“Is this it?” Julian asked in awe.
In front of him was a magnificent manor. It looked around four stories high with large windows. The wood was a light brown color, scarred with age. Around the manor there were countless maple trees of all colors. Julian wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck as a chilly wind blew by. He got out of the car, still unable to take his eyes off his new abode.
“Come help unpack the car!” his mother called. “It won’t do it itself.”
Julian sighed and picked up his suitcases from the trunk. Slowly, he headed towards the manor. He stopped at the door and looked around. There were no neighbors nearby, no houses. What was he going to do? This would be a very boring place to live. His father arrived and unlocked the door.
“You’re on the third floor kiddo,” he said. “I’m going to grab some more bags.”
Julian nodded as he gradually made his way through the tight hallway. To his right, there was a massive living room with big couches and tables covered in cloth. On his left, there was a door that led to a library. Inside lay numerous books and two sad armchairs. He headed towards the stairs where, behind lay a cozy looking kitchen. Julian Argemelo heaved his two heavy luggage up the stairs, each step creaking under his weight. He grunted and leaned against the wall when he finally reached the third floor. He rolled his suitcases into his new room and gasped. He had a large queen-sized bed with silk red sheets. A carpet lay on the floor that looked uncomfortably similar to the pelt of a fox. A huge wardrobe stood on the right side of the room while a polished desk sat at the left. Julian swept the dust from off his sheets and sat down on the bed. He already missed his old house where it was not too grand. He lay down onto the bed and closed his eyes. Maybe he might like it. Doubtfully.
“Julian! Dinner!”
Julian woke up groaning. He blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings, realizing that he had moved. He stood up and trudged down the stairs. He reached the kitchen where a small circular table sat. His younger sister, Amaya, was complaining about her pasta, her fork stabbing it continuously. Julian’s father was reading his magazine while his mother was trying to convince Amaya to eat her pasta.
“I don’t like pesto,” said Julian, sitting down.
His mother turned to him. “Too bad sleepyhead. I’m going shopping tomorrow after I drop you off at school. For now, this is all we have.”
Julian yelped as he saw his mother’s normally soft brown eyes turn icy blue.
“What is it?” his mother asked worriedly.
Her eyes were back to normal. “N-nothing. The pasta is hot.”
Amaya laughed. “Aww, poor Ju-Ju burned himself!”
Julian threw a piece of his pasta at her face. “Shut up, Ama.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, trying to throw a piece of pasta back at him before their father stopped them.
“Enough,” he ordered. “Tomorrow you’re starting Eighth and Fourth Grade. At a new school too. Don’t behave this childishly.”
“Sorry dad,” chanted the siblings together.
Julian finished his pasta, his nose hurting after. He didn’t mind the taste of pesto. It tasted great but for some reason, his nose hurt after he finished eating it. He never understood why but just took it as a sign not to eat it.
“I’m going to bed.” he announced.
His mother looked up from her plate. “So soon? You just woke up.”
He nodded. “I’m tired.”
He headed upstairs where he decided to explore the second floor. The first door led to a vast bathroom with a bathtub and a shower. The toilet had its own little section next to a fancy sink. He went to the next room, the master bedroom. A king-sized bed with two dark wardrobes and a large patterned rug took up the room while a shiny chandelier dangled from the ceiling. He whistled in joy as he moved to the next room. This was Amaya’s room. A single bed was tucked at a corner with a nightstand next to it. A small, dusty lamp sat on it. Amaya had a large empty bookshelf in her room with just one thing on it.
“This is awesome,” he whispered to himself. He got to have a big bed all to himself while Amaya had only a tiny bed. He noticed the object on the bookshelf wasn’t a book but a framed photo. His smile slowly vanished as he picked it up. A girl stood in the black and white photo. She had long, black, straight hair and light eyes. She wore a long dress and in one hand was a paper while the other held a pair of scissors. Her face looked serene even though there was something to the eyes that he couldn’t get over. A glint of not happiness nor sadness. He couldn’t bring himself to put the object down, so he took it up to his room. A weird feeling about the girl passed through him. Who was she?
Julian looked at the school in apprehension. He wasn’t known for socializing or loving bright colors. Cheesy slogans were worse. Newhive School was all of that. The walls of the building were painted neon orange, unnecessary since half of the space was covered with posters like; “Don’t be afraid, socialize instead of hiding in the shade!”, “Be yourself, everyone will love you!” “Newcomer? Join the Mad Runners!”. Julian rolled his eyes. This was going to be horrible.
“Maybe you should have worn something else,” Mrs. Argemelo fretted.
Julian scoffed. “Why? To fit in?”
Around him, the students were dressed in all colours, from baby pink to highlighter green. Julian wore a simple white shirt and grey sweatpants.
“It just seems like this school is more colourful than your previous one.”
Julian shrugged. “It’s fine. Go see Ama off. She is in Small School isn’t she?”
His mum kissed his head. “It’s Lower School, Ju. Enjoy buddy. Don’t get hurt.”
Julian wove her off and walked towards the Eighth Grade area.
“Are you new?”
Julian turned his head and saw a small boy with oversized glasses over his dark green eyes. His red hair was covered by an oversized blue beanie that stuck up from his head.
Julian nodded. “I moved here yesterday.”
The boy held out a sweaty hand. “I’m Caleb.”
Julian shook it.
Caleb narrowed his magnified eyes. “Do you live near here? I know everyone in this neighborhood and I don’t remember you moving in.”
Julian shook his head. “I live in a manor. I’m near anyone.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Maple Manor? The Maple Manor?”
“I guess.”
“Do you know what happened in it?” Caleb’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The last owner’s daughter died in it.”
