Shadows At Starlight

by Alice J Black

  “Can you believe this woman?” Olivia leaned over and whispered, without removing her eyes from the screen.

  “You think it’s for show?”

  “If that was me, I’d be getting the hell out of there, and not just because of the ghosts. I’d be more scared of some living bastard turning up blind drunk or carrying a knife.” She paused. “And I mean, look at the state of the place. Broken bottles, needles. It’s not worth the risk.”

  I nodded absently. Olivia was right. Hilltop House, whatever it used to be, was now a dump. It was a dark and dangerous place, and even I, considering the situations I could end up in through my profession, would’ve struggled being there for such a length of time.

  The screen went black for a few seconds, and the whole cinema dropped into complete darkness. Beside me, Olivia took a sharp inbreath.

  Then as the screen came back into focus, Rick fiddling with the camera, I saw that sleeping bags had been laid out on a spot in the living room that had been swept clear of debris. Even so, I wasn’t sure I would want to spend a night on the floor in a place like that. Hilltop House was a festering pit. Who knew what lurked in the dark corners, what diseases had passed through its walls, what blood had been spilled on the bare boards where the couple was about to spend the night.

  I’d lived in my house when it was at its worst, bins overflowing and attracting more than just flies and wildlife. I’d partied in houses that were nothing more than seedy drug dens, while around me, people gouged on the broken, stained sofas or rutted in some darkened corner. I knew what this place would’ve been when people were using it. I shuddered. The pair was braver than me.

  “Stay with us while we explore Hilltop House through the night. We’ll conduct various experiments through the length of our stay here, all of which will be captured on video as evidence, and when we finally lie down, the camera will be rolling. Stay with us if you dare.”

  Her face was cast in shadow, the only visible light coming in from a broken shard of window and falling on her eyes as she continued to stare at the viewer, unblinking, daring them to watch on.

  If I was right about the people who came to the Starlight, and judging by what Roman had said, then a couple going into an abandoned house in the middle of the night to explore what could be ghostly activity would be right up their alley. I don’t think it got any more questionable than that.

  “So it looks like this is it,” Olivia mumbled, sinking lower in her seat.

  I reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about them.” She pointed at the screen before tucking her hands into her armpits and shuffling even lower, backside almost at the edge of the seat.

  The next fifteen minutes was filled with shots of the two moving around the house, using various metres, taking readings and recording them. There were a couple of spikes in one of the bedrooms, so they focused on that area. Exactly what I would do.

  It was the only room that had remained untouched—the master bedroom. The bed had given in to old age. The wooden posts overhead snapped after years of lying dormant, and the bottom had sagged so much it touched the floor. The strange thing about it was the bed had been made as if someone was going to sleep in it that night, remaining untouched for years despite the fact that plenty of vagrants had crossed through the doors.

  “Why is the room like that?” Olivia asked, as confused as I was.

  “I’m not sure,” I whispered.

  Karen took a precarious seat on the dusty sheets, balancing, with her legs set firmly on the floor. She then took out a voice recorder and clicked the record button.

  “My name is Karen, and this is Rick. We’re here to find out whether there are any spirits left in Hilltop House. If there’s anybody here, please speak to us. We’re here to listen. To help.”

  There was quiet as her voice fell dead in the room. I heard Rick’s rasping breaths before she started up again.

  “I’m Karen. What’s your name?”

  Another silence.

  “If you’re here, knock once.”

  Three loud bangs sounded, echoing across the camera.

  Karen jumped, cursing under her breath as her head swung left and right. “Did you hear that?” she asked Rick in a small voice.

  “Yeah. I heard it.”

  A sigh of relief, almost as if she’d been expecting him to say it was all in her mind, and then the two were quiet, both looking for a possible source of the noise.

  “Do you think it was a ghost?” Karen asked.

  “Maybe. Ask it another question.”

  Karen cleared her throat. “Do you feel that we’re invading your space?”

  Another bang, and this time the camera jolted as a flick of static rolled across it.

  “I would say that’s a yes,” Rick said.

  “Oh, shit. This is real.”

  “Of course it’s real. Keep on talking.”

  Karen’s eyes darted around the room before she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “Tell us what you want. Why did you drive the squatters away?”

  Silence, thick and deafening. I heard the camera’s static and the couple’s breaths as they tried to stay quiet.

  “Try the DVR.”

  “The what? Oh, yeah.” Reaching forward, Karen plucked the small machine from the bed and fiddled with it for a moment before pressing play. For a short while, all that could be heard was Karen’s voice as she asked questions without receiving an answer.

  Then there was another voice. A third voice. “This is my house. Get out.”

  “Shit.” Karen’s eyes moved up to the camera. “Tell me you got that.”

  The camera shook, and I assumed Rick was nodding his assent.

  “We were right. This place is really haunted.”

  “Keep talking to it,” Rick demanded, a hint of irritation in his voice that he had to remind his wife to do her job.

  “Why are you here?” Karen sat ramrod straight, shoulders stiff, breathing tempered, visibly shaken, face paler than a few moments before.

  The silence stretched on. Karen’s deep breaths punctuated the quiet while the camera continued to roll.

