C106: Prank

“AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—!”

Inside the mansion, a piercing, agonizing scream reverberated through the halls. But beneath the agony was an ethereal voice; it was beautiful in a horrifying way.

“!”

Erin jolted upright, her heart skipped.

She dropped the cloth she had been holding and rushed upstairs, trying to locate the source of the scream.

‘That wasn’t Miss Marion’s voice. Is there someone else in this mansion?’ she thought, her mind racing.

As far as Erin knew, there was only her, Master Arnold, and the severe Miss Arriet Marion residing in this vast, lonely mansion.

But the voice she had just heard seemed to belong to someone else entirely.

Or—

‘Am I imagining it?’

The scream lingered in her ears. It was angelic yet torn. Beautiful even as it was soaked in agony.

Her skin prickled.

‘Is it a thief?’

Erin cautiously paced toward the source of the voice, her hand trailing along the flocked wallpaper for balance.

She reached the third floor.

The hallway stretched long before her. The afternoon dusk seeped its glowing orange light through the tall windows, casting elongated shadows along the corridor, turning familiar doors into unfamiliar silhouettes.

She passed room after empty room, making her way toward the staircase that led to the attic.

‘This is Miss Marion’s room.’

Arriet’s room was right beside the attic staircase.

Erin knocked gently on the door.

“Miss Marion?”

No response.

Erin hesitated.

‘Didn’t she just demand that I knock before approaching?’

Erin pressed her ear against the cold wood of the door.

Arriet’s room was completely quiet; she guessed the girl was resting.

‘The scream came from the attic.’

Master Arnold’s stern warning washed over her: do not wander to the attic.

Her fingers tightened at her chest.

‘But that sound… it sounded so painful.’

‘What should I do?’ Erin looked toward the dark, narrow staircase, her expression deeply skeptical. What if someone was truly up there, in need of help?

She knocked again.

“Miss Marion?” she tried again, her voice a little louder this time. The little girl was the only person Erin could ask, the only other soul supposedly in the house.

Still no answer.

“Beg your pardon, Miss Marion. Please answer.”

Silence pressed back at her.

She knocked harder.

“Miss, someone is here, miss. I heard a scream!”

Still, there was no answer.

Erin looked toward the attic stairs again, pressing a hand against the frantic fluttering in her chest.

‘Just a quick look. Just to be sure.’

Without Arriet’s presence nearby, she grew bolder. The absence of supervision gave her courage.

She slowly turned her heels toward the attic stairs.

—--

Erin ascended the attic stairs.

‘...’

The wooden steps were narrower and steeper than the lower staircases. Each plank groaned under her weight, the sound magnified in the enclosed vertical shaft.

A thin layer of dust clung to the corners where the wall met the steps. Since Arnold forbade her from going to the attic, Erin had not had a chance to clean them.

Outside the small circular attic window, the sun was slowly descending. Crimson and amber light poured through the glass, staining the upper walls in a deep red glow.

The fading daylight clashed strangely with the weak oil lamp fixed along the stairwell wall. Its flame flickered unevenly as if disturbed by a wind that did not exist.

‘These oil lamps are acting strange.’ Erin thought, clasping her hands together tightly.

As she climbed higher, her heartbeat thudded against her ribs.

Master Arnold had warned her not to go to the attic. Miss Marion, too, had warned her about it.

But what exactly was up there?

The air grew noticeably colder with each step. The creak of each step beneath her boots felt louder. Without anyone else near, Erin started to feel a little scared.

Occasionally, the house emitted soft wooden pops, and each one made her shoulders tense. There were also creaking sounds, like a heavy wooden door slowly opening on rusted hinges.

‘Are they hiding something expensive up here?’

It would make sense. Both of the siblings might hide something of great value up there, perhaps an inheritance, or family heirlooms they wished to keep secure. That would explain why there might be a thief up there, too.

Erin tried to justify her actions, rationalizing her disobedience as well as the appearance of that beautiful, agonizing scream.

‘Uh?’

Soon, she stopped mid-step on the staircase.

‘What is that?’

There was something at the top of the staircase.

The oil lamp’s light did not fully reach the landing, leaving the uppermost steps drowned in shadow. The red glow from sunset cast long, warped shapes across the slanted attic ceiling.