Julian gulped. “Died?” He laughed nervously. “Probably a rumor. I don’t see any ghosts.”
Caleb rose to his tip-toes, his eyes level to Julian’s nose. “It’s not a rumor, new kid. Her name was Elowen Kirmen. She was 14 years old when she went missing. She was always a weird kid. Rumor has it she was always talking about the afterlife. She barely blinked. Basically a worse version of Wednesday Addams. One day, she didn’t come to school. The next week, she had her funeral.”
Julian backed away. “How do you know?”
Caleb grinned weirdly. “My parents told me. She was in school with them. This house has been abandoned for 25 years. Until you came.”
Julian blinked. “How did she die though? Was she ill?”
Caleb’s fingers twirled restlessly. “That’s the creepy part. No-one knows. Her parents refused to say. Everyone thinks that she killed herself. Or that her parents killed her.”
He laughed manically and ran away. Julian stared after him, confused. Was everyone at NewHive School this bizarre?
The family’s dark blue BMW pulled up to the school. Julian sighed in relief and got in. He was in the same class as Caleb, who was staring creepily at him. At lunch, Caleb was bouncing on his feet, calling Julian to sit with him. Julian shivered at the memory.
“Mum!” exclaimed Amaya. “Can I sit at the front please? Julian came to sit at the back!”
Their mother sighed. “No, Amaya. I’ve told you a million times, you’re too young.”
Amaya stuck out her tongue and glared out the window, arms crossed.
“How was school today?” asked Mrs. Argemelo unbothered.
Julian shrugged. “It was fine.”
But it wasn’t. The story about someone dying in their house disturbed him even though he didn’t want to admit it. He barely listened when Amaya droned on about some girl who got chased by a bee. He didn’t know what he answered when his mother asked him about his teachers. He just thought about the girl who died in their house. The girl called Elowen Kirmen. As they pulled up to Maple Manor, Julian’s mum’s voice shook the boy out of his thoughts.
“I bought a new carpet for your room. The one you have is too old. It’s in the trunk.”
Julian got out of the car and opened the boot. Inside, there was a black, fluffy rug, slightly bigger than the one he already had. He hefted it in his arms, surprised at the weight of it. Slowly, he struggled up the stairs until he reached his room. Julian plopped the soft rug onto his bed, along with his bag and squatted next to the fox-skin carpet, rolling it up. As he cleared the floor, he noticed some red stains on the floor and frowned in confusion. The carpet was thrown out the bedroom door, unimportant, as Julian examined the stain. At first it didn’t seem like much but as Julian concentrated on the mess of lines, it resembled the words Help Me made from paint or something else. He felt his heartbeat rise as he thought about Elowen Kirmen. Did she write this? He covered the words up with the new rug, grabbing the old one and heading downstairs.
“Mum!” he said, laying the fox pelt on the sofa. “Who owned this house before us?”
His mum looked up from her book, Ten New Recipes for Vegetarians, and furrowed her eyebrows.
Julian felt blood rush to his cheeks. “No reason, just curious.”
“Ah, well,” his mum tried to remember the name. “I think it was the Kirmets? No… Ah! The Kirmens!”
Julian felt as if a wall was crushed into his lungs. He staggered back. “The Kirmens?”
His mum looked at him in concern. “Are you okay, bud?”
“Did they have a child, Elowen?”
His mum stood up. “Julian, are you alright?”
His voice felt dry. “Mum. Did she die?”
Angela Argemelo held her son. “I think so. Why?”
Julian wriggled out of his mum’s grasp. “How did she die?”
“Julian!”
“Mum! Please!”
“No-one knows! Probably suicide.”
Julian gulped. Caleb wasn’t lying. Someone had died in this house. Thunder boomed suddenly, making the boy jump.
“Looks bad out there,” Julian’s mum commented.
The gale was blowing the maples, leaves flying everywhere. The air smelled humid as lightning cackled. A sing-song voice sounded faintly.
“Do you believe in ghosts?
Oh, wondrous hosts.
Do you want to be haunted?”
Julian looked around, his mother hugging him tightly. “Ama! This is not funny!”
The voice continued, coming closer.
“Do you like being taunted?
Remember me!
I lived here!
REMEMBER ME!”
The voice reached a screech as the wind blew the windows open.
“Upstairs Julian!” cried Angela. “NOW!”
Julian rushed up the stairs, his mother right behind him.
“Amaya!” he yelled. “Stop!”
But something told him it wasn’t his little sister. He approached her room, the door creaking open. He entered and saw his sister lying on the bed, fast asleep.
“Ama,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
He approached the bed and turned his sister over. Julian gasped in horror as he saw her face. Her eyes were wide open, tears of blood streaming down her face. There was a knife plunged in her chest, right above her heart. Backing away, everything became blurry as tears threatened to fall from his face.
“Amaya…” his voice was hoarse. “Why?”
A blood-curling scream came from outside the room. Julian ran to the hallway, watching as his mother got dragged away by an invisible force. He ran towards her, just as a knife plunged into her too. He let out a guttural scream. Julian heard the rain pelt the rooftop. He had one hope now, his father.
He ran to the home-office shutting the door behind him.
“Dad?”
His father’s head lolled on his keyboard, blood pooling from the back of his head. Julian sobbed as he fled the room. He ran down the stairs and tried to open the front door. He pushed and pulled. Nothing.
“Goodbye, Julian Argemelo.” The voice was right next to him. Julian searched hurriedly for a key. “You will die,” Julian searched harder. His heart was pounding faster than ever before. “By the hand of Elowen Kirmen.” Julian fell to the ground as something cold plunged into him from behind. His vision blurred and then. Darkness.