Episode 10, by Valerie Twombly
“Fucking really? I’m getting sick of this shit,” she yelled to make herself feel better. There was no Prescott ghost. Period.
With a sigh, she placed her free hand on the wall and carefully turned, feeling for the doorknob. Once she had the clunky piece of metal in her grasp, she gave it a twist.
Again she tried, but the cold metal refused to budge. She pulled, hoping maybe the door would pop open, but that failed as well.
“Brant?” Even though she knew that eerie call wasn’t him.
Something cold whooshed by her and caused her to shiver. Once more she tried the door and again it remained stubborn, refusing to open.
She jumped and placed her palm on her chest as if it would help slow her racing heart. “I really need to pull my shit together.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Eric. The basement door is stuck.” The sound of heavy footsteps grew closer and seconds later the jiggle of the handle.
“Shit, Sarah it’s stuck. I’ll have to kick it in.”
Pressure built on her back then suddenly she was falling.
“Aaaaghh!” Sarah reached out to try and grab something, anything that might keep her from tumbling down the stairs and killing herself. Somehow she managed to catch hold of the handrail and slow her descent. Finally, she landed with a hard crack on her right arm. Blinding pain shot through her.
“I finally have you at my mercy,” a sinister voice whispered in her ear.
She startled and tried to ignore the urge to vomit. “W-who are you?”
“Well, Granddaughter, I’m the one who’s going to take your life.”
She did a mental search and came back to the story her brother always told. Not possible.
“Oh it is possible and yes, I’m the warlock your family burned alive. I vowed every Hallows’ Eve, I would make the Prescott descendants suffer.”
Nothing made sense and she tried to clear her fuzzy mind and remain conscience. “But why would you kill your own family?”
“Not blood,” he scoffed.
“Not blood? I don’t understand.” She winced as she tried to move.
“I married your great-grandmother later in life. Your blood grandfather died in an unfortunate accident.”
She had this sick feeling he had somehow been behind it when suddenly she was lifted to her feet and shoved against something hard and cold. Pain, anger, and fear shot through her. “I didn’t kill you and this shit is beginning to piss me off.” Way to tick off a ghost, dipshit. Except he was real, there was nothing ghostly about him. In the darkness, she could make out the whites of his eyes.
Realization hit. “It was you in the road, wasn’t it?” His laughter sent her blood simmering. He was responsible for Brant’s death. She quickly remembered her earlier discussion with her deceased husband. Oh Brant, how am I supposed to stop a ghost?
“It was, but unfortunately I wasn’t corporeal. That can only happen on All Hallows’ Eve. Now, I intend to finish what I failed to do that night.”
A sudden crash came from upstairs. “Sarah? Damn it!” A light shined and relief swept over her. Eric. She’d momentarily forgotten about him.
“Eric, the ghost is real!” she screamed with an urge to make sure he was safe.
“Well, no shit!” he shouted back as his light grew closer. The Prescott ghost hissed and disappeared.