  “Talk to me.”

  A deep grumble filled the room, and Karen’s eyes flicked to the ceiling as the lamp began to shake. The camera zoomed in on the mini-quake.

  “Who are you?” she asked, voice quieter, unsure.

  The grumble grew to a crescendo, filling the room until it became a deep growl of discontent. The shaking increased, lampshade flinging dust particles as the room darkened with each passing second.

  “Rick?” Karen questioned, eyes big as a doe’s, staring at the camera.

  “Don’t worry.” His voice was the epitome of calm as the camera continued to roll. “Ask another question.”

  “I think we need to get out of here,” she whispered, barely audible over the deep rumble.

  “Keep talking.”

  Karen took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves enough to speak. Rick was being insistent, and I wondered whether he was always this much of an arsehole.

  “We aren’t here to hurt you. I just want to ask questions.” Her voice shook as her eyes darted around the room.

  The deep rumble continued as if a roll of thunder was occurring in the dilapidated house, but it soon became clear that it was far from thunder. It was laughter. It rang through the room and enveloped the house in the chill of the sound. The room shook as the chuckle grew in intensity and volume. It overtook the small camera Rick held and soon became a mass of sound vibrating through the cinema. It was the only thing I could hear, and it took all my willpower not to cup my hands to my ears.

  I glanced at Olivia, who grimaced, sitting as far back in her seat as she could get.

  “Rick?” Karen whispered. Gone was the earlier bravado, replaced with primordial fear. It shone from her eyes and gleaned from her pores. She was terrified, and she wanted out of there.

  T
he camera kept rolling, without moving, without answer. The bed jolted, throwing itself in the air before crashing to the floorboards, splintering some under its enormous weight.

  “Rick, we have to get out of here!” Karen threw herself up, diving from the old bed and towards the camera.

  I saw a close-up shot of her chest as she lunged for Rick, and then she moved backwards. The fear had multiplied as she stared at her husband.

  “Rick? What’s wrong with you?” Her voice trembled.

  Then Rick moved, the camera travelling upwards as he advanced towards his wife. Karen stepped back, head shaking. The screen darkened, and soon only the whites of her eyes were visible.

  Another shaky step forward. The camera was beginning to lower as if Rick was holding it by his side, stalking towards his wife. It shook from side to side, and we got a view of the manky carpet. It was covered in years of filth and grime.

  Then the whole room burst into movement as Karen darted for the door. The camera shook as a struggle ensued. There was a muffled cry and then a thump.

  A few moments later, the camera was picked up again, and this time Rick spun it towards himself. The man we’d seen at the beginning of the film was gone. This was no longer a man. He was a demon. He stared at the screen with dark eyes, malevolence thick.

  “Peyton?” Olivia whispered. Her hand gripped the seat handle a little tighter, knuckles going white.

  The screen went back. We were plunged into darkness, and I heard a sharp breath as Olivia hissed.

  “It’s okay. Just wait,” I whispered back.

  I didn’t know if it was okay. I didn’t know if the film was coming back on. But I had to believe it would. I had to wait and know that I was waiting for something.

  The silence stretched on, blackness becoming a thick visceral entity. The only sound was that of Olivia as she breathed, the mounting quickness a sure indicator that she was close to the edge of panic.

  I reached out blindly, and my hand came to rest on hers. I felt the heat emanating from her fingers as they continued to grip the seat rest. I squeezed hard and then let my hand rest there. I felt better knowing I wasn’t alone in this. It felt stupid, but I couldn’t help it. The darkness, the stories Roman had told us, they were all getting to me. Being there in the darkened cinema was like leaving ourselves vulnerable to whatever was in there with us. And whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t good.

  Then the darkness shifted, shadows moving in the pitch black of the theatre. I sucked in a breath. The hand that rested on top of Olivia’s was slick with sweat, but I didn’t relinquish my hold. I couldn’t. I needed her as much as she needed me.

  The shadow continued to move, melding in the darkness like a cauldron, its contents thick and viscous. Then it became elongated and thin, the mass moulding into a smaller area. A head formed, and then the shape formed right in front of my eyes, from top to bottom, sculpting into the frame of a human. The neck was thin and long, and the shoulders were pressed together. The torso was almost shapeless, tapering down to the waist and then legs that held the form together and upright.

  The breath hitched in my throat as I stared. What was I seeing? There were no words, no possible explanation for what was going on in front of me and yet there it was standing as plain as day amongst the darkness.

  “Peyton.” Olivia’s whispered, voice trembling, hand quaking beneath mine. “Do you . . . is that . . .”

  I gulped. I knew what she was asking, and I didn’t want to answer. To answer made it real. Because she had acknowledged it meant it was real. My heart thumped as I continued to stare at the writhing mass of shadow. It seemed to be fluid, movable, and yet solid.

  It took a step forward on those solid legs, onto the first step of the cinema.

  My stomach clenched. It was coming up the stairs.

  “Peyton.” Her voice was thick with the same fear that had me bolted to my seat as it took another step.

  It moved methodically, but I knew it was coming for us, and I didn’t want to be anywhere near when it arrived.

