A Star Is Born!

All Beverly Summers ever wanted was to be a star.

The dream took hold of her at three years old- little Bevy watching a svelte young woman bat big lashes at the camera. How confident, how mature, how . . . beautiful she looked!

Beverly Summers wanted to be that. She wanted to be like the glamorous women she saw on TV- a far cry from the whiskey soaked couch cushions and cigarette burned sheets of her childhood home. As soon as she could, Beverly hitched a ride out of that Podunk town and kept going . . .

Until she ended up stuck in another Podunk town.

She resided in Briscott Manor, one of the most infamous buildings in town that was otherwise unremarkable. Beverly was quite sure that she could never leave.

It wasn't all terrible, her housemates could be interesting- for example, Charleston was a fast talker with tons of stories about his private investigator days. Henrietta might deign to sit with you and talk about things like composing or her fiancé. Beverly will admit that Captain Harding, a formal Naval captain that took up a headmaster position at the old school in town, was never first on her list for socializing- he was too intense, and really needed to mellow out.

The one she really avoided was Edward Briscott, grandson of the town's founders and the owner of the manner. Luckily, he preoccupied himself with pacing and bursting into fits of rage or hysterics in the master bedroom.

This fall season was looking to shape up much the same as previous years. Some test of courage from groups of student chumps, dividing the rad from the square, and they would get as far as touching the door before scampering away, social status in tact. No one had come through those doors in a long time.

But, then-

"Heavens! What in God's name is that!" Henrietta's sharp exclamation rang clear and high. Beverly leapt up from her seat, scrambling to the manor's attic. She could hear the pounding footsteps of Charleston and the Captain as well, coming from different directions. Charleston was the first to reach the door to the attic, tearing it open and leading the charge.

The attic wasn't that large, so as soon as they step in they see Henrietta. She stood, hands wringing together, in front of the window that overlooks the driveway of the manor. Carefully, the trio walk forward past trunks of old clothing, cloth covered furniture. They slowly converged upon Henrietta, who glanced over her shoulder at them before pointing towards the window.

"Look." she whispered.

People. There are people, hopping out of a van. Men and a woman are coming out, and bringing with them strange contraptions. But something looks vaguely familiar . . .

"I think that's a camera." Beverly whispered.

"Don't be ridiculous," Charleston scoffed. "It looks like no camera I've ever seen before."

"That's because you died before video cameras came out." Beverly pointed out. "What do you think they're coming in here for?"

"Looks like they've come to visit." Harding grumbled. They all looked at each other and started running out the room, to the foyer where they could see the strangers. Beverly, gripping onto the railing of the second floor landing, leaned forward to better hear the strangely dressed people.

". . . Think this is going to be another waste of time?" A man with a clean shaven head asked of his younger friend.

"I don't know man," The higher pitch of the man's voice does nothing to hide the apprehension in his voice. "Don't you think this place feels weird?"

"This place feels like a health hazard." The other man retorts. "Yo, Shelley! You're the medium, what are you feeling?"

Shelley looked right up landing, but her eyes kept sweeping back and forth, never landing on them for longer than a second. "There are a lot of spirits here." Shelley concluded.

A medium! Groovy, Beverly thought.

"Perfect. I love to hear that Shell," in through the door walks another man. He's sizing up the foyer, slowly spinning around and gazing at the old oil paintings and faded wallpaper. "This is going to be our best episode yet. Ghost Trails centennial episode at the haunted Briscott Manor! If we're lucky one of these poor shmucks will give us a couple of words on EVP, or we can catch an orb in a picture. But I'm about to make these ghosts famous!"

Voices, orbs- Beverly didn't know what any of that meant, but he said they were going to be famous! Were those fancy, strange cameras of his able to pick up ghosts now?!

"Oh My God, I'm gonna be a star." Beverly whispered. A harsh, rasping laugh from Captain Harding interrupted her daydreams, and she turned to glare at the weather worn man.

"Well, suppose they can pick up ghosts on their fancy boxes, and put them on those tee-vees what you say exists," Captain Harding mused. "Have they anything that can defend against ghosts? It's all a matter of them being able to get out of here."

"Ah," Charleston hummed, glancing over Beverly to the left. The young woman looked over as well, and saw exactly what Captain Harding was talking about. Edward Briscott lurked half in and out of the shadows of the hallway to their left. His eyes were locked on the newcomers, gaze hungry and smirk twisting his face awfully. That's right, Beverly realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach. There was never a visitor to Briscott Manor who, from the moment they stepped over the threshold, had ever managed to escape with their lives.

But, Beverly couldn't give up this chance! "Well, then, I'm going to have to make sure they do." She stared at Edward Briscott, and the man's gaze slid from the ghost hunters to her, his smirk widening to a toothy grin.