“And finally she couldn’t take it anymore, so she broke into her father’s study, stole his gun…and shot herself in the head!”
“You dumbass, everyone knows she hanged herself.”
“You guys are both idiots. No one died in that house, it was just a gimmick to attract buyers.”
“What do you think Jace, you’re the one that’s been there before.”
Jace Callahan took one last swig of his beer and chucked the can out into the tangled underbrush. It was a Friday night and he and his group of friends were trudging through the woods on the outskirts of town. It was late, just past midnight, and the moon hung high and round in the sky, peaking in and out from behind dark clouds. All around them came the sounds of early summer – bullfrogs and crickets, a warm, heavy breeze that rustled the leaves. Jace and his friends were too drunk and loud to pay much attention to anything else but themselves as they laughed and joked and stumbled along the narrow forest path. There wasn’t much to do on a Friday night in Asheville, except drink. And get into trouble. Earlier that night someone had suggested that they go break into the old house outside of town, old Rain Manor.
“Who cares, the whole family’s dead now,” Jace replied, pushing past a few branches. He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair, then tugged on his t-shirt. It was damp from the humidity. “I don’t know why they don’t just bulldoze the whole place down. It’s a dump.”
Jace had been to the house once before, when he was only ten years old. His two older brothers had dragged him along to pull a prank on him, coaxing him inside and then sneaking off to leave him alone in the big empty manor. Jace had nearly died of fright as he wandered through the maze of corridors, softly calling out his brothers’ names, hot, angry tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. Every shadow had seemed like a threat, every creak of the floorboards had made him jump out of his skin. And then, just when he’d almost given up hope of ever finding his way out again, something very strange had happened. It was all a vague memory now, but he remembered turning a corner and feeling a sudden wave of nostalgia. All of a sudden, he knew exactly where he was and how to get out, almost as if he’d done it a hundred times before. In no time, he was back outside, sprinting as fast as he could through the woods to get home. Of course, he had never told anyone about that bizarre night, or about the mean trick his brothers’ had played – his ego wouldn’t let him. Afterward, he hadn’t talked to either of his brothers for a week.
But ever since that childhood experience, Jace had felt inexplicably drawn to the old house. He often thought about going back to it. He’d even had a few dreams where he would find himself wandering through the endless rooms, looking for something he’d forgotten about. Although, by the time he woke up, he could never remember what it was he’d been looking for. The house bothered him, but not because he thought it was creepy. Rather, because it now felt so familiar. It beckoned to him, drawing him in like a magnet.
“Are we there yet? We should have gone swimming in the lake instead.”
“Quit whining, it’s right there.”
They had come to the top of a hill where the woods opened up a little to reveal an enormous iron gate. The bars were blotched with rust and covered with ivy. A faded, yellow sign read: TRESSPASSORS WILL BE PROSECUTED
“Over here,” Jace said, leading them to an area of the fence where the bars had been forced open. The opening was partially hidden by a curtain of weeds. It was just wide enough for them to squeeze through. One by one, they crawled through the gap, their skin and clothes catching on the rough iron bars. Finally, all five of them stood on the wide, unkempt lawn that sprawled out from around the gigantic house.
“There it is. Rain Manor.”
They stared silently up at the house, which somehow seemed to glare right back at them. The Victorian-style architecture made a sharp, menacing silhouette on the moonlit sky. It might have been beautiful once; now its beams were rotted, its roof sagging, and all the windows and doors were boarded up with rusted nails. There was something else about the house too…but it was hard to name. It had a presence, it felt alive. There was an aura around it that was more than just unsettling. It felt evil.
“…uh, yeah…we should have gone swimming,” somebody said.
“Aw, he’s scared.”
“No I’m not! I just think… well, look at it! It’s probably full of homeless creeps and meth addic-...”
“Come on,” Jace interrupted his friends, and motioned for them to follow him. The doors were boarded up, but he knew another way into the house. He led them around the back until they finally reached an old cellar door. The enormous lock around its doors had evidently been broken a long time ago – violently struck by something repeatedly so that it now lay on the ground among a tangle of weeds. Jace tugged on of the heavy cellar door handles. It opened easily.
“I wasn’t kidding about there being some psychopath possibly living in this place…”
“You wanna stay out here by yourself?”
“Hell no.”
