"Are You Locked In?" Part 2 of a Hallowe'en ghost story
When we were given permission by the church hierarchy to set up our equipment, it was on the understanding we would leave the building at least half an hour before midnight. “Mr Lawrence,” the dean had said to me with a voice so deep it seemed to send a background resonance around the office. “The reputation this church has earned is not without merit. I urge you to put aside your rational thinking as midnight approaches, and leave while you can.”
That was one week earlier in sunlit, cheery surroundings, words that did little but bring a condescending smile to my face. Now they cut through my head like a screaming laser telling me I was about to be murdered by the most evil ghost that had ever crawled from the abyss.
I was never blessed with a good memory, and yet now, of all times, it managed to churn up every detail of the photograph taken by the previous paranormal investigators who’d been here. That was a couple of years ago, and it wasn’t even Hallowe’en, as it was tonight.
Taken just twenty yards from where I stood rigidly by the thoroughly locked doors, the image of a girl floating a few feet from the floor of the church’s central aisle could be seen in the picture as clear as if she’d been standing in front of me right now. Wearing a tattered white dress, she held in her hand a long blade dripping with blood. It was her face that was really horrific …
What was that?
Something had clicked in the nave, it was a piece of equipment being activated. Temperature and motion sensors had been set in positions where the girl had been photographed, designed to trigger the visual and audio recorders. It had to be that. From my position hidden from the nave, I could see lights flickering, it was the laptop that had snapped into life probably showing what the camera was recording. Then I heard the voice. It was gentle and so crisply clear like a soprano singing her words with malevolent mischief. “Are you locked in?”
The story concludes with part 3 in a few days.
That was one week earlier in sunlit, cheery surroundings, words that did little but bring a condescending smile to my face. Now they cut through my head like a screaming laser telling me I was about to be murdered by the most evil ghost that had ever crawled from the abyss.
I was never blessed with a good memory, and yet now, of all times, it managed to churn up every detail of the photograph taken by the previous paranormal investigators who’d been here. That was a couple of years ago, and it wasn’t even Hallowe’en, as it was tonight.
Taken just twenty yards from where I stood rigidly by the thoroughly locked doors, the image of a girl floating a few feet from the floor of the church’s central aisle could be seen in the picture as clear as if she’d been standing in front of me right now. Wearing a tattered white dress, she held in her hand a long blade dripping with blood. It was her face that was really horrific …
What was that?
Something had clicked in the nave, it was a piece of equipment being activated. Temperature and motion sensors had been set in positions where the girl had been photographed, designed to trigger the visual and audio recorders. It had to be that. From my position hidden from the nave, I could see lights flickering, it was the laptop that had snapped into life probably showing what the camera was recording. Then I heard the voice. It was gentle and so crisply clear like a soprano singing her words with malevolent mischief. “Are you locked in?”
The story concludes with part 3 in a few days.
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