I’m dying. They sent me on a simple mission to explore an old house, but everything went wrong. The eerie stories were right about the house; the unidentifiable writing on the walls, that strange green glow, and the female figure with flailing arms. Now I can’t move anymore.

Maybe someone will find me before it’s too late…

Certain Death - Season 1 Episode 3

From the way the report reads, there’s someone or something living and moving up in the attic—but it’s not a ghost.

“Hello?” I stand in the doorway. It’s dark outside, the moon’s dark, the sky’s dark. Something above me stirs. I tell myself that’s likely not a ghost.

I breathe in deeply and take in a much-needed breath of air.

The rays from my flashlight pierce into the darkness. A layer of dust covered everything, and cobwebs drooped from every ceiling corner. Looks like someone hasn’t lived in this house in an awfully long time. I close the door behind me and hit the light switch out of habit and even though I expected there to be no power; the lights flickered on. They were dim, but enough for me to get around.

My flashlight goes out. I tap the device a few times, but it’s refusing to turn back on. I changed the batteries just today. Something tells me it won’t be illuminating anything in this place for me. A presence controls the energy here.

My jacket is so damp and heavy that it feels as if something is pulling me to the floor. So, I remove my jacket and set it on the back of an old dusty chair in the foyer. I’m getting too old for this.

There isn’t a sound to be heard, no movement.

The silence is intimidating. But I sense something behind it. A sensation I can only describe as—an entity. I get myself to shuffle my feet further down the hall, past the stairs.

At first glance, I thought the walls covered in wallpaper were of an elaborate design, but upon closer observation, I make out writing. To make matters even worse, the text is in a language I don’t recognize. The script looks ancient. No matter how interesting that normally might be, it isn’t encouraging. My abilities don’t always perform well across unknown cultures.

I’ve been reading, or should I say, examining the text down this hallway for what seemed to be an eternity when I hear something rustling behind me. It sounded like it came from up the stairs.

Normally I’d believe it was my imagination, but things just keep getting more and more real to me. Standing at the foot of the stairs, I want to run, but my fear is too strong and I hesitate.

I force my first few steps up the long staircase. I cringe with every creak. My senses heighten. The lighting on the second floor is even worse. A stench of death fills the air. It’s absolutely putrid.

Is that a figure at the top of the stairs? I squint my eyes to help peer through the shadows. The figure is female and wearing a nightgown that looks soaked with what I assume are blood stains.

I blink my eyes a few times and look again. The figure vanished. Even though I am trained in psychological and paranormal phenomena and consider myself to be in control of my thoughts, had I imagined it?

Maybe that’s all it was, and I’d just become so engrossed in the situation that even my mind played tricks on me. Can happen to the best of us.

I reach the top of the stairs. On the ground is a puddle of liquid. I don’t dare check to see what it is, but as I lean over to examine it, a door slams. I look up, startled. Down the hall is a light green glow.

I don’t know why I’m scared, but I’m trained for this and won’t bend to my fears. When I was new to the agency, I feared nothing. But perhaps that was youth ignorant of what most folk don’t know about or don’t want to know about—ready to take on what might come across my path. But I have seen and felt things over time that have caused fear to creep into my thoughts. I push the negativity out of my mind.

The boards in the hallway squeak under my footsteps, but I reach the source of the glow. It’s the attic door. I pull it down and climb the ladder.

When I reach the top, that small green glow is on the other side of the attic space, so I move closer to investigate. I’m trained for this and have been on countless successful missions.

The source of the green glow is only a few feet from me now.

It’s only early September and not that cold outside, but the surrounding air dropped at least 20 degrees. I can see my breath when I exhale. This isn’t good, but I’m the best agent we’ve got. I reach for my bag of salt and metal filings and I realize that they’re in my jacket pocket that I left downstairs because it was weighing heavily on me. This is nothing but the trick of a malicious spirit. It’s been controlling my thoughts and instilling fear in me since I entered this wretched place.

The green glow in the corner manifests into the female figure I had seen earlier. I scramble backwards and trip over a beam and cut my side on an exposed nail. It’s deep. I grip my side in pain. Blood trickles through my fingers.

The figure floats closer to me. I halfway get to my feet and sprint towards the ladder at the other end of the attic space. I feel something swipe through me. I turn and see flailing arms. I leap for the open attic door. I fall through but manage to grab hold of one of the top steps.

The ladder slides up fast and unexpectedly. It crushes my hands. Holding on is no longer an option. I drop and hit the railing, but bounce the wrong way and fall to the open living room on the first floor below. The fall alone wouldn’t kill me, but my neck snapped on impact. I can’t move.

My breaths are short and shallow. The glowing figure looked down through the attic door above. To my side is a corpse long ago expired. It wears the same blood stained nightgown that the specter wears. The report was wrong.

I’m tired. I need to close my eyes for a moment.

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