Soon all five of them were creeping through the damp cellar, using their phones as flashlights. A set of stairs led them to the main floor, where they found themselves in a well-sized kitchen. Though the house had been deserted for years, it wasn’t empty. Furniture, books, photographs, and all sorts of other personal items still filled the rooms. Most of the furniture was antique, but the appliances looked to be from the late 70’s. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and mildew. Jace had wondered if that nostalgic feeling would come back to him once he’d entered the house… but he felt nothing. He still continued to lead the other boys, who were all feeling a lot braver now.
“This place is disgusting!”
“Aw, we shoulda brought spray paint!”
“Anyone have a lighter?”
While his friends planned destructive ways to tag the house, Jace quietly broke away from the group to explore on his own. He turned left down a hall, then right, past a set of stairs and through a large doorway. His friends’ voices grew softer and softer until he could no longer hear them. Finally he came to a big room with a massive fireplace. A floorboard creaked under his step and he suddenly felt ten years old again. He passed his phone flashlight slowly over the walls and furniture as he moved carefully about the room.
Something dropped on the floor.
Jace spun around at the unexpected sound, his heart racing. He swung the light frantically back and forth, looking for who ever was in the room with him. Eventually his light fell upon a framed picture on the floor. Apparently it had fallen over from an end table. The glass was partially shattered. Feeling a little more at ease, Jace knelt and picked it up, holding the flashlight close to study the face.
It was a girl. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, with dark hair and fair skin and captivating eyes. She was beautiful. Jace was still staring at her memorized when a hand suddenly slammed onto his shoulder making him yelp.
“Ahahahaaa! Got yaaa!”
“Look at his face! Oh my god, haha!”
“We were wondering where’d you snuck off to.”
One of his friends grabbed the picture from him.
“Oh damn. She’s hot.”
“Dude, that’s the girl that killed herself.”
“No way.”
“Yeah, that’s her!”
Jace snatched the photo away again and turned it over. There was a name on the back, scrawled in black ink.
“…Lilika Rain,” he read out loud.
“What the hell, give it back! I wasn’t done looking at her.”
Someone grabbed it again. As it was pulled from his hand, Jace gave a gasp as a shard of the broken glass sliced through his palm.
He swore under his breath, but it was too dark for anyone to see the blood gushing from his hand. The other boys were reading the name aloud too now.
“Lilika Rain?”
“Lilika Rain!”
Lilika Rain! Come out, come out wherever you are! Ahaha!”
“You dumbass, everyone knows she hanged herself.”
“You guys are both idiots. No one died in that house, it was just a gimmick to attract buyers.”
“What do you think Jace, you’re the one that’s been there before.”
Jace Callahan took one last swig of his beer and chucked the can out into the tangled underbrush. It was a Friday night and he and his group of friends were trudging through the woods on the outskirts of town. It was late, just past midnight, and the moon hung high and round in the sky, peaking in and out from behind dark clouds. All around them came the sounds of early summer – bullfrogs and crickets, a warm, heavy breeze that rustled the leaves. Jace and his friends were too drunk and loud to pay much attention to anything else but themselves as they laughed and joked and stumbled along the narrow forest path. There wasn’t much to do on a Friday night in Asheville, except drink. And get into trouble. Earlier that night someone had suggested that they go break into the old house outside of town, old Rain Manor.
“Who cares, the whole family’s dead now,” Jace replied, pushing past a few branches. He ran a hand through his dark, tousled hair, then tugged on his t-shirt. It was damp from the humidity. “I don’t know why they don’t just bulldoze the whole place down. It’s a dump.”
Jace had been to the house once before, when he was only ten years old. His two older brothers had dragged him along to pull a prank on him, coaxing him inside and then sneaking off to leave him alone in the big empty manor. Jace had nearly died of fright as he wandered through the maze of corridors, softly calling out his brothers’ names, hot, angry tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. Every shadow had seemed like a threat, every creak of the floorboards had made him jump out of his skin. And then, just when he’d almost given up hope of ever finding his way out again, something very strange had happened. It was all a vague memory now, but he remembered turning a corner and feeling a sudden wave of nostalgia. All of a sudden, he knew exactly where he was and how to get out, almost as if he’d done it a hundred times before. In no time, he was back outside, sprinting as fast as he could through the woods to get home. Of course, he had never told anyone about that bizarre night, or about the mean trick his brothers’ had played – his ego wouldn’t let him. Afterward, he hadn’t talked to either of his brothers for a week.
