- 2 - (updated with illustrations)

Later, Penny would trace everything back to that one moment of foolhardy bravado.  That split-second decision where she decided to rub into Eric’s face, to prove that she wasn’t a coward, that a stupid old house didn’t scare her.  

She should have known that there was something off about the house.  She, of all people, should have known.  

But no.  She had chosen to open the door.  By her free will, she had crossed the threshold.  And everything that happened afterwards--in a way, it all had been her fault.  

She had stepped into the darkness, and within seconds, Eric and Tina had slipped in behind her, the door behind them still ajar, a shaft of thin light filtering through millions of particles of dust.  Penny turned in surprise.  “I thought you were too freaked out to come in here, Tina,” she asked, the words coming out a little too harshly.  

“I didn’t want to stay out there by myself!”  Tina squeaked.  “What if the cops drove past?  What if something happened to you?   And what if Prince Eric wasn’t watching?  Penny thought darkly.  Girls like Tina would do anything for just a glance from a guy like him.  But why had he followed her?  

As if he had read her thoughts, he smirked and said, “I thought you’d feel right at home in a disgusting place like this.  I wanted to see if I was right.”  

Penny stuffed down the urge to smash her fist into his face, and instead pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight.  The side door opened into a narrow landing; the light beamed straight ahead into what looked like a kitchen.  She swung it to the right, and saw stairs descending and then turning downward to the left into darkness.  To their left was another door, the brass knob darkened with age.  She reached for it, tried it, and found it locked.  She rattled the door, hoping to jar it loose, but all she loosened was a cascade of dust that sifted from the ceiling.  Tina jumped at the sound, and even Eric started and then muttered something under his breath.  “Which way?”  Penny asked, trying to sound casual and casting the light back and forth between the kitchen and the stairway.  The house had a damp, musty smell, and behind that, something vaguely sweet.  “Where did you say the people were murdered?”  

Tina shuddered.  “I don’t know--I always ran away before Tyler got to that part.  All I know is that it was a couple kids, and it was a super long time ago.”

“1909, actually.”  Both girls turned, surprised, toward Eric.  The cool smirk had disappeared, and without it, he looked almost like someone Penny could see herself being friends with.  He was studying the door knob with his own phone, his dark hair falling forward, and his expression curious.  “Hey, did you see this?” he asked, pointing at the knob.  The two girls leaned forward.  The knob had been imprinted with some sort of geometric design.  No, Penny thought, not geometric.  Those were arms and legs.  Were those faces?  It almost looked as if the shapes on the knob could be people, holding hands, mouths open, eyes closed.  Weird, Penny decided.  “Not my style,” she said.  “I’m totally into flowers and butterflies.”  Eric snorted.

“Okay guys, this is obviously fascinating and historical and brave and daring, but I totally told my mom I would call her if we were going to your house--”  A clatter from somewhere above made them all freeze.  Tina’s face was white, her brown eyes wide behind her dark framed glasses.  A second passed, and the scurrying sound of rodent feet pattered in the ceiling somewhere above the kitchen.  Eric visibly relaxed, and started smirking again.  Tina swallowed, and Penny rolled her eyes.  It was just a stupid squirrel, or a mouse or something.  

“An old man murdered twin girls here back in 1909.”  Penny shot Eric a startled look.  “My grandma told me about it once,” he continued nonchalantly.  “She always loved to scare the crap out of me.”  

“Your grandma sounds weird,” Penny commented, and stepped into the kitchen.  Eric laughed dryly.  

“Yeah, she was, actually.”  He paused for effect.  “Some people thought she was crazy.  She always claimed that she could talk to dead people.”