She carefully walked up a few steps higher, leaning forward to peer into the gloom.

‘...’

Erin squinted her eyes, and slowly, the outlined figure became clearer in the dim light.

‘?’ She tilted her head in confusion.

At the top of the staircase was a single object.

The gray-haired porcelain doll.

She knew this doll. When she had cleaned Arnold’s study, she had seen it sitting primly on the middle shelf of the grand bookshelf.

Its porcelain head was tilted slightly to the side. Long, delicately painted lashes cast shadows over glassy navy eyes that stared downward without focus. Its small mouth was molded into a neutral expression, neither smiling nor frowning, deeply unsettling in its absolute stillness.

Erin had assumed that this doll was an idol or memento of Arnold’s, so she had only taken a glance, dusted around it carefully without moving it when cleaning his room.

Something about this doll… always gave her a start. It was as if it was constantly watching her when she was dusting the study.

‘But why was it here?’

Why was it blocking the attic door? Erin swallowed and took another cautious step—

“!”

A sudden chill running down her spine.

Something was not quite right with this doll.

Instead of sitting, like its usual posture in Arnold’s room…

It was now standing. Standing upright on its small porcelain feet, facing the attic’s door.

‘Is this… Miss Marion’s prank?’

It must be, right?

The little girl might have pretended to scream then set the doll here to frighten her. That would explain why Arriet had not answered the door.

She must have known Erin would grow curious and come to investigate if left alone.

Was this a form of punishment for snooping?

“Miss Marion, this is not a fun jest…” Erin’s voice wavered slightly.

She swallowed her saliva, forcing down her fear, and approached the standing doll on the top of the staircase.

However, the moment she placed one foot onto the next stair—

The doll’s head tilted.

Its eyes gazed directly toward her.

“!”

Her heartbeat slammed into her ribs.

A wave of gooseflesh rippled across her arms, up her neck, into her scalp. Every hair stood upright.

“Miss…?”

Was this really a prank? A cruel punishment from Miss Marion?

Or…

*Thump thump thump thump thump.*

Arnold’s warning surfaced in her mind.

[‘Do not approach the attic.’]

‘Is this what Master Arnold means?’

Erin forced herself not to stare directly at it. She shifted her gaze downward, letting the doll remain only at the edge of her vision.

“...”

Erin swallowed her saliva. Cold sweat trickled down her forehead.

The red dusk filtered through the window. The oil lamps along the wall flickered continuously, as if warning her.

Perhaps it was just a trick of light. An illusion.

‘Oh dear Mona…’

She prayed this was just a bad dream, an illusion that her tired mind was playing on her in the dim light.

Slowly, carefully, she took one step down.

*Swish.*

A strange sound cut through the silence.

Her head snapped up, only to see—

“!”

The doll leapt toward her!

And In its small, porcelain hand, was a gleaming kitchen knife!

The blade caught the red sunset light, flashing briefly like a shard of dying sun.

“AHHH—!”

Erin jolted, her foot slipped. She lost her balance and tumbled down the staircase.

Her shoulder slammed into the wooden railing. Her elbow struck a step. Her head barely missed the edge of another as she rolled, skirts tangling around her legs.

*Thud, thud, thud!*

The sound of her fall echoed violently through the stairwell, bouncing off the quiet hall.

“Ughh… agh!”

Erin landed hard at the bottom of the staircase, breath knocked from her lungs. Pain flared in her hip and shoulder.

She forced herself to look up.

The doll stood again at the stair landing. Its glassy navy eyes were gone, and in their place, a crimson light flashed.

With each movement of its head, thin streaks of red light trailed through the air like afterimages, cutting through the dim, bloody red glow of the dusk.

Its crimson light moved around. And just as abruptly, the trail stopped, its eyes focusing on her with burning intensity.

The oil lamps above flickered violently, as if welcoming the doll as their new master.

“GahhhHhHHHhhhh!”

Erin's breath hitched. Her thoughts fragmented. She felt as if the temperature dropped, suffocating her.

‘What was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it what was it!’

Erin scrambled backward, practically crawling on her hands and knees away from the stairs.

As she finally got to her feet, she tripped over her own dress and nearly fell again. Tears blurred her vision. Saliva streamed down her chin in pure terror.