But ever since that childhood experience, Jace had felt inexplicably drawn to the old house. He often thought about going back to it. He’d even had a few dreams where he would find himself wandering through the endless rooms, looking for something he’d forgotten about. Although, by the time he woke up, he could never remember what it was he’d been looking for. The house bothered him, but not because he thought it was creepy. Rather, because it now felt so familiar. It beckoned to him, drawing him in like a magnet.
“Are we there yet? We should have gone swimming in the lake instead.”
“Quit whining, it’s right there.”
They had come to the top of a hill where the woods opened up a little to reveal an enormous iron gate. The bars were blotched with rust and covered with ivy. A faded, yellow sign read: TRESSPASSORS WILL BE PROSECUTED
“Over here,” Jace said, leading them to an area of the fence where the bars had been forced open. The opening was partially hidden by a curtain of weeds. It was just wide enough for them to squeeze through. One by one, they crawled through the gap, their skin and clothes catching on the rough iron bars. Finally, all five of them stood on the wide, unkempt lawn that sprawled out from around the gigantic house.
“There it is. Rain Manor.”
They stared silently up at the house, which somehow seemed to glare right back at them. The Victorian-style architecture made a sharp, menacing silhouette on the moonlit sky. It might have been beautiful once; now its beams were rotted, its roof sagging, and all the windows and doors were boarded up with rusted nails. There was something else about the house too…but it was hard to name. It had a presence, it felt alive. There was an aura around it that was more than just unsettling. It felt evil.
“…uh, yeah…we should have gone swimming,” somebody said.
“Aw, he’s scared.”
“No I’m not! I just think… well, look at it! It’s probably full of homeless creeps and meth addic-...”
“Come on,” Jace interrupted his friends, and motioned for them to follow him. The doors were boarded up, but he knew another way into the house. He led them around the back until they finally reached an old cellar door. The enormous lock around its doors had evidently been broken a long time ago – violently struck by something repeatedly so that it now lay on the ground among a tangle of weeds. Jace tugged on of the heavy cellar door handles. It opened easily.
“I wasn’t kidding about there being some psychopath possibly living in this place…”
“You wanna stay out here by yourself?”
“Hell no.”
Soon all five of them were creeping through the damp cellar, using their phones as flashlights. A set of stairs led them to the main floor, where they found themselves in a well-sized kitchen. Though the house had been deserted for years, it wasn’t empty. Furniture, books, photographs, and all sorts of other personal items still filled the rooms. Most of the furniture was antique, but the appliances looked to be from the late 70’s. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and mildew. Jace had wondered if that nostalgic feeling would come back to him once he’d entered the house… but he felt nothing. He still continued to lead the other boys, who were all feeling a lot braver now.
“This place is disgusting!”
“Aw, we shoulda brought spray paint!”
“Anyone have a lighter?”
While his friends planned destructive ways to tag the house, Jace quietly broke away from the group to explore on his own. He turned left down a hall, then right, past a set of stairs and through a large doorway. His friends’ voices grew softer and softer until he could no longer hear them. Finally he came to a big room with a massive fireplace. A floorboard creaked under his step and he suddenly felt ten years old again. He passed his phone flashlight slowly over the walls and furniture as he moved carefully about the room.
Something dropped on the floor.
Jace spun around at the unexpected sound, his heart racing. He swung the light frantically back and forth, looking for who ever was in the room with him. Eventually his light fell upon a framed picture on the floor. Apparently it had fallen over from an end table. The glass was partially shattered. Feeling a little more at ease, Jace knelt and picked it up, holding the flashlight close to study the face.
It was a girl. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, with dark hair and fair skin and captivating eyes. She was beautiful. Jace was still staring at her memorized when a hand suddenly slammed onto his shoulder making him yelp.
“Ahahahaaa! Got yaaa!”
“Look at his face! Oh my god, haha!”
“We were wondering where’d you snuck off to.”
One of his friends grabbed the picture from him.
“Oh damn. She’s hot.”
“Dude, that’s the girl that killed herself.”
“No way.”
“Yeah, that’s her!”
Jace snatched the photo away again and turned it over. There was a name on the back, scrawled in black ink.
“…Lilika Rain,” he read out loud.
“What the hell, give it back! I wasn’t done looking at her.”
Someone grabbed it again. As it was pulled from his hand, Jace gave a gasp as a shard of the broken glass sliced through his palm.
He swore under his breath, but it was too dark for anyone to see the blood gushing from his hand. The other boys were reading the name aloud too now.
“Lilika Rain?”
“Lilika Rain!”
Lilika Rain! Come out, come out wherever you are! Ahaha!”