time, a moment of solace where she could calm her fretful mind by sipping tea beside a window with a mesmerizing view. Skylar knew Emby cherished those moments, finding comfort in the gentle chirping of birds and the distant hum of the town beyond. Though her friends perceived her as a saint, they were unaware of the complexities that lay beneath the surface. Emby held knowledge of the chilling events that had unfolded in Fright Wood over the centuries; stories that went beyond mere bedtime tales. Most nights, Emby found herself still and silent in her room, poring over ancient texts and cryptic journals detailing the unexplained phenomena that plagued the town some time ago.

One rainy day, as she gazed out of her window, the petrichor scent filled the air, triggering a sense of foreboding. A figure appeared in the distance. It was the peculiar Skylar standing beyond the dripping wet trees. She was someone who was shunned by the town for her oddities. Emby stepped outside and walked towards the trees. Her heart raced as Skylar approached, seeking Emby’s help in a desperate plea.

“Help me please,” she declared.

Touched by Skylar’s hand against her cheek, Emby was overcome by a wave of sorrow and pain. And just as quickly as Skylar had appeared, she vanished, leaving Emby grappling with unanswered questions.

Emby retreated back to her home as her heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and empathy. The rain continued to drum against the window, a steady rhythm matching the tumultuous emotions swirling inside her. For days, Emby found herself haunted by Skylar’s plea, the touch on her cheek lingering like a phantom sensation.

The first strange thing happened before Emby ever saw the figure beyond the trees. Her tea, pale and sweet only seconds before, darkened until it looked like oil. A film spread across the surface and formed a perfect circle. Inside it, a girl’s face appeared with her mouth open in a soundless scream.

Emby dropped the cup. It struck the floor but did not break. Instead, it rolled back toward her as though pulled by an unseen hand.

Then the clocks stopped.

The small clock above the stove froze. The second hand of her wristwatch halted. Even the rain seemed suspended against the glass for one impossible breath. From somewhere inside the walls came three careful knocks.

Emby scarcely shook her head and told herself it was just the pipes until the sound of three more knocks answered from beneath the floor.

When she looked out the window again, Skylar stood at the edge of the trees. Her white prom dress clung to her body, stained dark at the hem. Emby blinked. Skylar was closer. Another blink, and she stood halfway across the yard. Her bare feet left no impressions in the mud.

“Skylar?” Emby called.

The figure tilted her head too far to one side. Emby’s fear told her to lock the door. Her guilt made her open it. Outside, the rain struck her skin like needles. Skylar’s lips were blue, and bruises circled her wrists. The smell around her was not rain or earth but cold stone, burned herbs, and something metallic.

“Help me please,” she declared.

When Skylar touched Emby’s cheek, the world tore open. Emby saw ropes tightening around pale wrists. She heard men and women chanting beneath animal masks. She felt a blade press against skin that was not her own. Most terrifying of all, she felt something moving underneath the ground, rolling over in its sleep.

A voice entered her mind but it wasn't Skylar’s.

“You looked through her eyes. Now I can look through yours.”

Emby jerked away. Skylar vanished, but wet and muddy fingerprints remained on Emby’s face. In the window behind her, Skylar’s reflection was still standing there.

And it was smiling.