When hinges creak in doorless chambers...

[hatchethanging]

 
 

 

 
 







Welcome, foolish mortals,
to the Haunted Mansion.



Watch your step on the way in, please.

 

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[cookswithspite]

There’s a horrible moment where Noah can’t stop his own momentum and he tips partway over the railing. An expansive graveyard and the distant black grounds of the mansion fills his vision, just at the same moment that the agonized howling of the Host splits through his skull like a hatchet.

Oh God, Noah thinks, I’m really going to die here.

But before he can make the fatal drop a pair of arms wrap around him and Noah is hauled backwards. He stumbles to the floor of the balcony, legs buckling into an ungainly heap alongside Cameron. And the Host is still screaming.

Noah slams his hands over his ears, barely noticing when Cameron lets go of him in order to retrieve the spellbook and slip it into his jacket.

By mutual unspoken agreement, both of them scramble to their feet and run like hell.

It shouldn’t be simple, the place is dark and cluttered, but somehow adrenaline and terrified instinct keeps them moving through the dusty furniture, and then up and down random stairs and passageways, darting through doorways and abandoned rooms. At some point they grab one another’s hand and Noah can’t remember if it was him or Cameron who reached out first but he’s glad of it, in spite of the slick sweat on their palms.

No matter how far away they run he still feels the Host’s screams ringing in his ears.

[hatchethanging]

The Host sinks to the floor. Through the floor. Into the Mansion's darkness.


The mortals flee where no mortals should ever be.

The corridors are smothered in cobwebs to the point of hiding doorways and windows. Almost no candelabra passed is lit. The air is damp, heavy, smothering. Lacking in portraits and sometimes wallpaper, eyes still flicker to life and follow their wild path through the Haunted Mansion. From the Grand Hall even now, strains of the Organist's tune echo from unexpected twists and turns.

Of all things, it seems to be raining again. At least, that's probably what that distant drumming coming from somewhere above them is.

Sooner or later, they'll strike a dead end. A bedroom, in fact, domineered by an oak bed with ragged sheets and a dusty vanity.

We open the curtain on Act 2 with: words words words words

[cookswithspite]

If there’s one thing adrenaline can’t make a pair of teenage boys run through, it’s a very solid bedroom wall.

And now that they’ve stopped running, Noah doesn’t know if he’ll be able to run again in his life. His chest and legs are burning from the strain, and the thickness of the air and dust isn’t helping him catch his breath. He’s able to let go of Cameron’s hand and slink over to the bed, where he collapses into a more or less sitting position, but even that feels like a Herculean effort.

Cameron sits next to him a few moments later, fishing out his phone. “Still no signal,” he says, in between breaths, “But it... should give us some more light.”

Technically it does, but the electronic glow of the phone’s screen just makes the rest of the room feel darker in comparison, the shadows of all the furniture being cast into sharper relief. And the sound of Cameron panting is setting Noah on edge. Cam’s never this out of breath, or at least- technically Noah has seen Cam out of breath before, usually after a P.E. class or sneaking out of someone’s bedroom or some other misadventure, but he never sounds tired, not like this.

“Where…” Noah pauses for a breath before continuing, “...are we?”

“Beyond the obvious?” Cameron says, shining the light at the bed posts. “...Hm. No idea. We shouldn’t stay here too long though… Best not to get trapped in a dead end if anything comes after us… He was very loud.”

That was the understatement of the century. It occurs to Noah that he has no idea if the Host is… “alive” is obviously wrong, so he mentally settles for “alright.” It would probably be better for them if the Host wasn’t, of course, but… it had sounded like he was in a lot of pain, for someone without a body.

“What was that thing you were reading? That… spell, I mean,” Noah gestures vaguely at Cameron’s jacket.

“The one about the earth and air and whatnot? Some banishment spell or other. I figured odds were somebody was going to notice the book was missing sooner or later, and might have a problem with it, so that was the first thing I looked up in the index. And that one was the simplest looking one, so I flipped to it as soon as I heard someone coming.” Cameron grins, a little shakily, at Noah. “I can’t believe you actually managed to follow me all the way into the attic, by the way.”

“I can’t believe you stole a spellbook from a decapitated woman in a crystal ball, yet here we are.”

Cameron laughs but oddly, it doesn’t make Noah feel any better. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Cameron says. “All of this has been right here for so long, and we had no idea.”

“I wish we still had no idea!” Noah buries his face in his hands. “Why did you even come here? And why did you take that stupid book?”

“...It wasn’t exactly planned, you know. We- Mali, Dillon, Adrian, Leilani and me- we all had some time to kill, and I was the only one willing to go in further than the porch, once we saw the lights were on.”

