The Haunting Of Hastings House

Chapter 9

By:
Brynn Morgan

Copyright © 2023 by – Brynn Morgan – All Rights Reserved.
It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited.

Chapter 9

Amori drove her brand-new Mercedes-Benz SL 55 AMG up the driveway, a gift from her husband for her upcoming baby shower on Saturday. She parked it far away from the willow trees to keep its shiny silver surface pristine. She was proud as a peacock of this car, knowing that nobody else owned one like it.

Amori climbed out of the car, feeling a wave of dizziness from the sweltering heat. She stumbled up the driveway to the steps in front of the mansion. Her high heels were a bright scarlet color that perfectly complemented her large leather handbag, earrings, and necklace.

If only the circumstances were different, she thought with a sigh. In just a few short days after Emily moved in, news of a break-in had spread like wildfire, and Amori was there to survey the damage and report back to Hasting's owner. She could not believe it.

Amori stood at the door and rang the bell. She had something to share with Emily about her stay, but she was trying to conserve it for as long as possible. The poor woman had already been through enough. Now, she would have to search for a new home more suitable for a single guest than this vast house.

Amori rested her hand on her protruding baby bump and waited in anticipation. Her irritation grew when no one answered the doorbell; she even glanced around to see if Emily's car was parked nearby. When she saw nothing, she pounded on the door hard and was startled when it suddenly opened.

Amori stepped inside to escape the heat. Across the grand entrance hall, a full-length mirror revealed her figure in her black pantsuit and cascading blond waves. She took a deep breath, walked through the entryway, and approached the posh dining room. She dreaded surveying the kitchen; Hillary had mentioned intruders completely wrecked it. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she approached the swinging door and pushed it open to enter.

Astonished, Amori whispered an expletive. Hillary would be livid when she saw the photos taken on Amori's phone and sent them to her. She had put a ton of money into renovating the kitchen; that morning, Hilary had told Amori this in a phone conversation. It was chaos.

After taking the necessary shots, Amori strongly wanted to use the restroom. She made her way down the back hallway to Emily's room. She used the bathroom, and just as she flushed and stood up, she heard a door close somewhere in the distance.

"Em's?" she called out, drying her hands with a butter-yellow linen towel from the countertop. No response came.

Amori fished through her handbag for her cell phone—no new messages.

"I'm up here, Amori," came Emily's voice from upstairs. A flood of relief ran through Amori as she looked up at all the steps leading to the second-floor landing. Pregnancy meant she didn't want to make it up there!

"Hey, Ems! I saw the kitchen—whoa, what a mess! Were you scared? Did you see who did it?"

No answer echoed back down to her.

Amori's frustration was palpable. "It's rude that you're not coming down here, Emily," she said, patting her stomach with the palm of her hand and still waiting for a response.

She carefully climbed the steps, breathing heavily, when she reached the top. A smile crept onto her face as she remembered a saying from down South: "In the South, women don't sweat - we glow, honey!"

Amori saw the sprawling lawn and garden from the large half-moon window. She heard something coming from down the hall and began walking towards it.

Peeking into each room as she passed, she felt an uneasy sensation in her stomach until Amori eventually had to stop and hold her stomach; the chicken biscuit she'd eaten earlier that morning threatened to reappear. Turning around, she walked back down the hallway until the feeling dissipated.
Amori remembered when Emily got sick up there the other day, and she felt a little bit of apprehension being up there on the landing now, all by herself. She suddenly felt so cold.

Amori was shivering. She needed to get out of there. She was not feeling good at all.

"Em's. I do not feel so well. Can you help me down these stairs? She asked, feeling very scared for some odd reason.

Amori's turned toward the stairs, and she waited. No response, and then she heard footsteps behind her.

"Yes." she heard—a soft voice.

Amori turned, grateful that it was Emily, and as she turned, her eyes widened in unspeakable horror.
It was not Emily.

Amori's eyes widened in terror as the ghostly figure loomed before her. Its gaping mouth was a horror, and its bottomless black eyes held no soul. The figure slowly smiled maliciously.

Panic overtook Amori, immobilizing her with fear as she stood atop the stairs. Denying what she saw was real, she shook her head rapidly. But it made no difference; the spirit moved forward until it violently pushed her down the steps. Her body seemed like a limp rag doll as she helplessly tumbled down each curve of the wooden staircase, coming to a stop when she slammed into the floor with a sickening thud.

As life left her in those last moments, Amori looked up at the floating woman above her with her neck broken. Her long black hair flowed like a dark veil around her shoulders as she grinned horrifically and turned away, vanishing down the corridor with only a glimpse of her black boots showing beneath her sweeping black skirt.

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