Basil left his mother's victory celebration early. He took the back route to avoid questions, which meant sidling past a number of disturbingly intoxicated campaign supporters too old (in his opinion) to be so drunk. Plastic wine glasses were balanced between half-melted tea lights and discarded election flags on the deck's railing. A clump of beer bottles had grown around the bottom step; Basil hopped over them onto the lawn while reflecting that at least adults were relatively tidy about their house parties.

 

He'd barely finished the thought before Aunt Wendy started heaving into the hydrangeas.

 

Andi was hiding out back, too. Basil found her tucked behind the raspberry bushes, her crimson hair instantly identifiable despite the dim light. She appeared to be making out with the fence. Basil paused, cocking his head. "All right there, Andrea?"

 

His sister pulled back, revealing the tiny form of their mother's campaign manager. The man lifted a hand in a hazy greeting. Andi narrowed her eyes. "All right there, Basil?"

 

He took the pointed mimicry as affirmation and continued on. Further down, the fence planks had rotted at the bottom and were now only loosely fastened at the top; they parted easily to let Basil through.

 

On the other side was the blissful calm of the dark, undisturbed woods. Relieved, he closed his eyes. The smell of foliage and damp earth was strong here, and the music from the party much quieter. Basil was constantly amazed at how stepping through the fence felt so much like escaping into an entirely different world.

 

Then a branch rustled beside him, Basil opened his eyes again, and the feeling vanished.

 

Calvin had been waiting for him.

 

If it weren't for the hell Basil had just escaped, he might have turned back at the sight of his cousin's ghoulish anticipation. Instead he swallowed, brushed the dirt from his knees, and complained, "Mom would kill me if she knew."

 

"Andi's enough of a delinquent," agreed Calvin, taking a swig of beer, "How embarrassing to learn you were following in her footsteps. Better not get arrested, B."

 

"I meant about skipping out on the party," said Basil, though Calvin had raised a fair point. It was better not to dwell on that. "Are we going?"

 

Calvin shrugged, tipped the last of his beer back, and then tossed the bottle over the fence. "Ready when you are. What about Andi?"

 

"Sidetracked. Heather?"

 

"Waiting for us. Beer?"

 

An involuntary grimace flashed across Basil's face. "No. Wait, yes. Yes."

 

Two new bottles materialized in Calvin's hands. He passed one over before starting down the slope toward the forest trail.

 

Basil tried not to think about how long his cousin had been drinking behind the fence while waiting for him. The bottle was cool from sitting outside rather than from deliberate chilling, and there were pieces of grass clinging to the bottom. He wiped them away before twisting off the cap and following his cousin.

 

Basil wasn't a habitually rebellious teenager. It was just difficult to be the son of a politician, especially in a small town like Tozer Beach where everybody knew everyone else's business. With Andi determined to spend her college years running wild, it had fallen to Basil to play the parts of Candidate Maura's Biggest Supporter and also Her Pride And Joy at all the public functions.

 

The beer was too bitter for his tastes, but Basil gulped it back. It was a night for liquid courage: the crescent moon shone intermittently between the clouds, turning his forest into unfamiliar shadows and ominously vague noises.

 

Something crunched directly behind him, a hand falling upon his shoulder. "Chug it," hissed a voice in his ear. Basil nearly jumped out of his skin. He flushed as a peal of laughter rang out, Heather dancing around ahead of him on the path. "Holy shit, I got you," she crowed. "Did you see that, Cal? He totally freaked."

 

"I did not--"

 

"How on earth are you gonna manage an entire night in there?"

 

Basil had been steadfastly not thinking about what lay ahead, except to wonder how exactly he had let himself end up in this situation. His mouth tightened.

 

Heather skipped around to Calvin's side, draping an arm over his shoulders. "He's not going to make it. There's not a chance your cousin is staying in there all night."

 

"He's tougher than he looks," Calvin retorted. They both laughed.

 

Basil drained the last of his beer. He turned the bottle around in his hands, wondering what to do with it and completely aware that both Calvin and Heather would say to just toss it aside. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around the neck and raised it in the air.

 

"You realize ghosts are see-through, right?" said Heather. "No use trying to hit them over the head."

 

"Incorporeal," Basil corrected her, though it didn't make him feel any better. It wasn't the ghosts he feared. Basil dropped his arm, but kept hold of the bottle.

 

∞

 

The board came away from the window without a struggle, and Basil wondered how many other teenagers had crept inside this ramshackle house to satisfy a dare. He set the board among the weeds, used the flashlight on his phone to make sure there weren't any glass shards still attached to the frame to cut himself on, and then turned back to his cousin.

 

"If you cover this window again while I'm inside, I will kill you."

