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Author's Chapter Notes:
the hands resist him
Shades was just starting to think he could cope with the seemingly random and arbitrary tolling of that infernal grandfather clock, when this time it heralded another spectral vision, much like the first time.

Only this time, he was standing right in the middle of it.

Shadow-shapes strode up and down the halls, sometimes forward, sometimes seemingly in reverse, with nothing to cast them. An indistinct cacophony of voices, all murmuring, whispering, muttering overtop of each other. Flickering glimpses of the doors all opening and closing at random, as he stumbled around in circles, unsure which way to look.

Half-open doors, wall sconces, and scant hall furniture, all casting two or three different shadows at once. Just as it was dying down, he spotted a ghostly, ghastly figure stumbling down the hall. The bloated, drowned-looking apparition of a police officer, aimlessly wandering the halls, casting about in his own abject horror. From somewhere, a woman’s muffled voice screamed for help, accompanied by a faint pounding and thumping.

Shades staggered back as that spectral lawman blundered right toward him, and he threw his arms up to ward off the phantom, fumbling his flashlight in his shock. An icy chill blew through him, cut-ting to the bone like the north wind in winter. Though he had read of such things— even encountered something akin to this once on a certain haunted island— it was still something else to experience it for himself as he stumbled back—

And then it was over.

The halls stood quiet and still once more, leaving him trying to collect his fumbled wits in the wake of this last ethereal episode, before moving to retrieve his fumbled flashlight, as well.

Yet as he bent down to pick it up, relieved to still see a flood of light spilling from it across the floor after that drop, it dawned on him that he was reaching for it in a hallway with all the lights on.

Dim as they were, old-fashioned bulbs in even more antique-looking sconces, and hints of dull light from behind some of the doors. As he picked up his flashlight, deciding that there was no substitute for good backup, he also noticed that the floors weren’t as dusty and gritty under his boots any-more. Aimed the light around and observed that the wallpaper was no longer peeling, either.

As if the house was slipping backward in time in a way that made his skin crawl. Especially as it occurred to him that the place had probably been doing that all along, without him even realizing it, and he shuddered. The idea of a building somehow getting younger without any renovations…

At first he was glad that he had left his radio back the inn, knowing that these sort of phenomena frequently involved eerie emanations and staticky signals on many frequencies. And he strongly doubted whatever force was in play here would allow him to call for outside help anyway. Then he remembered that it sometimes also served as a warning as well as a manifestation, and wondered if he should test that with the radio tuner of the Cam Jam player in his jacket pocket.

Never thought I’d need a radio for a simple shopping trip…

Then he remembered the screaming and pounding from earlier. A woman— or possibly a little girl— and most definitely the latter still trapped somewhere in here. Steeling himself as best he could against the Unknown, he pressed on.

Recalling the tower turrets, deciding that, now that he had somehow worked his way up to the third floor, that he would try to find the tower entrance at the end of the hall.

As he approached the end, though, he found his steps slowing instinctively. Finally came to a halt at what still felt like a less than safe distance from a doorway near the end of the hall, on his right. Unlike the others, this one was pitch-dark, and he could see nothing past the threshold, as if the space beyond swallowed up light.

Sure enough, even his flashlight’s beam didn’t seem to penetrate very far, and he took a reflexive step back at the jarring vision of many pale hands reaching out, groping and dragging him off into that darkness…

Shades continued backing away from that dreadful doorway until he was almost back at the far end of the hall, still grappling with a mixture of revulsion and shame. Revulsion at the intuition that he was nearing the end of the illusions, the end of the warning shots, that whatever came beyond this point would be real. Shame at backing away from a threat that he couldn’t even ascertain, that that must surely be the direction he needed to go if it was being ‘guarded’ by something.

Feared he was about to get turned around in this maze of a mansion once again if he set out in another direction.

With no clear way to distinguish between what was real and what was illusion, there was a terrible risk of blundering into something real if he didn’t take it seriously. Already sure there was, deep enough in. Yet if he started avoiding things out of fear they might be real, the place would just push him around in circles until it was too late to help Melissa.

Reminding him that was putting his life on the line just entering this place, questioning whether there really was anything he could do for her, if he would just be getting himself killed for nothing… and concluded that he had already come too far to turn back.

He was just about to fire up his stun-stick, in spite of his doubts about its usefulness against a thing like that, when he spotted a movement to his left, out of the corner of his eye, and he pivoted that way, dreading what might come next.

As he faced the door next to him, he saw that inside on the far wall was a mirror, and he nearly laughed aloud at the thought that he was jumping at the next closest thing to his own shadow.

He turned to head back to that spooky door again, when another odd movement turned his head back to the mirror, now showing him not his own reflection, but a sight that stopped him in his tracks.