Essences of the Past

"Why'd Joey have to dare us to spend two hours here?" Emily sighed, looking gloomily at the only old-fashioned building on Fleet Street. Surrounding it were modern-day businesses that accentuated its crumbling appearance. The fading sign reading Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies was barely legible. People passing ignored them, intent on some other task, despite the late hour.

Emily's friend, Stacey, just rolled her eyes, leading the way to the two-story house. "Let's get this over with, ok? Come on, we'll start upstairs then investigate the pie shop." Mounting the stairs, both girls climbed to the landing, exchanging glances before Stacey opened the creaking door. "One hour here, the next down there. How bad could it be?"

"Don't jinx us, Stace," Emily muttered, laughing uneasily. Her gaze going to the chair occupying the middle of the room, she remembered the legends of Sweeney Todd and gagged, picturing the blood spraying everywhere. Thinking she had seen something move, the frightened girl stiffened when a voice spoke in her ear. Yelping, Emily bolted to Stacey's side, shaking so hard that her teeth chattered. "W-we're not a-alone in here, Stacey!"

"Of course we are, Em," her friend soothed her, hugging her tightly. "I promise you, nothing---Jesus!" A large bang from across the room made the pair jump. Slowly walking toward a dusty vanity table, Stacey gasped upon seeing a box on the floor, seven razors scattered around it. How did that get there? I don't even recall noticing it before! Turning, she faltered, certain that a solid black mass had streaked behind Emily. Putting it out of her mind, she joined her friend, both of them sitting on the floor. Huddling close together, they remained silent for nearly half an hour.

Suddenly, Emily screamed, hands clutching her throat, eyes wide. Agony burned through her body, lungs demanding air that refused to enter her mouth. Then, almost as fast as it had happened, the sensation fled, leaving the girl panting. Feeling hands encircle her, she leaned against who she thought was Stacey. "It was horrible, like my throat had been---Hey, Stace, you're hurting me!" Looking up, she froze, watching the razor slash at her exposed neck, its sharp edge tearing her flesh. Her strength leaving her, Emily toppled, the last thing she heard was an echoing laugh.

Leaping to her feet in a single bound, Stacey rocketed down the steps, slamming the door to the abandoned pie shop behind her. Crying, she stumbled on furniture, searching for another exit. Halting abruptly, the girl glanced upward, moaning as blood began to drip from the ceiling, pooling on the ground. Gradually thickening, it became a steady rain, staining the walls red. Shirt saturated by the fluid, Stacey finally located a door to the street. Tugging on the handle, she yelled, but the door failed to open. Banging on the wood, she succeeded in merely bloodying her hands. Whirling, she backed away, gaze locked on the apparation that was approaching her. "HELP, SOMEONE! PLEASE!" Running into a chair, the girl fell into it, invisible bonds holding her in place.

In a flash, the ghost of Sweeney Todd was in front of her, his shock of white in the black hair blending with the background. Transparent form splattered with blood, the demon barber drew his arm above his head, the razor gleaming. "You disturbed my rest, whelp, now you must pay the price. For who says ghosts can't harm the living?" Laughing wickedly, Sweeney swung his blade in a broad arc, satisfied by the sound it made when it encountered soft skin, releasing a fountain of blood. His disposing of the intruders finished, he vanished, returning to the room upstairs, waiting for the next fools who trespassed in his home.