 

Calvin widened his eyes. "You think I'd do that to you, B?"

 

"You're coercing me to spend the night inside an abandoned property just to prove I don't think it's haunted. Yes, I think you'd do that."

 

Heather nudged her boyfriend. "He has a point."

 

Calvin dropped the pretense. "True. How about this?" He held up two fingers in a boy scout salute, and solemnly said, "I will not cover the window while you are inside. I do not, however, speak for any ghosts that may try to block your escape." He finished by turning his hand around and lowering his index finger in a salute of a completely different nature.

 

Basil decided that would have to be good enough. He tucked the phone into his pocket and picked up the empty bottle from where it had been resting against his feet.

 

"Have fun," said Calvin, finally dropping his hand.

 

"And good luck," said Heather.

 

Basil tried a smile. "Thanks."

 

"...because you'll need it," she added with a laugh.

 

His smile faded. "Thanks," he said again, less happily. Then he braced his free hand on the windowsill, set one foot against the siding, and vaulted up into the house.

 

∞

 

On the other side of the window was a kitchen counter, and it collapsed as soon as Basil's weight landed on it.

 

There was an instant of pure disorientation, of splitting wood and dust clouds and Heather's shriek of alarm out in the yard. In the following silence, Basil did not try to move. He was too busy counting all the reasons he already regretted this entire night.

 

Then Calvin's voice from up above: "You okay, B?"

 

It was a good question. Basil pulled himself from the counter's wreckage, performed a brief inspection, and reported that he'd be fine aside from some inevitable bruising.

 

He could see his cousin's silhouette in the window, nodding with satisfaction. "Good," Calvin declared, "because one fall isn't getting you out of anything."

 

"I wasn't trying to get out of this."

 

"Good." There was a pause. "Well. Have fun. See you in the morning... if you survive."

 

Basil rolled his eyes. Now that he was standing in the center of a ruined kitchen, he was starkly reminded that the property had been abandoned for decades. And yet, it did not seem spooky to him --  just sad. Any sign of daily life within this home had faded away with time, leaving only a crumbling shell and stupid campfire rumours.

 

More importantly, he was already getting the impression it had been a long time since anyone else had stood inside the structure. His real fear had been of running into squatters, but the house felt much too still. The air was heavy and undisturbed, filled with the musty smell of intruding nature and rotting wood.

 

He pulled out his phone first to check the time -- quarter past one -- and then turn the flashlight function back on. As expected, there was nothing in the kitchen aside from dust and cobwebs and a collapsed wooden counter. Basil peeked inside the pantry to confirm that it was also empty before moving further inside.

 

The long hallway was decorated only with the remnants of faded wallpaper and irreverent graffiti. Basil checked inside each room as he passed, trying to guess what purpose each had held: living room, study, entryway, bathroom, bedroom, closet, bedroom. He backtracked to the study and sat in the center of the floor. It was now just reaching a half hour after one.

 

Basil sighed. It was going to be a long night.

 

∞

 

A wooden creak woke him.

 

Basil hadn't expected to sleep, but either the beer or the boredom or a bad combination of the two had apparently worked their magic. He was curled onto his side, head on arm on splintering floorboard. The room was still heavy with shadow which meant he couldn't have been sleeping long, but his muscles were already starting to cramp from the uncomfortable position. Basil rolled onto his back and checked his phone.

 

"Almost three," he told himself. His voice sounded hollow and too loud in the empty room.

 

A handful of texts had arrived while he slept. Seven were from Calvin, all trying to spook Basil by reminding him of the ghost, all failing due to a combination of spelling errors and confusing auto-corrects. The single message from Heather was a poorly lit, blurry selfie she'd taken of herself and Calvin beneath a streetlight. There were also four messages from Andi.

 

were ar u mom is pissed

 

kidding she hasnt noticed but seriously where

 

oh duck RIGHT THAT nm

 

carry on

 

Basil looked out the window, though the trees blocked any view of the sky and there was nothing to see. His mother's election celebration would be long over by now, he thought; the adults may have been partying like nobody's business, but he doubted they'd have carried on into the early hours of the morning.

 

Andi was probably still awake though, if she hadn't yet passed out from drinking. He tapped a quick reply.

 

Just getting terrorized by the local ghost, no big.

 

The phone buzzed almost as soon as his message had sent.

 

sucker

 

Thanks for the concern.

 

anytime

 

The battery sign was starting to blink. He'd expected this -- his phone hardly ever lasted more than a few hours anymore -- which meant he'd come prepared. He plugged the phone into a portable charger and set it on the floor in front of him. The screen brightened with the charging icon.

 

In the hall, a board let out a prolonged groan.