“Mali didn’t mention the part about the lights,” Noah mutters.

“Maybe she was trying to trick you, or trying to trick herself. Anyway. You can probably guess the rest- I’m not sure how much of the tour the Host gave you, but he started showing off all sorts of things. A gallery with moving walls, paintings that changed-”

“Yeah, all that,” Noah interrupts. “We were just outside of Madame Leota’s room when he found out what you’d done.”

“-I see. Well, he left me unattended while we were in the ballroom and while it was all very interesting, I hadn’t gotten as good a look at everything as I’d wanted. So I backtracked a bit and when I got to the seance room I noticed the Madame seemed pretty distracted and well… There was an opportunity, so I took it.”

At this point, Noah finally removes his face from his hands just so he can shoot Cameron his best annoyed look. “So you stole it on some sort of whim?”

Cameron, of course, merely raises his eyebrows. “You make it sound like I got dared to lift some candy bars.”

“No, I mean- You stole something, first off, which is bad, obviously- but then of course you’ve seen how insane this place is and you decided ‘Oh, you know what will be fun? Messing with all of it!’ What if that spell had, had banished you or something?!”

“It shouldn’t have, considering I specified the Host in the right place.”

“That’s-!”

“-Besides, if I hadn’t risked that spell he would have just taken the book from me and then we’d have been defenceless, right?”

Noah actually has to take a moment to think about this. Obviously the Host had been terrifying him all evening, but… “It wasn’t like he was going to kill us. I mean, I talked to him and the Madame, they agreed that if you just gave the book back we could get to go home and everything would go back to normal.”

Cameron laughs again, but this time it’s obviously forced. “How generous! And then I suppose we’d never have anything to do with ghosts or anything remotely unusual ever again?”

“...Ideally, yeah.” Noah huffs. “Are you even hearing yourself right now? There could be real consequences for all of this! We, we don’t know how any of this works so just- How do you think your Dad would feel if you never came home again?”

Cameron goes quiet.

Noah hopes, desperately, that maybe that’s a sign that Cameron’s reconsidering things- his cousin’s expression seems thoughtful, but it’s hard to read in the gloom. And then it gets even harder to read when Cameron casually swings his phone so the light is shining right into Noah’s eyes.

Noah flinches, having to turn away. “Jesus, watch where you point that thing!”

“I assume he’d be very, very sad,” Cameron says calmly. “My turn to ask a question. I’ve been wondering, why did you follow me here in the first place?”

“What-? What kind of question… I mean, you didn’t show up when you said you would, and I thought you’d get into some sort of trouble… which you did, by the way…”

“So? You don’t have to follow me everywhere, all the time. You could’ve just gone home.”

Noah stiffens. Why does Cameron have to phrase it like that? He wants to turn his head to glare at Cameron, but of course his cousin’s still holding that stupid light up. “I told you,” Noah says, “You were in trouble-”

“Of course I was,” Cameron says. “You did lead the Host right to me. Not to mention interrupted the banishment spell, even when you had no idea what it even was.”

“I didn’t lead him to you! And look, I had a bad feeling about that spell-”

“You have a bad feeling about everything.”

“I do not!” And even Noah has to cringe at how blatantly childish his own response is. There’s just something about the way Cameron is talking that is flustering him even worse than normal. That maddeningly even tone of voice, like he’s being oh-so-reasonable, and then there’s Noah flying off the handle, having no idea what he’s doing or talking about.

“I’m just saying,” Cameron continues, “It’s a bit irritating having you moaning about everything when I never asked you to come get me in the first place.”

Noah can’t even say anything to that, not at first. The only thing that comes out is an angry little noise. He’s “just saying?” Somehow, it feels like a punch in the face would have been kinder. His stomach keeps twisting up, it takes several attempts before he can spit out: “You selfish- You- You complete and utter prick.”

Cameron finally moves the light away, but Noah doesn’t bother to try and look up.

“Look,” Cameron says, standing up. “Forget it. Let’s just go before anyone else finds us.”

Noah remains seated. “...Why don’t you just find your own way, if I’m such a nuisance?”

There’s another pause, before Cameron says, “Sure, why not? I bet the ghosts will be happy to help an upstanding guy like yourself out of here.”

“I do have that whole didn’t-steal-their-fucking-spellbook-thing going for me, don’t I?”

“Right, and if the goodness of their hearts isn’t enough to compel them, I’m sure they’ll get bored of you before too long.”

“And maybe they’ll finally get so sick of you being such a self-centered dick that even the axe murderers will want you out of here!”

“And when they chop my head off you can tell everyone how you knew this would happen all along!”

