The Ghoul's Little PlayThing

Keiran's heart stopped.

His eyes were still wide open as the man's finger remained pointed in his direction. He quickly blinked twice, looked left, then right.

There was no one else around him—everyone beside him had cleared the instant the man's finger rose in his direction.

Even Marcus.

As Keiran turned around to look at him, Marcus's face was down, completely avoiding eye contact with Keiran. At this point, it was about survival—and survival alone.

"EVERYONE JUST CALLED—MAKE YOUR WAY INTO THE FIRST JET WHILE THE REST OF YOU, BACK TO YOUR ROOMS FOR TODAY!"

The man screamed through the blow horn, then grabbed the transmitter again. Static. Then:

"I need a clean-up on the training grounds immediately."

A voice rose through the transmitter again: "Clean-up crew coming."

Someone stepped forward first—Jasper Hayes—and then everyone slowly accepted their fates as they all stepped forward, lazily dragging their legs into the jet.

Keiran's feet still refused to move. He turned his head again to see the other students walking away.

Marcus paused for a minute, just before he narrowed his eyes and mouthed, "Survive."

Keiran raised his foot and took the first step, then the second, before his body finally took off—and every step started to feel natural again.

They all got in the jet, even the man.

Just before the jet took off, Keiran looked out to see men in white overalls and sanitary masks—with mops, buckets of water, soap, and a broom.

He turned his eyes back into the jet—particularly to the man.

That was all she was to them now.

A mess to clean up.

Keiran clenched his teeth so hard they almost cracked.

The jet took off in an instant.

*****

After several hours of flying, the jet finally stopped as it began its descent. Out the window, all Keiran could see was a giant fence surrounding a mansion too big to see its back.

The doors of the plane opened. Luscious greenery cascaded on either side of them. It was midday, and the sun had perfectly placed itself on the left edge of the mansion's roof.

The mansion was old—too old—as its concrete walls had several cracks bordering on condemned. Its glass windows were broken, and the wind fluttered the curtains from the inside out. The color of the mansion was ash grey—not naturally, but from years of neglect and denudation.

Keiran stared at the building as an eerie feeling crawled its way up his chest. There was something clearly wrong here.

The wind made everything flutter in the air, as everyone's hair was being pushed to the side. The man still stood tall, and the five soldiers he brought with him lined up behind him.

In a very tense tone, the man spoke.

"Demonic Hauntings."

Demons were scary enough as it was. A light chuckle left his body.

"After Human Divinity came into existence, so did Demonic Hauntings. Demons thrive where there are negative emotions and thoughts. Then what could be said about a graveyard—or a torture chamber?"

Hauntings are places that have so much negative emotion and so many horrific scenarios surrounding them that demons are at their most powerful there.

"Normally, a demon could only be physical through possession of a child, but when they get lucky and find a place like this, they need no physical body—and as such, they are at their most powerful."

"There are only three known ways of stopping a Demonic Haunting. First is to exorcise them, which is close to impossible. Next is to expel the demon by finding the cause of the haunting and freeing it—or them. Thirdly, is locking the place up and leaving it be, like we did. And then lastly... is die trying by blowing it up with an obsidian bomb."

A small pause.

"And we don't want to try the last one yet."

The students with Keiran just remained silent, until Seraphina Langford spoke, her left hand digging into her right.

"How do you know if we're done?"

The man scratched the back of his head.

"Oh... Uhmm, you see that door?" He pointed at the door of the mansion. "You see it's slightly open?"

She nodded.

"Well, when you enter—it'll shut permanently, until one of two things happen: either you complete the mission, or you... well, die."

They all swallowed hard, their eyes turning back to the mansion, before Luca Armandez tapped the shoulder of one of the soldiers.

"Come on, guy, just let us go… or just let me go."

Desperation filled his expression as he slammed his hands together and fell to his knees.

"No one's gonna know if you just let me go. Just me."

Still, as he begged and pleaded, another soldier glanced his head over to the man's direction—who just gave a slight nod before rolling his eyes.

BANG.

The shot echoed as the all jolted back.

The gun's tip was still loosely blowing smoke as Luca's body fell to the ground with a silent thud, the blood draining from his head. The area around the gunshot was pitch black and growing—like an infection.

The man turned to the rest of them.

"Any other complaints?"

Approaching the mansion with a sense of dread deep within them all, Keiran was in front, leading them—with Seraphina to his right and Jasper to his left.

He took the first step onto the creaking wooden floor, the entire thing feeling like it could crash in at any time. Through the cracks grew moss—green moss, damp and lively growing. Keiran noticed something.

Finally at the door, breath in his throat and stomach churning, he glanced back. Behind them, in the distance, were the soldiers—watching them like a farmer leading pigs to the slaughter. Arms folded. Eyes narrow.

Keiran's muscles tensed as he reached for the door handle, twisted, and pulled it.

A gust of wind escaped the house, brushing past him like a whisper in the air. Every fibre of their being screamed leave now—but to turn around would mean death.

He stepped inside.

Then Seraphina.

Then Jasper.

They took another step, clustered together—before the door behind them swung shut.

WELCOME TO THE MANOR.