I should’ve said no. I hadn’t even finished unpacking the breakup boxes in my room when Jamie texted. Something like “We’re filming again—abandoned town this time. Come with. You need this.” At that point, I would've said yes to anything that wasn’t scrolling through sad playlists alone. So I packed a hoodie, my charger, and zero expectations.
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It wasn’t until we passed the third dead signal zone that I remembered who I was with. Jamie, Leo, Mira, and Dani weren’t just friends. They were a horror-thirsty vlogging group with a decent following for poking around in places most people ran away from. Ghost towns. Asylums. Ruined churches. They called it "paranormal exploration," but let’s be honest — it was chaos with a camera.
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“GPS died again,” Jamie announced cheerfully as we coasted past thickening trees. “This place really said ‘get lost.’”
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“No signal either,” Mira said, double-tapping her screen. “Love that for us.”
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I looked up from my lap. “Do we even know where we’re going?”
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“Better when we don’t,” Leo said from the back. His camera was already recording.
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They weren’t worried. In fact, they were getting excited — the kind of buzz you get before a roller coaster drops. I should’ve felt the warning in my bones.
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---
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We passed a sign:
> WELCOME TO ELORIA.
> Population: \[blank]
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Just that. No number. No date.
Like the town had erased itself on purpose.
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“Creeeepy,” Jamie grinned. “I love it already.”
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Dani leaned against the window. “It’s got that ‘lost in time’ aesthetic. Perfect lighting.”
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“No people though,” I muttered.
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“Even better,” Mira said. “No one to tell us to stop filming.”
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---
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The town looked… paused. Storefronts dusty but not broken. Cars parked but empty. Windows intact, yet no lights inside. Like someone hit freeze and walked away. The only sound was the van’s engine and Jamie humming some eerie tune he made up on the spot.
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Then we saw it.
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A mansion.
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At the end of a long road, wrapped in ivy and shadows. Stone walls, iron gate bent open like it gave up years ago. The windows were cracked and blind, and the front door stood perfectly still.
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“Oh hell yes,” Leo whispered. “Are you guys seeing that?”
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“That’s our thumbnail,” Dani grinned. “Ten million views.”
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“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said. “You wanna stay in there?”
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“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“Absolutely.”
They all answered at once.
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---
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We parked near the front steps. Jamie was already halfway to the door before the engine even died. “Place like this? We’re legally obligated to explore it.”
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“You guys have issues,” I mumbled.
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They laughed like I told a joke.
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To them, this was nothing. Another haunted place. Another night of EMF buzzers, cold spots, and maybe a faint whisper on audio playback that their fans would obsess over.
But me?
I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t used to chasing fear. I didn’t want thrills. I just wanted to stop feeling like a ghost myself.
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The door opened on its own. No wind. No effort. Just that long, aching creak — like the house knew we were coming.
Inside, it was colder. Darker. The dust hung in the air like it had nowhere else to go. The floor groaned beneath our steps. The air smelled wrong — like metal, wet wood, and something I couldn’t name but made my throat tighten.
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“This place is sick,” Mira said, snapping pics.
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“I’m getting residual energy vibes,” Leo said, panning his camera slowly across the hallway.
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Dani peeled a white sheet off a grand piano. “It’s like no one ever left.”
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I stood near the entrance, frozen.
There were portraits along the walls. Each one… the same girl. Pale face. Long black hair. Eyes scratched out.
My chest tightened.
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“She’s kind of creepy-hot,” Jamie said, examining one closely. “Like, Victorian ghost girlfriend material.”
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“Dude,” Mira rolled her eyes. “Don’t simp for the spirit.”
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They kept joking. Laughing. Recording.
I was the only one who couldn’t smile.
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We set our stuff down in what used to be the living room. The furniture was ancient but intact, like someone had tried to preserve it. I sat on the edge of a dust-covered couch, scrolling through my dead phone even though I knew there’d be no notifications. Not from him. Not anymore.
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Jamie walked past with a headlamp and tripod. “We’ll shoot a tour first, then maybe some solo reaction bits. Riz, you wanna do yours in the attic?”
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I stared at him. “No.”
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“Aw, c’mon. You’ve got the ‘haunted heartbroken girl’ look. You’d kill it.”
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“Exactly,” I muttered.
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Later that night, after they filmed two hours of shaky footage and a fake séance (for the vlog), I wandered through the house alone. Not because I wanted to. But because something was pulling me.
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The hallways were long and narrow. The air got heavier with every step. I ended up in a side corridor where a small, cracked portrait hung at eye level. Not a painting this time. A photo. The same girl again. Standing outside the very door we entered. Smiling. Head tilted. Eyes… gone.
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There were words carved into the frame:
> SHE SEES THROUGH WALLS.
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I took a shaky breath and stepped back. Then I heard it. A sound behind me. Not footsteps. Not breathing. Dragging. Like bare feet sliding across wood.
I turned slowly. No one was there. But the shadows at the end of the hallway were deeper now. And I swear I saw something… just barely step out of view.
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