“Just get OUT, Cameron!”

Noah’s expecting Cameron to offer some blithe retort or another, but the only thing he hears is a moment of silence, followed by the shuffle of Cameron’s feet. The light from Cameron’s phone drifts across the room, before disappearing entirely along with the sound of the door shutting.

Noah blinks back his tears, pretending that his eyes are only watering from the light that had been pointed at him.

[hatchethanging]

Their desperate flight away wasn't quiet, and neither was their conversation after. A few curious haunts followed the steps and the sounds, lingering just out of sight in the walls and the ceilings. Cameron himself nearly brushed his hair against the floating heels of one of the Waltzing Dead from the ballroom--one that disperses himself into floating, flickering lights, and begins to follow again. The Host had asked to carefully contain before.

While the bedroom itself would have been a perfect opportunity, a few ghosts have trouble letting go of some lifetime qualms. Trapping young men in a lady's bedchambers is one of them.

"My goodness. What a terribly rude young man," the lady in question huffs from the other side of the bed.

Noah may or may not recall the young woman he'll turn to see seated daintily across from him--one from the stretching room's portraits, the lady who met her end at the teeth of an alligator, as the many terrible teeth-marks puncturing through her stomach show. Her parasol is folded up now, resting across her lap.

She hadn't been there the entire time. Not in that spot, anyway. She'd been watching from the vanity. Perhaps he hadn't seen her due to the dust in the reflection. Or the emotions of the pair. More likely that, she concludes, staring past Noah at the shut door.

[cookswithspite]

Noah doesn’t merely turn around at the sound of the lady’s voice, but springs right off the bed like a cat that’s been sprayed by water and presses himself against the wall opposite. For a moment he just stands there squinting at her (Why does she look familiar…?) before he attempts to formulate an actual response.

“Who- How- What- How-”

It does not go very well, and it’s anyone’s guess if the redness in his face is from exertion, embarrassment, or the tears he’s not doing very well at hiding, but he eventually settles on “How long have you been here?” as a first question.

[hatchethanging]

This ghost, at least, has the grace to look abashed. Slightly. She doesn't much sound it, though, when she answers.

"Long enough. You two were loud enough to wake the dead!" Her laugh's a high twitter. She stands, stepping through the bed to stand a bit closer to Noah. "--This is my room, you see. I'm Sarah Slater, but please, call me Sally!"

She sticks the hand without a parasol out. She's wearing gloves, though they blend in with the pallor of her ghostly skin fairly well.

"...Oh! And if you're afraid, nobody is going to chop anyone's head off. ...But I know that one's going to tempt a few if he keeps being so snotty. Really, a trespasser has no right to be acting like that!" she insists, shifting quickly from comforting to annoyed.

[cookswithspite]

At the laugh, Noah slumps, sliding partway down the wall. He can’t say he’s surprised that she heard all that, but...

“Oh. Well, that’s just perfect,” Noah says. Sarcastic as it is, there isn’t much venom in that comment. Especially since he punctuates it with a quiet sniffle.

“...Noah,” he mumbles. “...but you probably already got that.” He’s polite enough to take her hand, intending to shake it, but when he does her hand is so cold that he has to stifle a noise (“Ngh-!”) and immediately drops it, along with a full body shiver.

“Uh. Thanks?”

He still wants to defend his cousin even after the argument, and that realization makes him feel extra pathetic. Although the reassurance that nobody’s going to behead anyone does make him feel less scared, even as he tries to remind himself this is coming from a dead woman with several gashes through her.

At any rate, Noah can’t help but say “...You think he’s snotty?”

[hatchethanging]

"Oh! I'm sorry, I forgot mortals don't do well in contact with us." She pulls her hand back and hides them both behind her back, parasol point poking out. "I haven't had a chance to see someone like you up close in ages!"

Other ghosts are better at having a fun time, but anything new is exciting! Even if it clearly went wrong with these living people so far from where they should be.

"Of course. You were just trying to help, weren't you? That's what it sounded like. Is it true, though? He stole..." Sally leans forward, dropping her voice to a worried whisper. "...her spellbook?" There are plenty of beat-up tomes in the Mansion he could have been holding. She, one of the more uninformed, hopes that's the case.

[cookswithspite]

Noah briefly averts his gaze, embarrassed by the idea of anyone wanting to see him up close regardless of the reason. “You, uh, must not get a lot of visitors,” he mumbles. “If you think I’m that exciting.”

He was trying to help but… “try” is the operative word there, Noah glumly thinks. So far he hasn’t really helped Cameron- or the ghosts for that matter- worth a damn, has he?