  My hand curled into a fist around her palm as my other hand fumbled on the seat beside me, for my bag. I never looked away from the shadow.

  It continued to stalk towards us, slow and steady, but always moving.

  It was around halfway up the stairs now. I could see the mass of the thing, dense and full of the hatred it was borne of. We had to get out of there.

  “Let’s go.” I tugged Olivia’s palm and stood, turning to my right, away from the thing, blindly packing the devices I’d previously placed on the seat.

  She didn’t need telling twice. She was up with me and we were scuttling down the aisle as fast as we could. Every now and then, I looked behind us to see the shadow still en route, still following as if we hadn’t just upped and left, and I knew we’d be followed to the ends of the earth. This thing was determined to get what it came for.

  I heard Olivia’s panting, with each step she took, and now and again felt the extra weight of her body as she tugged the backpack.

  We made it to the end of the row, where another set of steps tapered to the ground floor and the black screen. Now that we were out of the narrow walkway, we could move unhindered.

  I legged it down the steps as fast as my legs would carry me, without tumbling over. I reached the bottom, breathless and panting but as I looked back up and saw the shadow still moving along the row, I felt better.

  Olivia jumped the last few stairs, landing beside me, with a thud, but she didn’t stop there. She moved right past me, past the screen and towards the exit flashing green in the dark. I hurried to catch up, the bag heaving up and down on my back.

  I rounded the corner. Then we sprinted the last few feet to the doors, crashed through them and into the hallway. We didn’t stop until we reached the lighter area of the foyer.

  “What . . . the fuck . . . was that?” Olivia panted, eyes glued to the darkness of the hallway we’d emerged from.

  I straightened. “I guess that’s what Roman was talking about.”

  “Holy fuck, Peyton.” She shook her head. “That thing came out of the screen.”

  “It turns out he was right.”

  “Right about what?” a male voice cut in.

  Olivia yelped and spun to face the man. He stood just behind us, hands clasped and wearing the same bored expression as I’d become accustomed to seeing on him.

  “Jeez, Roman.” Olivia’s hand went to her heart. “No need to sneak up on people like that.”

  He shrugged. “I have soft steps.”

  “Roman, you were right.” I regained my breath and senses. “The thing came right out of the screen.”

  “I told you.” He nodded. “Where is it now?”

  “It was still in there.” Olivia pointed to the hall.

  I imagined it approaching the doors, opening them slowly and soundlessly, then stepping into the hall. I imagined it creeping towards us in the dark, ready to pounce. I shuddered.

  “Work your magic, girls.” He clapped, and it echoed in the vacant foyer.

  “What?” I stared at him.

  “I brought you here to deal with the ghost. Now deal with it.”

  “Woah.” I held up my hand. “First, you brought me here to deal with a ghost, not some weird shadow creature that crawls out of a cinema screen. Second, we have no idea what that thing actually is.”

  “Not my problem. Deal with it.” He spun on his heel, marched towards his office, and retreated like the coward he was.

  “Did he really just do that?” Olivia stared after him, jaw hanging

  “Apparently so.” I sighed.

  His office door slammed shut, and it meant one thing—he was out.

  “I say we just take off. I mean, who does he think he is treating us like that?” she went on. “He gets us to come down here and expects us to deal with something we have no clue on.”

  “That’s it!”

  “What?”

  I turned and marched to his office. Rom
an looked up, startled as I stood in the doorway. I said nothing, but my eyes scanned the desk, and I saw just what I was looking for. I grabbed the laptop and pulled it towards me.

  “Hey! I need that!” he whined.

  “I need it more.” As I turned the screen to me, I caught sight of a woman’s naked backside and raised my brow. “Yeah, you really needed that.” I stormed from the office, making sure to slam the door, and left Roman blue all over.

  “You took his laptop?”

  Olivia brightened as I came back through to the foyer and set the device on the counter without bothering to wipe it down first. If it got covered in smears of tomato sauce and mustard, then it was his problem for running such a dump.

  “We need to know about the place the film was made.” I shrugged. “I mean, I’ve lived here my whole life and haven’t even heard of the place, have you?”

  Olivia shook her head.

  “Any history would help us figure it out.”

  “Okay. Google the name Hilltop House.”

  I did as she asked, and within seconds, a whole bunch of pages came up. I scanned through the first few links. They all contained the keyword, but it was the second link that caught my eye. Death at Hillside.

  I clicked it, and a news article popped up. Death at Hilltop House.

  The derelict house, Hilltop House, was once a family home that belonged to the Donaldsons. They had lived there since the house was erected in 1823, and saw a long line of Donaldsons as its heir. The house has been abandoned since 1956, when there was nobody left to oversee the home. However, this does not mean it has been empty. Hilltop House has long housed squatters, providing them with warmth and shelter. For many years, authorities tried to move the vagrants, before leaving them in peace.

  The house has now become a focal point for a different reason. In 2016, the body of a young man was found in the basement of the stately home after a homeless man reported it to local police. When the police went to Hilltop House, they found that the property had been abandoned by all but the body. His remains are yet to be dated, but officials state that he has been there for some time.