What You Seek You Shall Find

            Maggie pressed her back against the wall, heart racing, sweat trickling down her temples. Another footstep. Louder. The candelabra felt heavy in her hand. She glanced to the ceiling from where the noises were coming from. She had to go. She had to know what was up there. She took a solid deep breath and pushed away from the wall. The only way to know was to go to the attic.

            Each step was shakier than the last. Each second an eternity. When she reached the attic stairs, she paused and pushed forward every ounce of courage she had left, which wasn’t much. Maggie wiped the sweat off her forehead and climbed the steps. The air grew silent. Everything darker. The flames on the candles faltered. She stopped. She couldn’t go up there in the dark. The flames flickered a few more times, then burned steady.

            When Maggie reached the attic, her knees buckled. She steadied herself against an old chair and moved the candelabra in front of her, trying to see into the smallest, darkest places. All the flames did were create more shadows dancing around the room. Her instinct told her to turn, to run, never to come up here again. She didn’t listen. She wasn’t a scared little girl. She was a woman. Ghosts really don’t exist. They’re nothing but imagination. This is a new house and she wasn’t used to the noises it made. Who was she trying to convince? Maggie shook the thoughts from her mind and took a couple more steps into the attic.

            A mouse ran across the floor toward an old dollhouse. The lights were on inside the house. She crept closer to take a look. Maybe the lights were triggered by the mouse. There had to be an explanation. Out of the corner of her eye, something stood next to her. Every muscle stiffened. She couldn’t move. Fear had taken grip.

            “You old nitty,” Maggie whispered. “There’s nothing there.” She turned toward the ghostly apparition. Her own reflection stared back from a broken mirror. She smiled. A little more courage steadied in the pit of her stomach. All of this was nothing but her imagination.

            A crash. Maggie jumped. Boxes scattered on the floor. Some of them sliding toward her. She turned and shined the light from where the boxes fell. Nothing. “Probably another mouse,” she mused in a low voice. You’re scaring yourself for no reason, she thought. There’s nothing up here.

            The air grew colder. Maggie shuddered and wrapped her arm around her body. Her breath misted in front of her. Then … that sudden sense she wasn’t alone. Every hair on her arms stood. Every muscle stiffened. She couldn’t. She had to. Staying all night in the attic wasn’t an option. She took a deep breath and turned pushing the candelabra in front of her. Nothing.

            “That’s it,” Maggie said in her most stern voice. “I’m done.” She marched toward the steps.

            Something moved in the mirror. The light from the candles barely caught it. Maggie paused for a brief moment. “No.” She stopped for only a second.

            It was enough. That’s all it took. A hand grabbed her shoulder. Pain cascaded through Maggie’s body.

            “I’m not your imagination,” a voice whispered in her ear. “I’m your darkest nightmare.”

Word Count - 557

Inspiration - I always dreaded not knowing what was in the dark, watching and waiting. To me, that is the most scary thing. Your imagination can play the worst tricks on you when it has nothing but your worst fears to play with.