The doll began descending. Each step at a time. Slowly. The knife held in its hand scraped against the floor.

“M–Miss!”

Erin screamed. She pushed herself up and ran, half stumbling, half crawling down the hallway toward Arriet’s room.

There was something horribly wrong in this mansion!

“MISS MARION!”

The corridor felt longer than before. The red glow of dusk had deepened as the sun slowly descended.

Her breath rasped loudly in her ears.

Behind her, she could hear the faint *tap… tap… tap…* of porcelain feet striking wood.

Erin reached Arriet’s door and turned the knob frantically. Even if it was rude and inappropriate, this was not the time to care about such a thing!

“!”

The door wasn’t locked!

“MISS MARION!”

Erin bursted in immediately.

“!”

Yet, before her eyes was an unexpected scene.

Arriet lay motionless on the floor.

Her small body was sprawled right next to the bed, as though she had suddenly collapsed. Her eyes were closed.

“MISS! MISS!”

Erin rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside her.

She lifted the girl into her arms.

The little girl did not open her eyes.

Arriet’s body was soft, cold, her limbs offering no resistance whatsoever. When Erin shifted her weight, Arriet’s arm swung limply.

Her long black hair spilled across the wooden floor like ink, strands tangling around Erin’s trembling fingers. The stark white of her dress contrasted against the dark boards beneath her. The lace collar lay crooked, slightly rumpled as if she had fallen forward without bracing herself.

Erin gazed down at the little girl. The scene reminded her of something.

It was as if…

As if she were a puppet whose strings had been abruptly cut.

“Miss, pray…”

Erin did not even check her pulse properly. Panic devoured her reason. She staggered upright, clutching Arriet’s light body against her chest. Driven purely by adrenaline, Erin ran frantically outside the room.

The doll had yet descended to the third floor. The hallway was unexpectedly silent. The small footsteps were no more. The dusk light became darker as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon.

Arriet was lighter than Erin expected. The girl felt almost hollow in her arms. Erin’s mind briefly caught on the wrongness of that, but fear shoved the thought aside.

‘This is not the time!’

She ran, she ran, she kept running in a blind panic. Through the hallway, past the staircase, past the dining room.

He did not dare to look back, terrified of what crimson-eyed horror might be following her down the hall.

“Hah… Hah… Hah…”

Her lungs burned.

By the time she reached the foyer on the first floor, her arms trembled from exertion. The great hall felt darker than before, even though the red light of sunset still filtered through the tall windows.

As Erin ran, she noticed something about the burden in her arms.

‘She… she isn’t breathing!’

There was no rise of her chest.

“Miss! MISS!”

Erin shook her, then more urgently. But there was no response.

The little girl’s head lolled slightly to one side.

A wave of hesitation washed over her.

‘Should I… abandon her?’

There was no reason for Erin to take care of her. They had just met, after all.

Besides, if she dropped the girl, she could run faster. There was no need to burden herself like this.

Silence pressed around her, as if to urge her to choose.

“…”

Erin squeezed her eyes shut. She shook her head violently, dismissing the thought.

‘No, I must leave this mansion! Everything else can be attended to later!’

She slapped Arriet lightly on the back, as if trying to wake someone from a nap, and stumbled toward the front door.

Erin threw them open. Cold evening air brushed against her skin as she ran outside.

The dirt path crunched beneath her boots. The mansion behind her loomed dark and tall, its upper windows reflecting the last smear of crimson sky like half-lidded eyes.

She sprinted toward the gate. Her legs burned. Her breath tore painfully in her throat.

‘I need to leave this mansion!’ Her mind was a whirlwind of fear. Her body was exhausted. Her arms throbbed from carrying Arriet, her legs ached from the unaccustomed exertion.

‘I must find Mister Otto!’

Hope flared weakly inside her.

Erin knew of him from her brief time in the village and the talk among the common folk. He was famous in Winterin; almost everyone knew about the strange, hunched apothecary.

‘He could… he could understand this!’

Upon standing in front of the gate, Erin hesitated for half a second and looked back at the mansion.

The window stood dark, in contrast to two small crimson orbs that appeared behind one windowpane.

“...”

Erin shook her head. She wrenched open the iron gate, and ran out into the darkening forest, clutching Arriet’s lifeless body to her chest.

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