“Um. Yeah. Sorry,” Noah says, slowly making eye contact again. “I don’t even know why he wants it. I guess it’s a novelty to him?” Thinking about it, his forehead furrows as he tries to work it out. “...I really don’t think he’d want to harm this place, but. He’s set enough on that stupid thing that he even tried banishing that Host guy…”

Ugh. And remembering that incident is making him feel that lurch in his stomach all over again. It’s not just the guilt over whatever happened to the Host, but if Cameron hadn’t been quick to haul him back, Noah’s sure he would’ve been a very dead mess on the ground below.

It’s just typical, isn’t it? Noah sets out to rescue Cameron from his own folly and just winds up complicating everything in the process, and then Noah has to be the one rescued. He sighs and drops his gaze, slumping further until he’s flopped into an awkward sitting position on the floor.

[hatchethanging]

"...You've stirred things up," the lady says with a touch of rue. She actually isn't sure he should be in here, with his nervousness and utterly irritating friend.

Sally's hand goes up over her mouth. "Banishing? That's--no good, not at all! You said 'tried'--did he actually do it?" She gets in a little too close, leaning down to search Noah's face. She admittedly doesn't know what happens with banishment from one of Madame Leota's spells, but something happening to the gentleman who hosts them all is definitely going to be a terrible problem!

[cookswithspite]

Noah cringes back, trying to avoid her gaze. But he’s honest when he speaks, even if he’s halting. “I. Don’t know. He didn’t finish the spell but... it sounded like the Host was in pain, somehow.” How could a ghost even feel pain?

“I don’t know what really happened,” Noah mumbles. “I don’t even know what banishment does…” Was it just supposed to kick a ghost out of a place, or was it something that could destroy them? Because it definitely sounded like the latter was going on.

“Wasn’t trying to stir anything up… I just want to go home…” To his utter mortification Noah starts tearing up again and he shuts his eyes tightly, praying that Sally hasn’t noticed.

[hatchethanging]

She presses her hand against her stomach. Sally's never heard of a ghost in pain from anything but symptoms of their own death...

She'll just have to go to Madame Leota and tell her. She doesn't know anything about this.

"Well--" she falters, too close to miss those tears. Oh no. She straightens up again, worriedly flattening her dress over her gashes. "...I can show you the way out."

[cookswithspite]

That should be reassuring, spark some kind of hope in him. It doesn’t.

Noah sniffles, curling up further.

He really does want to go home but… even if Sally’s telling the truth and he’s able to leave the Mansion behind, he can’t help but think about what’s going to happen with Cameron. Noah doesn’t know what’s going to happen with Cameron. His cousin is suddenly hellbent on throwing himself into this dangerous situation and even if Cam gets out on his own, they still had the fight about it.

Cameron at the least is irritated with Noah, and Noah doesn’t know how long that’s been coming. He’s afraid it’s been for a while. And he’s angry with Cameron too, but…

If they’re not friends after this, or if Cameron even dies- where does that leave Noah?

He has to choke back a sob.

"Sorry. I really do want... I'm just... Sorry."

[hatchethanging]

"...There's no hurry, I suppose," she replies uncertainly. "I'll let you stay in here for as long as you feel like." Her room, that is. He doesn't look like he'll be moving much on his own anyway.

But she must find out what's going on, or at least tell Madame Leota about it. Sally flattens her dress out and takes a few ballet steps towards the wall, and she's halfway through it before she thinks to pause and look at him again. "I'll be back soon! I'll...give you some time to collect yourself?" Is that a good idea?

[cookswithspite]

It’s hard, right then, for Noah to pay proper attention to Sally, but even curled up with his vision blurry and his thoughts spiraling downward he catches a bit of that uncertainty. God, he thinks. He must be making her so uncomfortable, acting so weird and babyish like this.

“Sorry. I just-” Noah sniffles, scrubbing ineffectually at his face. “A lot’s been happening.”

He attempts to straighten up, although it doesn’t add much to his dignity. “I don’t want to… bother you…Maybe I...” Maybe he should just go. Even if he’s not sure how to get to the exit. Or would that make things worse? “Um. Can you… give me just a minute?”

[hatchethanging]

"Of course! I'll be back as quickly as I can," she emphatically assures.

With a polite curtsy (still halfway through the wall), Sally vanishes.

And Noah is left to himself. The room is darker without the silhouette of a spirit within it.

Not long after this, another noise comes down the outside hall. A hoarse, croaking call.

Someone else has finally caught wind of the Mansion's chaos-causing visitors, and she's sent out her favorite not-so-little birds to check up. The door shifts itself open, and massive raven swoops in to perch on the headboard of the recently-vacated bed.