Kissed by a shadow

Chapter one (The house that waited)

"You're not welcome here.

The sound of the elderly woman's icy voice made me stop.

As the wheels of the luggage slammed on uneven pavement, I turned to her and tightened my hold on the handle. She stood at the driveway opening, partially hidden by the fog coming in from the cliffs. Her eyes were black and unexpressive, her face lined.

"Excuse me?" I said, my voice neutral.

She waved at the house behind me with one twisted finger. "It knows you're here."

I shivered down my spine.

I attempted a smile. "I appreciate your care, but all I want is a new beginning.

The woman shook her head slowly, her lips narrowing to a tiny line. "No one in that house is starting from zero." It just takes. And it has been waiting for somebody like you.".

The air grew heavier with some unseen substance as a wind gust wailed through the woods. Three tales of Gothic windows and crumbling stone, the house loomed behind me, its dark form stark against the storm-gray sky.

I swallowed. "I'll be all right."

She backed away and melted into the mists like she'd never been there, although her face didn't alter.

I heard a loud bang behind me.

My heart pounding, I spun around. The iron gate had closed by itself.

The environment smelt of ancient paper, dust, and something a little metal, like rusty iron. or colour of blood.

I slipped my trunks in the lobby, and my footsteps resound on the marble crystal floor. High vaulted ceilings with intricately carved designs onto the wood beams in the room. The air wasn't right.

It was not particularly cold. But I had the impression that the house was waiting because something was making my skin crawl.

Having dismissed the impression, I reached into the pocket of my coat for my phone. No assistance. Numbers. The Wi-Fi was supposed to be functional, but the real estate agent said that the cliffs interfered with transmissions.

With my shoes scratching the flawless stairs, I changed my direction and headed for the big staircase. The house had been deserted for years, yet someone had Been taken care of it. The floors were clean, and the decor was bound in new white linen.

At the top of the steps was a long hallway with untampered doors. Mine was at the other end , opposite the bluffs.

My hand moved towards the door handle.

"You are not welcome here."

The words of the old woman still delayed in my mind. I turned the handle and dismissed it.

The door creaked as it opened.

With its lofty ceiling and lofty arched window that looked out to sea, the room was cavernous. One wall was dominated by a massive four-poster bed with the covers still pulled in with military tautness.

One chair was turned towards the window.

It was occupied.

My heart slammed into my ribs with impact.

The occupant did not stir. didn't breathe.

For a while, neither was I able to.

Then I noticed—no—a variation in the lighting. The chair was simply draped with a coat.

I blamed my own paranoia as I slowly and tremulously breathed out.

I placed my phone on the nightstand and stepped to the bed. The windowpanes groaned under the increasing wind outside.

Then— A murmur.

I froze.

It was a low voice. The words were too low to make out.

It was coming from the hallway.

I crept out of the bedroom. The hall was clear as it ran in both directions. Quiet.

Another mumble.

My cadence was beating as I walked towards the sound, which was heading towards a door at the other end of the lobby that I had never seen before.

Within the twinkle of an eye, I noticed something passed. A shadow.

No. No shadow. A figure.

standing in the doorway.

My throat tightened each breath.

The unmoving, upright shape was half-concealed in the shadows. My belly clenched because the air surrounding it was also off, too thick, and distorted the minimal light.

I stepped back.

The earth creaked underfoot.

The shape shifted.

A blast of cold air hit me when the door exploded shut.

I gasped with my back against the wall. My lungs hurt, and my legs were numb.

It was too long and too thick in quiet.

Then, right next to my ear, there was a whisper.

"Lema."

I ran.

I rushed down the lobby, my heart beating like a battle drum. The house was indeed alive, but I could hardly hear my shoes on the spotless floor.

as I rushed, the shadows stretched, moved, and closed in, as though the walls were inhaling. It was not merely a whisper brought about by the wind. The voice that I had never heard but somehow knew had been murmuring simple inches from my ear.

When I reached the staircase, I was shivering and gripping the balustrade. As though the house had sucked out the rest of the daylight, the air felt darker and heavier down below. Down below, the huge entrance stood still and waiting.

"Get out." My instincts were screaming as the thought tore through my mind. But I did not stir.

I turned instead.

Behind me, the hall was longer than it had been before, the doors duplicating into the darkness and on into infinity. The final door, the one that had slammed shut, was open. Waiting.

I clenched my stomach.

My name was what the whisper had called. My name.

I should have run. I should have turned and grabbed my keys.

But I felt a tug. A thread. I couldn't identify the memory.

I moved forward.

The air snapped the moment my foot crossed the threshold, as if it had been waiting for breath. The window was slightly open, so the curtains moved, and the moonlight washed the room beyond.

The room was half-repeated by the mirror of a big wooden wardrobe that was leaning against the opposite wall.

Then I saw it.

There was no movement in my reflection.

I was motionless, but my reflection in the glass turned.

A slow, purposeful lean.

My throat closed on my breath.

A hand was raised by the reflection, and the palm was pressed flat on the glass.

The hand of a man.

I stepped back, and my reflection took a step forward.

The figure within took another step, pressing against the glass like water as it warped.

Then it said, "You finally came back to me," in a voice crafted from longing and despair.