“You have the calling, Ava.”
“The calling, right,” I said in annoyance. The famous Luna family calling. As the saying goes, we were the daughters of the witches they couldn’t burn. A generational compulsion towards the strange and unusual. An uncanny ability to sense it. And me? I got the special jackpot according to my mother.
“If you keep running, the strange and unusual will catch up with you Ava.It’sdrawn toyou. You're charmed.” She crossed her arms loosely under her chest and gave me a hard look. I didn’t like this type of talk. It made me uncomfortable. Made me scratch at my arms and push away the memories of strange situations rising to the surface to defend her argument.
I didn’t like ghosts. I didn’t like weird, strange, unusual, unexplainable, or paranormal. I liked photography and nature. I wanted to benormaland in this weird family, that somehow made me the black sheep. It made me the denier, the odd man out, the rebel who needed to be put in her place.
Caspian cleared his throat and my mother’s dark eyes shifted to him.
“I’m going with her this year,” he admitted.
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raised and her eyes darted to where I still clutched his arm. I detached myself.
“He is. So your argument that it’s unsafe for me to travel alone isn’t valid anymore. I’m going.We’regoing,” I said motioning at us both, feeling like a team. I walked around her, going up the stairs in search of the camera crew and its lights. I was done talking to her.
At the top of the stairs, it was dark. Somewhere off in the distance, I could hear the soft sound of feet moving over creaking boards. It made it hard to pinpoint where my aunt and everyone else had gone. The smell of mildew grew and particles of dust tickled my nose, making me sneeze.
I heard my mother talking to Caspian behind me, asking him about his music career and how the trip would work out with that. I wandered down the hallway, further from the comfort of their voices. Licking my lips, I nervously peeked into open doorways, trying to avoid the mirrors.
Mirrors were the worst, sometimes showing things you couldn't see with your eyes but could only feel rattling up your spine. Like shadowed men just behind you.
As I traveled down the hall my instincts were louder. Anxiety squirmed inside me, trying to tell me this wasn’t good, we should leave. I took deep breaths through my mouth and just wanted to find the crew as fast as possible.
I saw attic stairs ahead that had been pulled down and huffed my way forward, eager to get back with everyone else.
As I approached the bottom of the ladder, I could hear nothing above. No hushed voices, no footsteps. I felt entirely alone despite knowing others were just around the corner. They were probably standing in silence up there, trying to capture unexplainable noises on their machines. Above was foggy darkness.
My fingers wrapped around the old wood of the ladder and I went up, my hands coating in dust as I gripped the sides. The wood groaned under my shoes and I worried about the safety of the old ladder.
It wasn’t until I was at the top, looking around at a dark collection of old furniture stacked around that I realized if other people had used the ladder tonight, it wouldn’t be that dusty.
No one was here but me.
I felt a pressured lump in my throat that made it hard to swallow. Questions bloated to the surface of my mind, like corpses in a lake. Whywas the attic ladder down if no one was up here? Why was it so cold, a slow chill inching up my spine to the base of my skull?
Don’t think about it,I told myself.
The room was stagnant and thick with shadows—the vague outlines of a room filled with forgotten things.
I shouldn't be here. Quickly, I turned to go back down when a noise slithered into my ear.
“Wait,” it whispered, sounding like a paper-thin little girl—hollow, weightless, and tired. “Don’t go.” The words were faint but clear. My lips trembled and my eyes watered as I turned to look in the room.
“Is someone in here?” I asked. My eyes traced over dark lines, trying to identify everything so I didn’t imagine it as something it wasn’t. Dressers, chairs, tables, lamps—there was so much antique junk packed haphazardly that anyone oranythingcould be hiding in the mess.
Someone could be crouched behind the dresser right next to me, just a few feet away. My breath quickened and my muscles locked up as I imagined that was true. That maybe some evil ghost was just on the other side of the furniture, capable of jumping up with whited-out eyes and an open mouth, yellow teeth cracking. They could wrap their hollow arms around me, trap me here with them forever.
Goosebumps raised on my arms and I felt dizzy. I didn’t like this, not at all. I couldn’t understand how anyone in my family actually enjoyed doing these sorts of things.
Then again, they didn't have to deal with the strange and unusual coming forthem. They didn't deal with the sense that something was always after them, wanting them, leading them away from the group, and convincing them into dark places.
“Ava?” Caspian called from below. I swallowed and turned back to the ladder, ready to go down. Ready torunif I had to.
“I’m coming,” I called out and I heard him walking closer as I slipped onto the ladder and started to go down. The sensation of something brushing against my arm, as if reaching out to touch me, made me close my eyes and swallow a whimper.
It was nothing, I told myself,a phantom sensation my over-excited mind invented. I kept moving down, faster. One foot down the rung and then another. The wood creaked and bent as I slammed my shoes on it. I couldn’t get out fast enough. I winced as a splinter slid under one of my fingers, burying under my skin like a bug in the dirt.
“Don’t go,” a whispered breeze seemed to say in that little girl's voice. I stilled with my head level with the attic floor. I swept my eyes around, dying of fright that I’d see movement under the legs of the furniture. See something running towards me.
