Excerpt from "DFF: Dead Friends Forever" by J.R. Turner

Her mouth dry, palms sweaty, she grasped the doorknob. Damp had swollen the wood and she yanked hard to get it open. Cobwebs came with it, followed by a slew of dirt and leaves that layered the thick dust on a flight of narrow, steep stairs. The attic.

Thank God! In a rush, she ran up the stairs, leaned over, and grabbed the first thing her hand landed on--an old silver mirror, the glass long gone, the metal tarnished.

There. Finally.

Three steps down, she remembered to shine the light out the window. She shoved the mirror in the front pocket of her hoodie and turned back, tripping up the stairs in her haste. Boxes, racks of old seventies-style clothes, and furniture spilled across the floor from the shadowed corners of the attic. She pivoted, aimed the flashlight at the empty window frame, and froze.

A girl stood in the way, her pasty skin so white it appeared to glow with a bluish tint. Dark hair dripped down the sides of her sunken face. Eyes, like two pits of black tar, stared at Kaylee. Bluish hands rose in the air, seeming disembodied until the flashlight picked out the girl's black dress in the gloom.

Kaylee screamed and the girl opened her mouth, a gaping hole that stretched impossibly far. A gorge of bubbling, thick fluid erupted out of a bulging throat, coating Kaylee in scum that showed bright red in the flashlight. Screeching again and again, Kaylee backpedaled toward the stairs and fell.

The girl came forward in a jerky, shambling gait. Kaylee rolled to her knees, crawling, afraid to take the time to regain her feet.

Get out! Get out! Get out!

A boom blasted the attic, so loud and powerful, the house shook. She covered her ears and curled her knees to her chest.

Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

Dirt spilled out of the rafters and over her, sticking to the bloody spray on her clothes. Another boom followed, this time so strong, she bounced on the floorboards. A hurricane wind blew into the room. The ghost girl flew apart like ashes, scattering to the far corners of the attic. Pressure forced the air out of Kaylee's lungs. She couldn't scream, she couldn't move, she couldn't see what this new thing was, didn't want to see because she could feel it all around her, pressing on her back, forcing her prone on the floor.

Terrified, she inhaled sharply, gathering herself, pulling her spirit together, a thing she didn't even know she could do. In her mind, she screamed.

NO!

The invisible weight lifted abruptly and she rolled, gasping. Still there, she thought, sensing its puzzlement, its surprise. Pulse pumping with adrenaline, she scurried toward the stairs. The flashlight flew out of her fingers and spun crazily until it landed beside a pool of blood.

The thing came back, he came back, pressing her into the rotted, dry floor. Stunned, she dug deep, searching for that inner energy, to pull it from every corner of her being and fight him off again. His strength immense, her fear even larger, the power within her diminished. He smothered the oxygen from her lungs. Weakly, she cried, “Help me…”

No air left.

Please…someone…help me…

A scream ripped through the air and the pressure vanished.

In front of her, the ghost girl reappeared, her ghastly face contorted with hate-filled rage. Kaylee sensed the presence, sensed him, centering his focus on the girl. A horrible roaring sound beat against her eardrums. The jet-engine noise whined higher and higher, the metal fillings in the back of her mouth shaking with the vibrations. Her throat ached from the high-pitched, frightened screech straining out of her.

Silence.

Crying, she stood on wobbly legs. She dodged the blood and stumbled to the stairs. One foot on the first riser, a final boom hit loud and hard. It felt like a clap of thunder in the confines of the staircase. Thrown forward, she raised her hands to stop a headlong plunge down the steps. A bright, white light filled the space. She blinked until the glare became a hazy aura and her eyes adjusted.

She ran.