The Standish House

The Standish House
by Terry Burres


The crisp Autumn air stirred the remaining leaves of the oak tree outside my bedroom. As sounds of my sleeping family filled the silence I slipped from my room. I walked past houses dark and still.

By the time I reached Sara’s house I was shivering. We had been planning this trip to the Standish house for weeks. From the shadows Sara fell in step with me. We trapped through the crisp Autumn leaves to the dark run down house in the woods.

The front porch sagged with our slight weight as we crossed to the front door. Pushing gingerly, the door groaned as it gave way so that we could enter into the old house. Gloom and dust hung like a dim curtain that covered the entrance hall.

Sara’s nervous giggle echoed around the high ceiling. Reaching for her hand I walked into room to the left . That afternoon we had prepared the room. Lighting the candle we sat on the blanket in front of the fireplace. Sara picked up her camera.

Sara poked me. I looked toward the doorway where a swirling mist took the form of a girl in a long dress. She flowed into the room. I grabbed the camera and as the flash lit the room she disappeared. Sara’s scream followed us out the door. When we stopped running Sara and I looked at each other .
“Did you remember the film?” we asked each other.