Who's There? - A Short Story of Mystery, Crime, and Fiction

“Who’s there?”

The answer was the clicking of a light switching on and off, and the wind gushing through the broken window. The light above swayed in the wind creating eerie shadows against the walls as the light flickered at a steady pace. A trembling sigh escaped the girl, her voice echoing in the empty building. She could have sworn she heard someone or something move. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking. The stone walls around her were stained with brown splatters. She couldn’t tell if it were simply dirt or blood. She ignored the logical side which told her it was blood; she didn’t want to believe it. Her footsteps echoed throughout the hall, forming a rhythm with the creaking lights.

The girl questioned why she had decided to enter the abandoned mansion. The uneasy feeling in her stomach grew with each step she took further down the hall. Half of her wanted to run, and half wanted to stay. The camera that hung around her neck urged her to continue despite her worries.

Rosalind

The faint whisper of her name drifted down the hall. She froze. What was that? Where did that come from? Her ears strained to listen for any sound of movement. Again the only answer was the flickering light above her.

Deciding to shake off the fright in order to stop freaking herself out, Rosalind continues down the hall toward the large, wooden double doors. They stood towering above her. Back in the day door frames were larger in homes of those with higher status. Clearly, the people who once inhabited the house had to have money. Carving of leaves and roses rose and fell against the wooden surface creating depth.

Lifting the camera from around her neck, Rosalind took pictures of the intricate woodwork carved into the doors. She knew they would look great in her next blog post about abandoned buildings and their architecture.

As the camera snapped its third picture, the figure of a man could be seen in the flash. Rosalind snapped her eyes shut. If she couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real- at least that’s what she tried to tell herself. Her hands clenched the camera as tight as her fingers would allow. Her muscles ached from the tension drawn up in her body. The fear that coursed through her veins was hard to push aside. She tried to reason with herself. It was just the shadows from the lights. Deep down she knew it wasn’t true but she forced herself to believe it anyway.

Reluctantly, Rosalind opened her eyes. She spared a quick glance behind her and was relieved to see nothing there except piles of crumbled concrete. She let out a sigh of relief. It was all in her head, it had to be. There was no man lingering in the building. There was no voice calling out her name. There were no sounds of other life. It was the wind and her imagination working against her. It had to be. They were trying to convince her to run when she knew the photos which awaited her in the room in front of her would-be spectacular.

She pressed forward. The large doors ahead of her opened with a groan. A smell so horrid hit her as soon as stepped into the room. Rosalind choked as she took it in. Her body recoiled backward. Where was that coming from? What was that coming from? Questions and assumptions swirled through her mind. She wanted to tuck her tail and run but humans are creatures of curiosity. They strove to uncover the secrets of others and Rosalind was going to do just that. Her eyes scanned across the large room, doing her best to ignore the stench.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream filled the room. Rosalind’s hands shook. Her eyes widened. She was frozen.

Strown across the couch lie a couple. Their bodies lie lifeless. Blood soaked the cream-colored couch to the point where it simply seemed red. Only hints of cream poked out beneath the reddish-brown. Splatters of blood covered the floors, ceiling, and furniture around the couple. Their faces were unidentifiable due to the numerous stabs across their bodies. The sight was gruesome.

Rosalind’s heartbeat rose even higher when the sound of fast footsteps approaching reached her ears. Her head grew heavy. Why had she come here? Something had drawn her to this place, but why? The footsteps stopped just behind her. Was she going to be next? Would she end up just like the couple dismembered on the couch? She would be stabbed just as they were. She would become unrecognizable just as they were. She would be left dead just as they were. No one could save. She was in an abandoned mansion for goodness sake. Very few people knew of this place. She was going to die. She was going to be murdered.

She stood frozen for minutes on end. Nothing happened.

“Just get it over with.” She begged. This anticipation, this fear was killing her.

But nothing happened.

Taking a chance, Rosalind turned to face what would be her killer. There was nothing; there was no one. Why was there no one there? She had heard them, the footsteps.

Rosalind

The voice from before called out to her. She swirled around searching for any sign of life.

Rosalind

“No.”

Rosalind

“No.”

It was you

She could vaguely remember the feeling- the rage. The feeling was so intense her heart felt as though it was burning. Her hands clenched at her sides. She stared at the ground in horror.

“Stop it.”

You did it

She could almost feel the cool blade of the knife as the backside pressed against her palm. Red, hot liquid dripped off the item and down her hand before falling to the floor. A puddle formed beneath her as she stood staring. Her arm pulsed as it remembered the motion of moving up and down, digging into something hard yet soft.

“No!”

You killed them

Two shadowed figures edged toward Rosalind from across the room. Rosalind took a step back. She knew who they were. When the figures reached the light, the faces of those murdered on the couch in front of her were there. She didn’t want to look at them, but she couldn’t look away. She couldn’t move. They stared at her, slowly creeping forward.

You did it

She shook her head. “No!”

You killed us

“No! It wasn’t me!”

In a flash, the ghostly couple stood in front of Rosalind reaching for her. She tried to run but she couldn’t escape them. They gripped her throat. Their nails dug into her skin drawing blood.

You murdered us

She choked, gasping for air. She couldn’t breathe. She panted for any grasp of air she could get. They only tightened their grip in response. She shook her head desperately. Tears streamed down her face as her vision blurred. She could feel herself slipping out of consciousness.

How could you

We loved you

…

Rosalind snapped awake from her sleep in horror and shock. She didn’t do it, she couldn’t have. She would never. She refused to believe it. How could she- she loved them.

“Who’s there?”

Muffled voices had Rosalind studying her surroundings. Her eyes were blurred and her hearing muffled. Stark white walls surrounded her. Monitors beeped to her side. The steady beating of her heart was reflected by the monitor. People clad in suits surrounded her- a deep contrast to the white room. Who were they? The lips moved but she couldn’t hear them. It sounded as though she were underwater. She tried to move but failed. Her body was tied down. Cool metal brushed against her wrists and ankles. Glancing down, she could vaguely make out handcuffs.

It was you

Rosalind shook her head. Wriggling in the hospital bed she pulled at her restraints. She had to get out. The monitor beeped louder and faster as her heart rate rose. Hands placed themselves on her body holding her down. Shouts were exchanged across the room as the frantic nurse reached for something on the table behind her. When she turned back, the nurse wielded a sharp needle. Rosalind shook her head once more, tears falling down her face. Like a wave, she could finally understand what everyone around her was saying.

A deep rumble of a voice filtered out a sentence Rosalind did not want to hear. “Rosalind Roussou you’re under arrest for the murder of your parents Charlotte and Daniel Roussou- with 50 stab wounds to each you will be charged with two counts of capital murder.”

A sharp prick in the arm followed, almost like a pinch to see if this was a dream or not. Her mind drew blank and her body stopped fighting. She was lost in a daze. As the sedative drove Rosalind asleep, she slipped back into her dreams. The recurring memory playing on repeat in her head. She was back at the mansion, standing in that long hallway. The sound of footsteps rang out behind her.

“Who’s there?”

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/savannah-wenk/