              Tina started to dance around like she needed a bathroom.  “Come on guys, I’m getting cold!  Stop talking about dead people and creepy grandmas!”  She adjusted her glasses and then wrapped her arms around herself.  “Can we just see whatever it is you need to see and get out of here?  Seriously!”  
              “Come check this out,” Penny called.  The bottom of the kitchen sink was stained a dark brown, and a length of chain was curled up on the counter next to it.  The vaguely sweet smell was stronger in the kitchen, but the source was still somewhere beyond the room.  The tile above the kitchen countertops had the same pattern of the dancing people.  It almost looked hand painted.  Another clatter from above them made them jump again, and Tina looked as if she might start crying any minute.  
             “I gotta go, guys.  Penny?  Um, let me know about the, uh, party, okay?”  Her eyes darted toward the ceiling, and she backed nervously out of the kitchen.  She gave a final, forlorn look at Eric, and darted out the side door.  
              “I’m surprised she lasted that long,” Eric said smugly.
              “No kidding,” Penny agreed, and then was startled that she was agreeing with Eric.  He was the guy that had stood by, tacitly approving while all those jerks had mocked her.  Why was she agreeing with him?  “Why are you still here?  Isn’t hanging out with loser orphans a little beneath you?”
               “Usually,” Eric shrugged.  “But I couldn’t pass up the chance to see if you were as boring as you seemed at school.”
               “What’s the verdict?” Penny wondered aloud, but told herself she didn’t actually care one way or the other.
               “Jury’s still out.  Depends on if you’ll go in the basement.”  He smirked at her again, and she felt her face growing hot.  
               “What’s the big deal about the basement?  Is that were those kids were murdered?”  
               “Nope.”  His smirk turned into a grin, and Penny found herself paradoxically finding him mildly attractive.  She grimaced.  “That’s where the old man was found.  He had killed the kids upstairs back in 1909, and since they never could prove it, he got to live in the house until he died three years later.  Under mysterious circumstances.”  
                “Oh really.  I suppose you and your grandma would come here and have chats with him just for kicks.”
                “Oh man, not at all.  She wouldn’t set foot in this place.”  His eyes narrowed.  “She always claimed she could hear the kids crying.  That’s how he died, you know.  The kids.  They took their revenge.”  
                 In spite of the fact that she stoutly refused to believe in ghosts, Penny did believe in revenge.  And at Eric’s words, she felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck.  Another clatter from upstairs made her drop her phone, and Eric laughed.  “Jerk,” she muttered.  But then she froze.  There was another sound now, and it wasn’t squirrels or mice.  Eric stopped laughing, and his eyes went to the ceiling and then back to her.  He didn’t look so smirky now.
                She swallowed, and then breathlessly whispered, “Is that… I mean, did you hear--” Her voice stopped working as the sound came again.  Eric nodded, looking nervous.  Penny had never seen him look less self-possessed.  He absent-mindedly brushed the hair out of his eyes, and then pantomimed that they should go upstairs and check it out.
                “Are you kidding me?” Penny hissed, but then the sound came again, and she felt a tug, almost like a physical pull.  

“I think they’re this way,” Eric nodded to the left of the kitchen, and she found herself following him, walking slowly, making as little noise as she could.  She could see by his expression that he was drawn the same way she was.  They passed through the kitchen, and she felt as though the painted dancing figures were watching her.  She tried to think of rational explanations for the sound--raccoons, bats.  Maybe it was all a prank, and Eric was totally faking it.  That was it--they would get to the top of the stairs and one of his buddies, probably that tall blonde kid with the shaggy hair, would pop out at them, and then he and Eric would tell everyone at school tomorrow about how she almost peed her pants in the old haunted house.  She tried to slow her racing heart, and then they turned another corner, and there were the stairs.  

The staircase was a wide, old-fashioned staircase that wound around the side of the room in a slow curve up to a balcony. Several steps had been broken through, and the walnut railing was weathered and scratched.  Several of the turned posts had been knocked out, and sharp pieces of broken wood poked out in all directions.  A dusty, similarly broken-down banister stretched all the way across the front of the balcony, and beyond that, Penny could just see several doors in the gloom.  One door in particular seemed to be the source of the force that was still invisibly drawing her closer.  Part of her brain was frantically trying to persuade her that she needed to get out of there, to go back to her aunt’s house, to do something boring like homework or watch TV or listen to her aunt sing off-key while she did her nails.  But the rest of her mind was honed in on getting to the top of the stairs, on getting beyond the middle door.  It almost seemed to glow to her mind, a faint, pulsing blue.  She heard the sound again and shuddered, but kept pressing forward.  She was vaguely aware of Eric a step or two ahead of her.  The sound grew louder, more insistent, and now she understood what it was.  Voices.
She put her hand on the banister and everything went black.