 

The ghost, thought Basil wryly.

 

And then the screen of his phone shut off, allowing Basil to notice the dim blue light seeping through the open doorway.

 

"Funny," he called, climbing to his feet. His left leg had fallen asleep, and the sudden movement sent an agony of pins-and-needles through his shin. Basil winced as he took the first step, his foot knocking against the beer bottle. He picked it up so as not to trip over it, and hobbled to the door. "Calvin, it's not working. Blue light is not scary."

 

There was no reply, and the light did not waver. Basil put a hand out against the door-frame as he turned the corner. "Seriously, Calv--"

 

No one was there. Not Calvin, not Heather, and not even Andi.

 

The blue light was gone.

 

And the hallway -- that had changed. No longer was he looking at a dark and dilapidated corridor marred with graffiti and cobwebs. The wallpaper had been restored, artwork hung tidily at various intervals, and a number of antique tables were positioned between the doorways. Light from an unknown source flooded the hall -- not the blue light that had drawn him but a warm, homey glow.

 

Basil moved forward, still limping as circulation returned to his leg. He ran a hand over a mantel clock resting on the nearest table, feeling the gentle vibration as inner mechanisms pushed the minute hand forward.

 

"Okay," he said slowly, "Be rational, Basil. Think through the alternatives. One: You're dreaming."

 

Except his leg still tingled, the colours around him were too rich, and he had no trouble reading the clock or counting his fingers.

 

"Two: You're hallucinating."

 

Not entirely out of the question. Basil didn't put it past his cousin to slip something into the beer just to mess with his haunted house experience. Although he'd opened his own bottle, and couldn't remember Calvin ever coming near it.

 

"Three: You found the ghost."

 

Or not the ghost exactly, but a part of its illusion. Even considering this option felt a whole lot like giving up, though.

 

"Four--"

 

But he couldn't think of a fourth option. Basil lifted his eyes to the abstract oil canvas that hung over the table, mind circling around the first three alternatives: Dream, hallucination, ghost, dream hallucination ghost, one two three --

 

"Four," whispered a soft, breathless voice in his ear, "You are no longer where you once were."

 

Holy sh--

 

Basil whirled around. The momentum smashed his bottle against the table, and he yelped as glass shards sliced into his hand.

 

An old woman was standing barely a foot away, regarding him with quiet amusement.

 

She was pale, faded like a photograph that had lost its colour. Maybe that was why he noticed the old-fashioned style of her nightgown before the faint scar arcing across her face from right cheek to left brow, and only then the milky film over her vacant eyes. The realization hit him belatedly: she was blind.

 

Not that it had stopped her from creeping into an abandoned house in the middle of the woods to apparently renovate a broken-down hallway while he slept in the next room.

 

"Where did you come from?" he blurted.

 

If she took offence at his tone, the woman did not show it. "I am here."

 

"Not a minute ago, you weren't."

 

Her head tipped to the side. "A minute ago... you were not."

 

None of this was making any sense. Basil clenched his hand, then hissed as the piece of broken glass he'd still been clutching bit into his palm.

 

The woman drifted forward to take his arm before he could pull away, bending over it as if she could examine the injury despite her lack of sight. Her fingers were cool and solid (not a ghost, Basil thought, somewhat absurdly) as she traced a line across his palm. The touch stung as she followed the cut.

 

Basil caught his breath and pulled away, leaving the woman's hand to hover briefly in the air.

 

"Sorry," said Basil, as if the awkwardness was his fault.

 

In lieu of answering, the woman licked the drop of blood from her fingertip and smiled.

 

"Uh," said Basil, "Did you just--?"

 

The smile grew wider -- unnaturally so. Lips stretched across an otherwise emotionless face, revealing thin and needle-sharp teeth. Black tendrils began to flow like ink-filled veins down her chin and around her neck. The smile continued to grow and the tendrils crawled along her skin, over the exposed collar-bone, beneath the nightgown’s lace collar. Like hungry roots, the tendrils twisted down her arm and the woman reached out again.

 

Basil jerked back into the table, which rocked hard enough that the mantel clock let out a low chime. "What the--"

 

Like before, she tilted her head. The movement did not come across as bemusement; instead, Basil felt as though the creature before him was merely doing its best to mimic human behaviour.

 

In that moment, Basil became a firm believer in the existence of ghosts.

 

"That's okay," he told her, leaning out of reach while edging along the table. "I'll, uh, I will just, um, I'll see myself out. Don't worry about me. I'm.. uh, I'll be fine." His hand slipped over the end of the table, and he almost fell over.

 

The woman -- or ghost, or whatever she was -- reached for him again.

 

Basil ran.

​

∞