The Truth of the Creature
By afternoon, they returned to the same place they had fled the night before. The ground bore deep, clawed footprints—fresh. The old mirror by the hallway lay shattered, as if something had come through it, or tried to escape.
Max, still catching his breath, turned to the others. "Listen… I don't think it meant to hurt anyone," he said quietly, eyes darting back to the broken glass. "Last night, after you all left, Matt and I came back. We saw it… the creature. It wasn't attacking—it was searching for something. Desperate. Almost... lost."
Matt nodded grimly. "And the diary—don't forget what it said. There was something about Mary… and another girl. The one who was tortured. The one who died. But Mary… Mary vanished."
A cold silence fell.
Max continued, his voice low. "Every time we try to summon Mary… that thing appears. Not by chance. There's a connection between them—Mary and the girl. Maybe they're the same. Or maybe one is haunting the other."
He stepped closer to the broken mirror, shards glinting like secrets in the fading light.
"We need to find out what she's looking for in this place. Before it finds us first."
The sun was going down behind the trees, and long shadows stretched across the floor of the old house. A strong wind blew through the broken window, making the pieces of glass shake. The air felt colder now, like the house was holding its breath.
Matt knelt next to the strange footprints. "These weren't here earlier," he said softly. "They go down to the basement."
Max looked at him. "That's where we found the diary."
Jess stood by the door, arms crossed. She looked scared. "Do you think she's down there? Or... that thing?"
Max frowned. "I think she's always been here. Watching us. Waiting. Whatever she's trying to find—it's still in this house. And maybe we've already found a part of it."
Suddenly, a loud creak came from the basement stairs.
They all stopped moving.
Matt pointed his flashlight toward the dark stairs. The light shook in his hand. It was quiet now—too quiet, like something was hiding and listening.
Jess took a step back. "This is crazy. We should go. Call for help."
"No one will believe us," Max said. "And if we leave, the spirit might never find peace. If it's Mary down there… maybe we're the only ones who can help her."
Matt took a deep breath and put his hand on the door handle to the basement.
"We have to finish what we started."
The door slowly opened with a long creak.
Then the darkness pulled them in.
The wooden steps groaned under their feet as they walked down into the dark. Matt led the way, his flashlight casting a narrow beam ahead. Dust floated in the air like ash. The deeper they went, the colder it got.
Jess clung to Max's arm, her breath shaking. "It smells like something… old. Like something died down here."
"No one's been in this basement for years," Max whispered. "Except her."
The beam of light swept across the walls—covered in scratches. Long, jagged lines, like fingernails clawing to escape. Symbols were drawn in red. Some were smeared. Some looked fresh.
Then the light hit something in the corner.
A small wooden box, half-open, with a cracked photo frame lying beside it. In the photo—a girl. Pale, wide-eyed, standing next to a smiling woman. The name "Mary" was written on the back in faded ink.
Matt stepped forward. "This… this is her."
Suddenly, the flashlight flickered. Then died.
Everything went black.
A whisper filled the room.
Not from one voice—but many. Soft, broken voices… crying. Laughing. Screaming.
Jess gasped. "Matt, turn the light back on—please."
Click.
The flashlight flicked back to life.
And standing just a few feet away from them—
Was the girl.
Her skin was gray. Her eyes hollow. Her mouth slightly open as if trying to speak, but no sound came.
Then… she pointed.
Toward the box.
And vanished.
The girl's ghost vanished into the shadows, but the cold remained.
Matt took a shaky step toward the box, heart pounding. Jess stayed frozen, her eyes locked on the spot where the ghost had been.
Max knelt beside the wooden box, slowly lifting the lid the rest of the way.
Inside was a small, porcelain doll.
It was dressed in a faded blue dress, lace torn and stained. Its glass eyes stared up, wide and lifeless. One of its arms was cracked. A faint smile was painted on its face, but it didn't feel like a happy smile.
It felt like a warning.
Jess whispered, "Why is there always a doll?"
Max picked it up carefully. Something was wrapped around its neck—a silver locket. He opened it. Inside was a photo… the same girl from the basement wall. Her name, scratched into the metal: Anna.
Matt stepped back. "That's the girl. Not Mary. Anna."
The flashlight flickered again.
And the whispers returned.
But this time, louder. Angry.
The walls shook. A mirror on the far side of the room cracked with a sharp snap. The symbols on the walls began to glow a deep red.
Jess screamed. "We need to go—now!"
But the basement door slammed shut above them.
And then… the doll moved.
Its head tilted, slow and stiff.
Its lips parted.
And in a voice that wasn't human, it whispered:
"She lied to all of you."